The first cracks in the picture

I stated previously that I believe that what happened at 14 was the last major part of my formation, so that what happened at 17 and a few things after were just reinforcement.

Assuming that is correct, it makes sense that some of the initial steps in healing happened not long after that. I had some changes in perception.

The first one I really remember happened during my second year of college. I was on my way back to the dorm one night, and I saw a possum (I've decided the "o" in front is pointless) heading into the bushes. I started peeking around trying to get a better look at it, because I love animals and I think seeing them is cool. I didn't see it though, so I gave up and went up the steps to the door.

While I was unlocking the door, I heard an exclamation behind me. Apparently the possum had started following me up the steps, someone else saw it and exclaimed, and that sent the possum running off.

(They are very shy creatures, generally harmless, and good for pest control. Please do not hurt possums if you see them. However, I had been checking it out, and perhaps it was returning the favor.)

Anyway, this girl was really excited and said she had never seen anything like that. 

I punctured her balloon and said, really condescendingly, "Oh, they're pretty common around here."

So obnoxious, and it was rotten of me; if she had come along any earlier she would have seen me just as excited about seeing a possum. 

I went and talked it over with my roommate, Claudia. She asked me why I did it.

I think I did it because I was caught off guard and embarrassed that I hadn't noticed the possum behind me when I had just been looking for it, and because being vulnerable felt terribly dangerous. I did that automatically, but then I was left feeling worse. Not only had I made a stranger feel bad, but I had done it by being dishonest. 

That was the year that I realized that I needed to go on a mission, and it was while I was a missionary that I really started to get a feeling for how annoying it is when you won't admit that you are mistaken, or that someone else knew more, or really any time when you try and establish your superiority.

Given my paranoia about being annoying, you would think I would try to avoid that.

I also learned that it can be worse than annoying. I had at least one circumstance where someone insecure was feeling terrible because I seemed to be so unflappable when she was feeling so anxious. It actually caused her pain.

I do not want to hurt people.

As I started learning to show vulnerability and admit weaknesses, the shocking thing was that no one ever moved in for the kill. My father's refusal to ever admit any wrong had been received by me very seriously; there was a terrible danger in doing so.

I may have already sensed in some ways that it kept him from growth. I surely saw that it damaged relationships, but for a long time I still accepted that worldview, with all of the fear that it carried.

Turns out it was fine all along. 

As stressful as it was, I can't rule out that my time of not speaking to my father was helpful, in that no matter how defective I felt, I still knew he was good in this. 

By the same token, I also know that not dealing with him now is better for me, even if those were steps that I took reluctantly. If he hadn't made some choices for me, and if protecting Mom hadn't been a more important priority, I don't know that I would have gotten to the place where I decided I didn't even want to try. 

Now I can see that as good for me.

That is not without push back. Several people have warned me -- mostly with good intentions -- about the regrets I will have for this lost time, especially when he dies. That does not take into account the regrets that I might feel over the knots in my stomach, and the stress and exhaustion and the hits to the self-esteem that come with dealing with him, and of which I have accumulated quite a store. I'm sure there will be weird feelings when he dies, but there are plenty of bad feelings now, and damage, and wistfulness about what having a different father would be like.

Eventually the decision came down to my belief that maintaining a relationship would harm me while not doing him any good. If it could do him good, I would take the harm. If it didn't harm, we would still be in touch. 

And if he needed my help, I would step in anyway, even though it probably would do harm, but not as much harm as it would have done back then, because I have grown.

My growth started with seeing the ways he was wrong.