I’ve heard about an exercise designed to help you recover from a nasty childhood. The idea is to pour out your heart in a letter to the people responsible for your nasty childhood. The obvious suspects being your parents. In my case, my alcoholic father.
I’ve never written such a letter, though I have grievances aplenty. I have tons of ammunition to easily hit my dad where it hurts. With no effort at all, I could fill three or four pages detailing the emotional and physical harm that he inflicted on me. Maybe that would give him a taste of the pain he put me through. Naturally, I’d balance the letter by mentioning a few things he did right, like keeping a full-time job. Then I’d hit him with the proverbial “but.” That’s when I’d unleash all my misery.
The more I thought about writing this letter, the more I liked the idea.
Pro: I might feel better. I’d definitely feel superior.
Pro: I’m the good guy in the story. Dad’s the bad guy.
Pro: He’s dead, so no bravery required on my part to deliver the letter.
Then it hit me. Suppose my kids decide to write one of those letters to me. They may be well armed, too.
Hmmmm . . .
HMMMM . . .
Well now . . . that changes everything.
A poison pen letter directed at me? I reflected a bit on how I might react to a Dear Dad letter from a disgruntled child, and I didn’t like my reaction at all. Unflattering words hurt. And being blamed for ruining someone’s life is no picnic either.
Plus, what good would a letter like that do? If I’m the source of their misery, then all I’m really qualified to do is make them more miserable. I’m the ruiner. Not the fixer. At least, that will be the takeaway from the letter. And what could I possibly say to them to undo the damage? Saying “sorry” helps, but that’s just the down payment. They’ll insist that the rest of the apology be paid in cash.
No. A you-ruined-me letter to my dad or one to me is a bad idea. It’s best that I accept my dad for what he was and that my kids accept me as I am. Love the parts that are loveable, try to ignore the rest, and by all means, do us all a favor and find people who are qualified to guide you to happiness.
In truth, if I decide to write an unvarnished letter, I better write it about me for my eyes only. Of course, that’s a harder letter to write, because I’d have to take full responsibility for my situation in life. Next, I’d have to do the work of changing. No thanks!
So, Dad, you’re off the hook. I won’t be purging to you.
And should my kids decide to write me, I hope their letter goes something like this:
Dear Dad,
I’m having a great time in Hawaii.
I wish you were here!
Love, etc.
Aaahh. Now that’s a letter that would warm my heart. A few select words to let me know life is good. They’re obviously happy, and that makes me happy. I don’t need to know more. And please, please, please leave out the part about being in Hawaii at the Aloha Therapy Center for Dysfunctional Families.
Into the Comfort Zone 