Yes, I made mistakes, but I also paid the consequences and got back on my feet. I stopped drinking 25 years ago and have always been an engaged, supportive and loving parent. Both of my parents were absent when I was young, as their parents had been, and I was determined to break that chain. And I did.
My daughter has been hurtful in the past in a way that seemed deliberate, and I think she might do it again. Two of his short stories were recently published in a prestigious literary magazine. She emailed me the stories a few days ago.
Under a pseudonym, she falsely portrays me as an indifferent, indifferent and completely absent father. I’m not a character in the story, but my absence is a major element. It’s brilliantly done, but it leaves a false impression of me as a deadbeat, and that’s completely unfair.
I am thrilled and immensely proud that my daughter was published (and I told her so), but I am deeply hurt. I hate talking about myself, but did she portray me as a disengaged father intent on being hurtful? What other conclusion is there?
Asking my daughter not to take creative liberties when she writes about me is only part of my problem. My biggest problem is how to manage my anger in a way that keeps the door open to a healthier relationship later. I really don’t know how to talk to my daughter about this.
Feeling trapped: Short answer: no. You don’t tell him what to write.
You also don’t assume she’s writing about you. And you don’t assume how she feels about what she writes or what she wants you to feel.
If you hate everything being about you, then don’t make everything about you.
You can reasonably assume that she is writing about you and you may understandably feel hurt. It’s not just right, it’s human.
What you can’t do – and still claim to be “supportive” – is expect her to sort out your feelings about you.
You’re the one who takes care of it. Alone or with help, it’s up to you. But you keep the two emotional paths separate: she’s on his, and her art is part of it, 100 percent her business and her prerogative. (This includes his right to be wrong.) You are yours, and your redemption is part of that. That’s it.
Your praise for his work is the best argument you can make.
Speaking of your redemption, the math is awesome. If she is 30 now and 4 when you divorced her mother, then you have miscounted the “years” of drinking or sobriety.
A small criticism, perhaps, but it reminds me of the players who throw the “who, me?” ask the referees after obvious fouls. She also “paid the consequences” of your actions, at a formative age. The best way to keep the door open to his confidence is to rid yourself of any traces of defensiveness about your past. You did what you did. She feels what she feels. The only way forward starts there.
