Navigating the Trials and Tribulations of Family Dynamics: My Complex Relationship with My Dad
Edit: Today marks the 20th anniversary of my dad’s passing. While this blog delves into the complex dynamics and challenges we faced, he played a significant role in shaping who I am today. He dedicated the last decade of his life to helping others achieve sobriety and making amends.
In my previous blog I touched on how as a teenager, I acted out a lot and one time got arrested for shoplifting, which led to court-ordered counseling that both my mom and I attended. After a heated argument in one of those sessions, I walked home & picked up the phone and called my dad. “I want to come live with you!”. The next day, I was on my way to California for high school.
The summer before I started school, I headed to Bonita, California, a suburb of San Diego. My dad was stationed in Coronado but we lived off base in a very beautiful area. Westerly had been tough for me in terms of making friends—it felt like everyone in town was related, making it hard to form connections. Moving to California felt like stepping into a fairy tale. Years earlier, my mom was on the verge of accepting a job in California, coinciding with the release of The Karate Kid movie, which had me captivated by Billy Zabka and the allure of California's stunning beaches. When that relocation plan fell through, it was a letdown, making this new opportunity feel like the realization of a long-held childhood dream.
My dad introduced me to his Captain's daughter, Rachel, who was well-connected and popular, like a "Soc" from The Outsiders. She took me under her wing, introducing me to everyone, and inviting me to parties and events. By the time school started, I had a solid group of friends. School wasn’t my top priority—I was more focused on having fun. However, I did enjoy my photography class and often spent lunch breaks in the darkroom.
One thing I appreciated about Bonita High was the inclusive atmosphere. While we had typical cliques like jocks, cheerleaders, Socs, skinheads, geeks, greasers, and others, there was a sense of unity when it came to social events like parties or trips to Mexico. Everyone was welcome, unlike in Westerly, where cliques were rigid and if one person didn’t like you, it affected everyone's perception. I'll delve deeper into these dynamics in another chapter, as I had some notable missteps during my time in high school in Westerly that deserve their own story.
During this period, my dad had a few girlfriends. One of them claimed to be a "psychologist," but it later came to light that she was actually a receptionist at a psychologist's office and had only taken a couple of classes at the community college. She insisted on addressing certain issues, leading to a conversation where my dad had to explain to me that he was bisexual and share other personal details that I could tell made him uncomfortable, especially discussing them with a 14-15 year old. I'm sure her insistence contributed to the end of their relationship, making her nothing more than a distant memory. However, it did pave the way for open conversations with my dad later in life regarding his sexuality.
He then met his third wife, Susanne, who was quite young, and our relationship was tumultuous. They often partied together, and in recent years, reconnecting with her has been healing. Regarding my dad's murder and our time together in California, she expressed, "…I thought you wouldn't want condolences from me back then, considering I was one of the adults who didn't know how to be an adult in your life. I'm so glad you survived us! I've learned a lot in sobriety…I was just thinking this morning how I gave up drinking, then gave up sluttung around, then gave up tobacco (the hardest) ha. Why cant i seem to lose 10 Ibs and keep it off. You knew me at my absolute worst. Good thing you cant remember.” During their trips out of town, even as young as 14-15 years old, they would leave me alone at home, sometimes traveling as far as Guam. They'd leave my dad's car in the garage with keys inside and block it with her car in the driveway. Little did they know, I already had a set of keys made to her car and would move it around, keeping my dad's car at a friend's house. We had his car the entire time they were away.
I had a habit of “borrowing” my dad's and his girlfriend's cars quite often (she might not know this, but I guess she will now). Of course by “borrowing” I mean stealing. Whenever they went out for the night, we would take his car and go for joyrides all over town. We even sneaked out to take his car a few times after he had gone to bed—that's how bold we were. I vividly remember one incident when I got home and realized that the tape I was playing was stuck in the tape player. I panicked and drove to my friend's house to get his help in removing it. After fixing the issue, I rushed back home and parked in the garage, closing the door just as my dad and Susanne pulled in not even a minute later. The car was still warm and making noises, so when my dad was about to to the laundry, I hurriedly volunteered to do the laundry, which was quite out of character for a 14-year-old. Luckily, my secret life of borrowing cars remained hidden, at least for a little while longer.
However, I eventually got caught in a pretty bad way. One day, I parked the car halfway on the lawn and didn't think much of it. The next morning, my dad came into my room and asked if I had anything to confess. “Nope, why?” I responded, but he promptly escorted my ass outside and pointed at the car. Needless to say, I was grounded for a while, although that didn't really stop me from sneaking out. Looking back, I realize that while I was quite a handful, my dad wasn't the most attentive or present father. His disciplinary approach resembled more of a military drill sergeant than anything that was genuinely helpful. As I grew older, I learned that he struggled with alcoholism and drug use, which hindered his ability to be the father I desperately needed at that time. He was also struggling with his sexuality and the secrets he had to keep due to his military career.
California, although stunning and one of my favorite places, presented challenges as a teenager with minimal supervision, surrounded by friends in similar situations. We often got into mischief, venturing to Mexico for clubbing escapades, and I even "ran away" to Mexico a few times with my surfer friends.
One particular trip to Mexico became a turning point, leading to my return to Westerly, RI, to live with my mom in the middle of my Junior year. I remember coming back from Mexico and calling my dad from a payphone at the mall. Unbeknownst to me, our landlord, who owned a flower shop in the mall, had already informed him I was back. I was on the phone with Susanne, who was stalling me, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. My dad. I was terrified. He wasn't one for gentle parenting and often treated me like a military subordinate. He was furious and had had enough. I called my mom, and just as swiftly as I had moved to California, I was en route back to Rhode Island. As a parting fuck you gesture, I used his phone card to make over $800 in calls to my friends in CA, knowing that each call and every minute cost money in those pre-social media, pre-internet, pre-cell phone, pre-free long-distance days.
During this period, my relationship with my dad took a downturn, leading to a phase where I didn't see him for more than seven years after he married Susanne.
Reflecting on those experiences, I wish I could say they taught me valuable lessons about personal responsibility. Like how joyriding and misusing my dad's phone card made me realize the importance of owning up to my actions, understanding consequences, and learning from mistakes. Sadly, that wasn't the case for many years. I continued to act recklessly, and as for the phone card incident, to this day, I still feel like it was the “fuck you” he deserved at the time.
The relationships with my dad and his partners underscored the importance of clear communication and establishing boundaries. Their lack thereof emphasized the need for open conversations and the essential nature of respecting each other, and establishing clear boundaries. This awareness is something I carry into my role in my boyfriend's children's lives, aiming for a style of parenting that nurtures their growth and development unlike what I experienced growing up.
Returning to Westerly in the middle of a semester and adapting to different environments taught me resilience and adaptability. It meant confronting challenges head-on and learning to navigate change. These lessons have been invaluable over the years.
In essence, it's about reflecting on past experiences, identifying areas for growth, and striving to evolve into a better version of oneself, even if that journey takes years of introspection.
