After my dad’s shitty apology over text and my mom calling to apologize for him, I came to terms with the fact that he would never bring himself to ever call me himself and give me a proper apology for calling me a bitch… or really, for anything awful he’s ever done to me. I have to keep repeating to myself that my parents will never change, and I will never be able to change them. I want them to meet their grandchild, so I will suck up whatever dumb things they do temporarily to allow this to happen. I was doing this for them, as it’s clear that I get zero benefit from any of this.

The visit started annoyingly, as it always does. When my mom knows Ed or I am home, she will never, ever open the door herself. She always, always has to ring the bell multiple times to demand that someone serve her. So since I got to the house before she and my dad got back, of course, she rang the bell. As soon as she walked in, I could tell she was not happy with me. She gave me a half hello with a pissed expression on her face (which was a hint at what would come as soon as Chris wasn’t around on Monday), and then went over to talk to Kaia and admire her.

My dad did the same: he barely said hi to me and then just kind of stared at Kaia and blew her kisses. My. Dad. Blew. Kisses. WHAT???? He did all kinds of pucker lip and other gestures towards her and blew kisses and smiled endlessly at her. I have this strong feeling he never did that with Ed or me. They unloaded a bunch of clothes and toys they got her, along with some toys my dad picked up second hand off of Next Door (which my mom assured me she sanitized multiple times).

Then, my mom proceeded to fuss over everything about her and what I was doing wrong: why wasn’t I constantly wiping her hands and face when she was eating? Why isn’t she wearing more layers? What kind of half-assed bath did I give her? Why wasn’t I blow drying her hair? I wasn’t moisturizing her quickly enough: she was going to get sick being naked for so long while getting lotioned up! Oh, and then given the time difference (hello, it’s the baby’s first time changing time zones…) and how goddamn cold the house was, Kaia kept waking up crying throughout the night, so we had to give her Tylenol and turn on the heat…. which my dad kept shutting off even though I explicitly said the house was too cold for the baby (seriously??).

The truth is that it didn’t even bother me that she criticized how we took care of Kaia; I expected all of that and brushed it off; none of that really fazed me. I was more just cognizant of the fact that I knew she’d eventually swoop down on me and unleash her can of irrationality and anger as soon as Chris went to work on Monday, as that would be the only time she’d get alone with me. She’d never say any of this stuff in front of Chris; she barely said anything to him the entire weekend they were together. It’s mostly just meals together with nothing spoken and being under the same roof with little to no interaction.

I feel like I’ve spent most of my life trying to forgive my parents for all the wrong they have done to Ed and me. It began even before I reached adulthood. My mom would always say regarding my dad that, “his parents didn’t know how to teach him. You should forgive him. He supports you and puts a roof over your head” every time he said or did anything to hurt me or Ed. So, in other words, it was my responsibility as his CHILD to forgive HIM for things he did wrong, and that it was totally fine for him to continue wronging us simply because his parents “didn’t teach him” and he put a roof over our heads? That’s a pretty damn big request to make of your child, of any child, from an emotional and mental standpoint.

So I read this post from Yolanda Renteria, who is a somatic coach and speaker, on Instagram today, and it really resonated with me:

“Many people can’t forgive, understand, or make amends with their parents / caregivers because they carry the pain of the experiences they went through in their body. Even when logically, they may try to move on, the body pushes them back into safety. Repair can feel like a threat.

“This push and pull dynamic is a sign that things may have been processed logically, but not somatically. Logically we may know things are safe now, but the body has stored memories from the past that surface any time we are in close proximity to people with whom those memories were created. Repair quite literally can feel like a threat to a body that went through so much pain with a person who was also a source of love.”

The truth is that an apology in any form from either of my parents will never be enough to erase what they have done to Ed or me. Nothing will ever be enough to take away that pain or suffering. As much as I want to, a large part of me will never forgive them for all the things they have inflicted on us. And that’s just my truth.

Surprising to all of us, my dad sent a text message saying he was sorry. Granted, I said he had to call, so of course he isn’t going to call and proceeded to do the half-assed action of texting. The text reads like this:

“I apologized. How about sending some pics or videos of Kaia before she end of with a broken heart! She complained of chest pain.”

First of all, that doesn’t really sound like a real apology. There is no acknowledgment of wrong doing, no sentiment of reflection that they did wrong or no expression of “I will never do this again.” That would be an adequate apology for a 5-year-old, not a 74-year-old. Also, was it really necessary to wrap it up with even more manipulative crap around my mom’s health and what I would be doing to wreck it?

There is really no end to the level of manipulation and “it’s all about me” with my parents.

