Unlovable?

Truth be told, that has always been my biggest fear. I know my mom loves me dearly.  And was willing to sacrifice for me. She basically became the lightening rod for much of my dad's anger and criticism to direct it away from me.  But I think she is the only person in my life who has ever loved me enough to sacrifice for me. I have several friends that absolutely would, if I were in a place to need them to.  And my beloved Grandmother would have, if I had needed her and she could have.

My parents are members of the "me" generation.  And my dad this week has made it clear that he will enjoy hanging out with me, on his terms, but he won't actually sacrifice anything, like, say, listening to an episode of Radio Lab once in the last 3 years to see if he likes it, or watching Passing Strange or wanting to talk on the phone when I'm having a hard time, or keep his word, or be empathetic when he changes plans and I'm upset, or not talk in the theatre when he wants to talk in the theatre or not criticize me if I do something he doesn't approve of in that moment, or not get upset if I don't send him a card, or not get upset if I do send him a present.  It is true that in 2004 my dad did go see Caroline or Change on my recommendation, and he loved it.  And he mentioned that multiple times yesterday.  Evidently, once a decade is all I can ask of my dad to consider a recommendation that I give him about something I love in the world.  (It goes without saying that he is always recommending things to me, and whether it is a 2-week intensive therapy or War and Peace, I take his recommendations seriously.)

My dad used to send me the most beautiful letters.  They were usually 5-8 pages long and were a detailed account of where he was.  "I am in the Madrid train station, and a peacock just walked by.  Connie, I wish you were here.  There is a gentle mist coming down and it seems more like a rainforest than any train station.  I'm drinking a cup of jasmine tea and watching this little kid try and catch the peacock, but the peacock is holding its own." I have one he sent me like 5 years ago that I've never opened because I am saving it so I will always have one more letter from dad.  I told him how much I love his letters, but he hasn't sent one for years.

I'm cooking breakfast for the entire family and my dad's contribution is to read me some Buddhist crap.  What surprised me was that he completely misunderstood the passage.  "Don't fail to add a drop of good deeds to the ocean of virtue" and my dad interprets that to mean as "Don't do a good deed or be virtuous just for the sake of being virtuous."  It is like he needs constant confirmation that being selfish, but genuinely and authentically selfish, is somehow superior to trying to have awareness of other people's feelings.

But, deep down, what it means is that my dad doesn't really love me.  If he loved me, he would be interested in what I think and love.  And if my dad doesn't love me....  And no man I've ever actually loved me....  Maybe I'm not unlovable at my core, but just so profoundly damaged that the difference is moot. John was interested in my life and what I thought (as is Bobby), but he couldn't make the leap.  John thought he was unlovable as well--we talked about it, but I told him I loved him, so clearly he had more issues with accepting than deserving love.

I am however, one of the most loving, generous, loyal people I know.  (And other people have said that about me a lot too.)  And so, maybe it is time to give up on attempting romantic love, or even thinking I could ever bridge the gender divide, and have a couple of girls and love and support and nurture them.  Give them the childhood I had wanted, while trying to have enough humility to remember that they are not me, and at some point will want different things, and then I'll try to give them that (as long as it is their long-term interests).  Maybe that will be enough of an outlet for my love.  Well that, and maybe when my cats die, I'll get a dog.