Disclaimer: This is an incredibly charged, personal and potentially incendiary post. I imagine many of my readers - even those with whom I have a good relationship- are going to find this post distasteful. You might very well be disappointed that I chose to share such a horrific, immoral reality in so public a manner. I just ask that you withhold judgement on me until the end because I think it's an important issue. If, after reading, you still think I'm a terrible person for sharing this, by all means, feel free to tell me so.
Here's a photo of my father and I from my wedding. We look happy enough, right? I'm smiling, he's leaning in for a kiss. Some of you are probably even tilting your head to the side with a bit of an "Awww" dangling from your lips.
Truth about this photo, however, is that this is the tail end of our father-daughter dance and we both broke away from the awkwardness so quickly that the photographer had to call us back for the photo op before we physically repelled one another.
You'd never know that from the photo, though. It just looks like he's leaning in to give his daughter a kiss. Truthfully, the "lean" is actually the result of him stumbling back towards me because once the obligatory dance was over, we both made a quick break for opposite sides of the room, eager to shake off the faux-affection that never happened before and would likely never happen again.
Mind you, it's not that I hate my father, and he doesn't hate me. In fact, we are terribly similar in many ways. I undoubtedly have his sense of humor. I have his taste in television I have his quick witted insights and, God help me, I've got his penchant for awful things. I look much more like him than I do my mother, and somehow I inherited his skin disorder (the only one of my siblings lucky enough for that honor - ay). I also always respected his desire to be fair with me, something I believe he did because he recognized a bit of himself in my rebellious ways.
Anyhow, on an intrinsic level, I know I love my father. I appreciate his humor and know that, in his own way, he tried to love his family as best he could. The problem is, his best was pretty terrible, and after trying over and over again, he gave up. Once he gave up, he simply accepted that he'd screwed up so many times that he should no longer bother trying. After all, why should he? He believed we despised him for his transgressions, and given the hole he'd dug himself into, how was he possibly going to claw his way out again?
So like a sinner who commits a mortal sin and despairs of God's Mercy, my father gave up trying to make up for how terribly he hurt our family. He gave up and accepted that his place as "father" meant nothing more than "I contributed some biology, medical insurance, and spending money to these little people running underfoot."
Truth about this photo, however, is that this is the tail end of our father-daughter dance and we both broke away from the awkwardness so quickly that the photographer had to call us back for the photo op before we physically repelled one another.
You'd never know that from the photo, though. It just looks like he's leaning in to give his daughter a kiss. Truthfully, the "lean" is actually the result of him stumbling back towards me because once the obligatory dance was over, we both made a quick break for opposite sides of the room, eager to shake off the faux-affection that never happened before and would likely never happen again.
Mind you, it's not that I hate my father, and he doesn't hate me. In fact, we are terribly similar in many ways. I undoubtedly have his sense of humor. I have his taste in television I have his quick witted insights and, God help me, I've got his penchant for awful things. I look much more like him than I do my mother, and somehow I inherited his skin disorder (the only one of my siblings lucky enough for that honor - ay). I also always respected his desire to be fair with me, something I believe he did because he recognized a bit of himself in my rebellious ways.
Anyhow, on an intrinsic level, I know I love my father. I appreciate his humor and know that, in his own way, he tried to love his family as best he could. The problem is, his best was pretty terrible, and after trying over and over again, he gave up. Once he gave up, he simply accepted that he'd screwed up so many times that he should no longer bother trying. After all, why should he? He believed we despised him for his transgressions, and given the hole he'd dug himself into, how was he possibly going to claw his way out again?
So like a sinner who commits a mortal sin and despairs of God's Mercy, my father gave up trying to make up for how terribly he hurt our family. He gave up and accepted that his place as "father" meant nothing more than "I contributed some biology, medical insurance, and spending money to these little people running underfoot."
As the years went by, his despair turned to anger as he sought to place blame on others, most notably my mother. The anger was sometimes volatile, but slowly it turned into a passive-aggressive tug of war between the two of them, fading into a simmering stew of mistrust, anger, hurt, and resentment.
You see, my father is an avid adulterer. The man has had a plethora of relationships outside of his marriage since well before I was born. I always knew. I grew up with that knowledge as if it was part of my DNA - as natural as breathing. I cannot remember a time in which I didn't know my father was attached to other women. That means that from my earliest childhood, I understood that something was radically wrong with the marriage of my parents.
The problem, however, was that it was so "normal" that I internalized some incredibly bad habits that colored my expectations for gender norms, relationships, and even how my future husband and I would coexist one day. I imagine this explains why my siblings have such trouble finding fulfillment in meaningful relationships with the opposite sex and why I had to do some serious personal reflection and rectification in order to save my own marriage. For as much as I'm sure they tried for our sake, our basis for marital joy was a heartbreaking, resentful mess that put us at a real disadvantage (from an interpersonal and even psychological standpoint).
So to cope with this incredibly difficult and hurtful situation, my mother did her best to pretend that his cheating didn't absolutely kill her. My father, who had given up attempting to rectify his ways, simply ignored that there was an issue and became something akin to Dr. Jekyll. In our home, in our presence, he was Dad. We knew, however, that as soon as he walked out those doors, there was a good chance he wouldn't be coming home because instead of being Dad, he'd be some other woman's lover.