It was unclear what my dad shared with my mom, but something got shared. And my mom sent me a text message asking me to call her last night, which I ignored. Then, she called and left a voice message. It went something like this:

“Yvonne, it’s me. Why are you doing this? You know, my health is not too good, and you will make it worse. The Bible says that children who are disobedient to their parents will face consequences…”

The voice message went on for another 25 seconds, but I didn’t listen to the rest of it because as soon as I heard that last line, I hung up and deleted the message. She’s pulling more of her manipulative, “it’s all about me” tactics and trying to guilt me to call her by blaming everything on me, once again, yet again. It’s always about her faux health and how everyone else’s actions make her health worse. It’s never about how she can help herself. It’s always about how other people wrong her and my dad, and they are these innocent, perfect beings who are just harmed by literally everyone else. Sure, the Bible does say that children should be obedient to their parents, but why should that even be relevant in this conversation when there’s nowhere in the Bible that says that parents can mistreat and constantly abuse their children? What consequences do parents who abuse their children face? Parents should face consequences for the awful actions they commit against their children. What does she have to say about that? Nothing, of course.

She can threaten me all she wants, but until I get an apology, she will never get what she wants.

My mom had told my dad multiple times to share photos of the crib and high chair they got from Craigslist with me, but she said he was “too busy” and never did it. Well, the reason it was too arduous for him is that he forgot he can actually use his smart phone… like an actual smart phone, and take a photo with it and text to me. I reminded my mom that he didn’t have to use his digital camera, upload, and email, but I’m not sure she really understood what I was saying. They have had smart phones for over a year now and still have no idea how to use them. My dad still randomly and accidentally texts me my mom’s number at least once a month.

So he sent me photos of these baby items “from friends” (a lie) and also sent me the measurements of the crib. The crib is NOT a crib: it’s a bassinet that is just as small as the bassinet Kaia outgrew in June. It’s unusable for her given her size. My dad insisted it could be used up to 12 months of age; yeah, maybe for a midget baby? They have no clue how things work with babies because it’s been too long for them. I told him that this bassinet is NOT a crib, it’s too small, and that I already told them my friend was loaning her pack and play to me. I also reminded him that he doesn’t have to email me photos from his digital camera; all he has to do is snap a photo from his phone and text to me. What was the response I got back? This is what he wrote, word for word:

“There is no room for the crib. You should just stay at the hotel as far as I’m concerned. Don’t fucken tell me what to do, bitch!”

You would think that after all these years of being yelled at, criticized, put down, and name-called by my dad for the most innocuous comments or actions done that I would be unfazed by this. But when I saw the email in my inbox, my face was burning hot, and I could feel my blood pressure rise rapidly. In that moment, I was reminded of the time when maybe 12 years ago, our dad screamed at Ed for something stupid as per usual at home, and even though Ed had gotten yelled at far more times than I ever did, Ed was in tears. My 30-something year old brother was in tears because of his dad. Just think about that for a second, and think about how absolutely heartbreaking that sounds. My dad’s screaming could drill my 30-something brother to tears, in just seconds. That’s the power he had over him.

In that moment, I decided that enough was enough. I had endured more uncalled for, wrongful treatment from them ever since I was a child. I had been name called, verbally and emotionally abused, wrongly accused of things I never did, gaslit, and made to feel like the worst daughter that ever existed. I was constantly called spoiled just for having the bare minimum. This was not the first time my dad had called me a bitch; in fact, I can’t even count on one hand the number of times it had happened. And it’s not the only bad word my dad had ever called me. I stuck by them through Ed’s suffering and death. I allowed them to be a part of my life, even when I really wanted to cut them out completely. I let them be a part of my wedding and even said really kind things about them in front of everyone they knew. Yet nothing I have ever done for them has been enough. All I have ever wanted is for them to be happy and proud for me. But no, that’s an impossibility. They are incapable of happiness or peace. They will never be happy. They will continue to live in their chosen clutter and dirt and squalor in that rotting and dilapidated house until the day they die — not because they have no money or options, but because they just love to be miserable and depressed.

So, this is the last straw for me. I’ve had to endure far more abuse than any one person should for the last 36 years. Broken promises, lies, accusations, name calling, constant insults. Enough is enough. And so I wrote this to him:

“All I did was give a suggestion. If you want to have that type of attitude at a simple suggestion, then you are the problem. What kind of father calls his daughter a bitch? I will not tolerate it. You have NO power over me. You will never meet Kaia with that attitude unless you apologize.”

