I arranged with my father for him to see me in Oxford in a couple of weeks’ time. I got him to write it on his calendar, to make sure he remembers which date it is. All fine and sorted.
Am told by my mother when she visits this week (“what are you doing on the weekends?”) that at some point around that date my brother will be staying with my father for a friend’s wedding. She thinks he’s double-booked himself, and will have to leave a key for my brother. But my brother is in the U.S., so it’s not easy to check, and it’s not my responsibility to check, anyway, and my father *might* not have double-booked himself – he has a calendar. I made sure he wrote it down. And it’s nothing to do with my mother what he’s doing.
I’m angry because my mother was right. I got an email yesterday, ‘I want to see your brother, but I can’t be in two places at once…of course it’s totally my fault that this has happened’. So I re-arrange with my father for October. The stupid thing is that I don’t think I would be so angry, if my mother hadn’t said anything. It had nothing to do with her at all. I hate my parents picking at each other, pointing out flaws. It was like she was saying, ‘Your father’s so disorganized’. There are other flaws, too, and pointing them out goes in both directions.
I used to be angry with my father. He went to church, which is about being loving and caring towards others, and came back each Sunday, and rowed my mother, and sat on his own, and never talked to her. That became my job. Then I went to church, too, and found that it doesn’t magically transform you into a loving, kind, and caring person. I found that, with all good intentions, outside the church doors (and yes, even inside them) being Christian is hard. So my anger towards my father waned. A bit.
And then my mother had an affair, and left my father for a former high-school boyfriend, and my anger with the state of my parents’ relationship was channeled towards her instead. Why did she ever get involved with my father, when breaking-up with her boyfriend was a ‘mistake’? And now I hate the way that my parents communicate – either through me – or to me – about each other. I hate the whole sorry mess. It makes me angry. I feel so horrible inside. I hate myself for being this angry.