We started joking he was likely "Dad" to a brood of half-siblings we didn't know about. Joking... always joking... because it's better to laugh than to cry. Tears admit the terror of rejection. Crying implies weakness, and no sign of weakness will be tolerated. Where cracks show, crumbling follows. We wanted to be strong for one another - for our mother. Thus, humor became our only recourse, and this sadistic humor sustained and, dare I say, bonded us which, in a way, made the situation even more impossibly difficult for both my mother and my father.
It was difficult on my father - obviously - because we were basically bonded in disdain for him. We had no respect for him. Why should we? That sort of disdain is enough to kill anyone's motivation to attempt fixing things.
However, it must have also been difficult on my mother, because once this cynical humor took root, she closed the door to any other method of healing. She was vindicated in our bonding against the source of her resentment. She might not have won the battle, but I'm sure in her mind, she won the war, because she had the love and admiration of her children. He was an object of scorn, but she had (and continues to have) the moral high-ground.
That juxtaposition, caused and fed by our immature response to a situation we couldn't begin to understand, is what solidified the divide between our parents, and it was, quite frankly, the framework which held up the facade of what I'll call "The Game."
You see, my father is an avid adulterer. The man has had a plethora of relationships outside of his marriage since well before I was born. I always knew. I grew up with that knowledge as if it was part of my DNA - as natural as breathing. I cannot remember a time in which I didn't know my father was attached to other women. That means that from my earliest childhood, I understood that something was radically wrong with the marriage of my parents.
The problem, however, was that it was so "normal" that I internalized some incredibly bad habits that colored my expectations for gender norms, relationships, and even how my future husband and I would coexist one day. I imagine this explains why my siblings have such trouble finding fulfillment in meaningful relationships with the opposite sex and why I had to do some serious personal reflection and rectification in order to save my own marriage. For as much as I'm sure they tried for our sake, our basis for marital joy was a heartbreaking, resentful mess that put us at a real disadvantage (from an interpersonal and even psychological standpoint).
So to cope with this incredibly difficult and hurtful situation, my mother did her best to pretend that his cheating didn't absolutely kill her. My father, who had given up attempting to rectify his ways, simply ignored that there was an issue and became something akin to Dr. Jekyll. In our home, in our presence, he was Dad. We knew, however, that as soon as he walked out those doors, there was a good chance he wouldn't be coming home because instead of being Dad, he'd be some other woman's lover.
We started joking he was likely "Dad" to a brood of half-siblings we didn't know about. Joking... always joking... because it's better to laugh than to cry. Tears admit the terror of rejection. Crying implies weakness, and no sign of weakness will be tolerated. Where cracks show, crumbling follows. We wanted to be strong for one another - for our mother. Thus, humor became our only recourse, and this sadistic humor sustained and, dare I say, bonded us which, in a way, made the situation even more impossibly difficult for both my mother and my father.
It was difficult on my father - obviously - because we were basically bonded in disdain for him. We had no respect for him. Why should we? That sort of disdain is enough to kill anyone's motivation to attempt fixing things.
However, it must have also been difficult on my mother, because once this cynical humor took root, she closed the door to any other method of healing. She was vindicated in our bonding against the source of her resentment. She might not have won the battle, but I'm sure in her mind, she won the war, because she had the love and admiration of her children. He was an object of scorn, but she had (and continues to have) the moral high-ground.
That juxtaposition, caused and fed by our immature response to a situation we couldn't begin to understand, is what solidified the divide between our parents, and it was, quite frankly, the framework which held up the facade of what I'll call "The Game."
Rules of "The Game"
- Everyone knows that Dad is cheating on Mom, so a certain level of disrespect is accepted if not openly encouraged.
- When Dad is home, complete ignorance of his adultery is acted out in minute detail. Seriously, it astounds me that we haven't all gotten Oscars from the Oscar Fairy.
- Disparaging comments about Dad garner big points - the more colorful, the better!
- Sarcastic comments about his marriage vows, fidelity, worth to the family, etc count as bonus points.
- It's important to know who is "in" on The Game. If they're "in" on the game, all bits of information are fair game. However, if they're not "in" on The Game, you lose BIIIIG points for opening your mouth.
- Mom typically decides who is "in." Kids can't bring others "in" until they're at least high school age (because at that point, we'd all been desensitized enough that it didn't matter who knew. To us, everyone knew, and anyone who didn't would find out soon enough).
- Dad's part in The Game is to pretend he has no idea The Game is being played and that we have no idea he's committing adultery.
I'm sure there were other nuances in there, but you get the gist. For years, we'd pretend that nothing was wrong and that we didn't openly despise our father behind his back. For our part, we kept the secret that we knew about his adultery. For his part, he kept the secret that he knew we scorned him venomously. Maybe he thought (rightly) that our scorn was the only way we knew how to fight back for our mother's sake. He certainly took the beating, likely because he believed he deserved to be treated poorly for what he was doing.