My dad has never apologized to anyone in his entire life. He doesn’t even know what the word “apology” even means. He’s never been held accountable for anything he’s ever said or done, and like my mom, he thinks everyone else is the problem, not him.

So I realize this could mean that I’m actually, finally cutting them off, but maybe this is for the best. I am so sick of constantly putting their needs ahead of my own, compromising my mental health. I have a baby to care for and raise now. I need to set a good example for her, and I don’t want her exposed to this constant bullshit. This intergenerational family dysfunction needs to end HERE, right NOW.

The truth is that it’s not even just my parents’ behavior that disgusts me; they disgust me as human beings. It’s a sad thing to admit, but it is true. I’m disgusted and embarrassed by them. And I’m tired of always trying to honor them when I get treated like garbage in return.

They have no power over me. They will have no power over me.

A couple months ago, my uncle had a complete hip replacement. He knew it was coming up, and so he prepped his home to get ready for his limited mobility. He arranged for my cousin to bring him to the hospital, a neighbor friend to pick him up and stay with him the first night, and for most foods to be extremely simple and easy to prepare so that he’d stay well nourished. Our whole family has known that he would have this major surgery, but my parents only knew because my cousin and aunt told them. They never acknowledged to my uncle that they knew about it, and they never talked to him about it, nor did they ever offer to come visit him, bring him food, even drop off something nice for him. It sounded pretty petty and sad, especially since about eight years ago, not only did my uncle visit my dad in the hospital after his bypass surgery, but he also came to the house to visit him and dropped off a few things that would make his life a little easier during his recovery. Given the lifelong feuds between them, my uncle never had to do any of those things, but he was at least trying to be the bigger person.

I thought about all this stupid sibling feuding today because my aunt sent me a video of visiting my uncle at his home. My cousin and his wife went to visit, too. And I thought to myself, why can’t my parents just for once, try to be decent people and not live a “quid pro quo” life, and just do the right thing? In this case, if they actually visited him, it WOULD be quid pro quo because he actually visited my dad twice after his surgery! In my parents’ eyes, they are eternally perfect and can do no wrong; everyone else has wronged them. They are always the victims. It really doesn’t make any sense.

Another reason I was thinking about this was because since Kaia’s birth, I’ve thought a lot more about my reason for being and in general, my own mortality. And holding grudges and just having a negative outlook on life, especially in the latter half of your life, are just so draining. I wonder if they ever wonder why they are so miserable and seem to have no where to go, figuratively. I wonder if they ever think about how they could improve their lives with the means that they have, or if they just accept it as though “that’s just life.”

I knew coming back to San Francisco with the baby would be annoying. I just didn’t really think about exactly how it would be annoying in the weeks leading up to the trip. I had already asked one of my best friends if I could borrow her kid’s Pack and Play, which was sitting in storage unused at her mom’s place in anticipation of baby number 2. This would give Kaia a safe place to sleep at my parents’ place. I already told my mom that I’d arranged this, but she didn’t listen. She claims that her “friend” is giving her a “like brand new” crib, plus a high chair. She wouldn’t share the name of this friend, nor how or why this person had a high chair or crib to begin with. That’s how I knew that these were both sourced from a random Craigslist person. My dad is addicted to Craigslist and getting free crap off of it. It’s like his one hobby that he actually follows through on because he rarely follows through on doing anything he says he will.

She called late last week, telling me to disregard my friend’s Pack and Play. “Tell her you don’t need it anymore,” she insisted. “This one is better. It’s like brand new. You can’t trust Rebecca. How do you know she kept hers clean?”

Seriously? She’s going to trust a random person off Craigslist over my best friend? I tried hard to remember what I learned from the Maturity Awareness Approach in the Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents book: 1) express, then let go, 2) manage, don’t engage. I calmly told her that I had already arranged to borrow my friend’s Pack and Play, and that we were still going to use it. She’s my best friend, and I trust her to keep things clean, especially things she’s allowing my baby to borrow. My mom denied this was true and tried to fight me on it, but I kept my cool and simply restated what I already said.. We are going to use the Pack and Play… in the exact same words. I was not going to engage with her bullshit.

“You don’t want the highchair?” my mom said, trying to change the subject.

“We are talking about the crib,” I said to her in a monotone. “We do not need your crib.”

“Okay, you’re in a bad mood right now, so we don’t have to talk,” she said, clearly mad. And then she hung up.

The truth was that I didn’t even get worked up. Was it annoying? Of course. But because I already expected her to try to exert control, I didn’t feel any need to change her mind or engage her and felt pretty calm the whole time. This is my baby, and my baby is going to have what I want for her, not what her deranged grandmother wants for her.