Sunday Blues

It's funny how a person can change the atmosphere in a home. Even when I was in the smack middle of difficult chemo therapy, my home never felt sad or gloomy. There was always exchange of ideas and laughter. Even fussing didn't seem to effect the mood gauge.

My parents came to visit a couple of days before my surgery. My elderly dad drove all the way from Long Island, New York to North Carolina, stopping in Virginia for overnight rest. The day after he got to Carolina he started feeling sick, understandably due to a long drive. He didn't let us know of his state but my brother and mother convinced him to go see a doctor. He begrudgingly followed. He would not smile or talk. Nobody can tell if he's mad or just didn't feel like talking. The morning after my surgery I got up early and helped my mother make breakfast for father. He sat at the table waited to be served and left the table as soon as he finished his meal. This is just how most Korean fathers role. This is just how I grew up. This is how my original family operates...everyone caters to my father. It's seems that it is almost required to call him, Father with the capital F. My younger brother doing his filial duties, caters our father for every single movement. I am the rebellious one getting resentful for what I see as manipulation. I started to wonder why he came all the way down at the first place. I don't know if he's offended at me for not doing my duties or just tired. You might say, why don't you ask. My answer is because he would not say anything. No answer. Two days after my surgery he wanted to go back home He says to my mother, she can stay if she wants to. I suggested that they both go home. I'm feeling anxious and tired about the whole situation. I am getting angry at what appears to me as my father's selfishness. I can be wrong, totally wrong.

I can probably start making a list about why and how upset I should be about the situation but I stop because there seems to be no resolution. It feels more daunting than battling cancer. I feel like I have more control over cancer than my father's mood swings. I tell my brother he should not let our father control everyone in the family like this. My brother shrugs and smiles. Aigoo... I just let him be. I am the sick one here. Seriously. Don't get me wrong, my Dad adored me, he was never abusive or absent. But to me, he was always unpredictable and it made me feel extremely unstable.

It's Sunday afternoon and I suddenly noticed the thick gloomy atmosphere in my home. My Dad is upstairs in the spare bedroom. He's been in there all day, only coming out for meals. He doesn't talk to anyone. I can't tell if he's mad or sad or sick. My heart feels heavy and sad, I feel burdened because I am all too familiar with this kind of atmosphere. Gray, heavy, and somewhat hopeless. This is what I had to live with growing up. I hated it and promised myself that I will make sure my home is filled with bright sunshine yellow. I feel aggravated because my dad comes and instantly taints my bright sunshine yellow home to gray dreary home. I feel violated. My grown-up self cannot shake away that child in me who feels powerless in front of a giant who controls everything including my emotion and heart.  As a professional counselor, I can understand and kind of figure out why my Dad behaves this way and uses his mood to control everyone around him, but as his own daughter who feel victimized by his uncontrolled mood swings I feel very angry and unable to understand. Maybe I am refusing to understand.

Someone once said relationships are messy. Some relationships are messier than others and harder to resolve than others. My reaction to this messy relationship with my father is usually "let me hide and wait until it goes away" (i.e. just survive until he goes home). I am usually a problem solver when it comes to messy things but not in this case. Not today.