So with some confidence I can say that, to put it succinctly, the honeymoon period is over. Read: The two weeks it takes for a family/social unit to return to normal after an extended interruption. I find myself in the very real position of having to put that which I've learned about myself and other people to the very real test. To pass: Find the creative answer to coping with someone who will not change and has not changed since childhood.

My father is a very defiant man. Something that I've probably inherited from him. However, he seems to only reserve this aspect of his personality for his family. In small examples, my mother has languished her attempts to keeping an organized kitchen area. My father refuses to stick to any organization system she puts forth, and then complains when she has trouble cooking because her spices are hidden behind cups and dishes. She asks my father to put the dish detergent in the proper spot inside the dishwasher, and he will insistently prefer to spread it all over the dishes and door. Laziness? Maybe. It would certainly explain why he continues to feed the cats wet cat food on the ground on the back porch after I spent an hour cleaning it. The rotted meat smell attracts every fly in Comanche County and makes the back porch more or less uninhabitable.

So maybe just laziness, but my negative side says that he does it willing and without regard to other people. Take for instance my attempt to ration dog food. We've run out of dog food on occasion, but what I do notice is that he completely loads rather large dog bowls up to the very top--two of them. Our pit bull, while lovable, is extremely fat. And my german shep Ozzy is big boned at the least (140 pounds or so). I take said food and tell him, "I'll start feeding the dogs. Don't worry about it. And besides--it's okay if the bowl is empty sometimes. They were never meant to always have food on demand." I've also heard this from vets too. Yet, once again, I return home to find that the bowls are completely full. This means my dad went into my room, found the dog food, filled their bowls entirely, and returned it on a day where I'd already fed the dogs. Automatic thought: He's INTENTIONALLY going out of his way to be abrasive.

However, this is where I'm going to have to alter my usual reaction. For one, I'm not a mind reader. I can neither confirm nor deny that his thought process is defiant of other people--conscious or otherwise. I can possibly go on about him simply not "caring" because if he did he would attempt an effort at not screwing up what other people try to do. But again, who's to say he doesn't care? He's working two jobs to support the fact that I was a tremendous fuckup this last summer, and the possibility that my younger brother is going to fuck up again. (Yet another person I can't change--a type II bipolar and pathological liar/manipulator). Maybe he was tired when he fed the cats on the back porch. It simply slipped his mind. Maybe I can say that ALL of this is a result of him being dead tired.

Or maybe it isn't my place to say anything at all.

No matter what the cause, my inability to change his actions have remained precisely the same. All attempts in the past have been met with pain and frustration. So. What to do? First realize that no matter the intent, my father will not adhere to the suggestions, ideas, and boundaries of others. In a way he's sick. He makes fun of my mother's attempts to exercise and better herself, and wonders why I'm still taking HRT even though I'm not on illicit drugs anymore. He enjoys throwing food between dogs to make them fight. He's an insecure man who has to belittle his family to feel power because in his corporate life (so to speak) he spends all his time sucking up to the wills of others.

Yet--I -know- he's not to be hated. For one it wastes energy. For two I do love him and I know, despite his issues, he does love us. In fact, I remember something in particular he said about my transition that struck me. My mother said something along the lines of how so just "simply didn't understand." Dad, who for weeks was utterly silent and withdrawn about it, almost snaps in a way and says quickly and firmly, "Well we don't HAVE to understand. It is what it is. That's all there is to it. If he's* happy with it, then fine." It's the only words he's said on it since I started my rehabilitation over a month ago, and honestly that's a big step for him. Having just seen an online video of a family disowning their son for "choosing" to be gay and refusing to go to a pray-the-gay-away camp, I realize that despite his idiosyncrasies I am extremely blessed that my family has accepted me unto this point.

(*For the sake of giving my time family to cope, I've asked them to still refer to me as 'he' until I formalize my transition in all aspects--passing, dressing, voice, etc. Small town Texas is not the place to do that. Right now I'm focusing on financial recovery and am content with HRT and a fem appearance in the meantime.)

So--what to do? As I said. Get creative. Be proactive. I'll move the cat food up to the garage where he can feed on the ground all he likes. I'll also hide the dog food a bit better elsewhere in the house. And while I won't follow my father around up-righting everything he turns upside down, I can at the very least put things back where they belong after I find them in the wrong place when I need them. Rather than breaking my father down on the way he treats people, I'm attempting to build my mother's confidence up by encouraging her to, quite simply, see my father for the slightly damaged person that he is, and not let the things he says and does go anywhere serious mentally.

Old reaction (Automatic thought): Get angry and scream for change that'll has not and will never happen.
New reaction (Second thought): Work around (not -enable-) the issues of a person who, while frustrating, is still very much family.

You know that saying. Lead by doing. Maybe if he sees us keeping so much effort to do right he'll come around. Maybe not--only a guess. Not an expectation. No more energy wasted getting frustrated though. Move on with it. He may fall into the statistic of the "honey moon" period but I'm trying to make my change stick. So here goes. Wish me luck.

Peace and love,

Red

Ps:

Oh yeah--sober date is July 22nd. So I guess this means thirty-seven days sober? Honestly the longest I've gone since.... May of 2011. That's three years my friend. Three years stoned, drunk, jacked up, hopped up, tripped out, and overall twisted on anything I was able to get my hands on. I guess that means a little something.