34: And then what?

The second part of my estrangement origin story

The last argument with my dad, the last argument I ever wanted to be in with my dad, was when I decided I couldn’t continue having a relationship with him. After a lifetime of figuring out how to be around him, I didn’t want to do it anymore. Because it was ultimately always harder than easier.

27: The Straw

But what does it mean when you decide you don’t want a relationship with a parent anymore?

When I was 16 years old, an argument with him had me so frustrated that I stormed out of the house one evening. I had never done anything like that before. The pressure of terrible communication had never made me feel like I couldn’t hide away somewhere in the house. But this time I had to leave, perhaps even as a symbolic gesture to try and get him to understand how upset he could make people feel. I just started walking aimlessly in the neighbourhood. This was easy due to the July warmth and the light of long summer days in an upper latitude city. He soon caught up with me in his truck. He parked, and I got in, perhaps to avoid a scene of yelling on the street (we weren’t that kind of nabe). Was there arguing then talking? I don’t remember. But I do recall, like many times before, we were both eventually in tears and there was talk of things getting better. Except it didn’t. There were just more calms before more storms. More doing what you could to not set off the storm, which was a largely futile eggshell walk because him spilling a glass of milk could get the thunder rolling.

Except it didn’t because there was never follow up on how it was supposed to get better. No discussions. No strategies. And very much no family counselling. So about a decade later, I made a decision to leave the house forever.

That can’t happen immediately, though. From the time of the proverbial straw until I left my home, The House, that place where I had been living, it was around one month.