Since marrying John and coming to understand just how difficult, important and necessary marriage is, I've tried really hard to stop falling into the trap of using humor to deal with the very real damage caused by my father's actions. I've made small attempts at letting him know that there was still hope for reconciliation if he'd just try. The problem is, my own small attempts weren't of much use because it's doubtful he understood them. In truth, I don't know my own father and thus I don't know how to reach out to him.
On Father's Day, I called him since I couldn't be there in person to celebrate. After I wished him a happy Father's Day, I acknowledged Mom had told me he was looking for help unloading his deceased friend's stuff. Since I attend a flea market as a vendor once per year, he was hoping I'd unload everything there.
I didn't have a problem with that, so I set up a date and time to meet him to collect everything. When he told me to meet him "near the garage," I got a sinking feeling.
My childhood home (where my mother and father still live with two of my siblings) does not have a garage. "The garage" refers to a series of garages he used to keep behind his girlfriend's house.
On Father's Day, my dad invited me to his girlfriend's house, with my mom presumably in the same room when he answered my phone call.
The Game - he wasn't playing by the very clearly defined rules that we'd agreed upon by unspoken contract! What the heck did he think he was doing?! He's not supposed to admit his transgressions so carelessly!
I chalked it up to temporary stupidity. Maybe it slipped or maybe he meant that the new storage place was up the way from there. I dunno. I just instantly blocked out the possibility that he actually thought I'd ever step foot into his girlfriend's house. No way.
Apparently yes way. When I met him today, he totally expected me to enter her house - with MY SON - to take away the items.
Today, I officially lost my mind and, like an angry child done with checkers, swiped The Game off the table and smashed it against the wall.
I damn near shouted "There is NO WAY I would ever, in a million years, bring my son into your girlfriend's house, Dad. Are you out of your flippin' mind?! NO. NO! I seriously can't even... what are you thinking?! What is WRONG with you?! NO. NO! I'm not going into that house. NO! And what... you expected me to bring MY SON in there with me?! Are you CRAZY?!
I get that this family has pretended that this was well and wonderful since forever, but there is NO WAY ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH that I will EVER allow you to bring MY SON into this. NO!"
Then I promptly got back into my car, had Vincent say goodbye, and drove off, shaking harder than a California earthquake. Tears were threatening because the waves of anger within me had reached a molten apex. I couldn't tolerate being near him another second because there is just no way I'd allow him to see me ruffled beyond the anger I'd unleashed at the thought of him allowing his grandson to become acquainted with seeing his Pop Pop living with another woman.
Has he really become that complacent? As I said to my friend, of course he has. We all have. His incremental indecency has gotten worse and worse as we let him get away with more and more unabashed immorality. Our feigned ignorance translated to acceptance for him, and as soon as I realized that, I blew a gasket.
I will NEVER AGAIN play that abhorrent game. I will never again allow him to mistake acting for acceptance. I will never give him passes for acting in this manner, especially knowing how much his behavior influenced my own paradigm. I will never allow that sort of filth to create a filter over Vincent's worldview. NEVER.
I just can't. I don't even know where to go from here. I really don't. I was so tempted to wash my hands of him and never bother with him again, but I honestly, truly understand that I, too, played a nasty part in this. True, I was a child, but I was a child who understood what I was doing and actively participated well past the age of reason.
And even with him in the state he's in, he's still my father and I hate admitting it, but I do love him. I know he loves us kids (and his grand kids), but he's so afraid of being rejected, himself, that he doesn't make any move to amend his ways.
Maybe he was even hoping he wouldn't need to and that, in time, we'd just learn to deal with his ways.
Life cannot continue in this manner. I will never again play the idiot, and I will never allow him to feign innocence. He knows I know, and he knows everyone else knows. He can't keep pretending that what he's doing means nothing and is hurting no one. The Game is officially over.
I have no clue how to begin picking up the pieces, though. Not a clue in the world.
Since marrying John and coming to understand just how difficult, important and necessary marriage is, I've tried really hard to stop falling into the trap of using humor to deal with the very real damage caused by my father's actions. I've made small attempts at letting him know that there was still hope for reconciliation if he'd just try. The problem is, my own small attempts weren't of much use because it's doubtful he understood them. In truth, I don't know my own father and thus I don't know how to reach out to him.
On Father's Day, I called him since I couldn't be there in person to celebrate. After I wished him a happy Father's Day, I acknowledged Mom had told me he was looking for help unloading his deceased friend's stuff. Since I attend a flea market as a vendor once per year, he was hoping I'd unload everything there.
I didn't have a problem with that, so I set up a date and time to meet him to collect everything. When he told me to meet him "near the garage," I got a sinking feeling.
My childhood home (where my mother and father still live with two of my siblings) does not have a garage. "The garage" refers to a series of garages he used to keep behind his girlfriend's house.
On Father's Day, my dad invited me to his girlfriend's house, with my mom presumably in the same room when he answered my phone call.
The Game - he wasn't playing by the very clearly defined rules that we'd agreed upon by unspoken contract! What the heck did he think he was doing?! He's not supposed to admit his transgressions so carelessly!
I chalked it up to temporary stupidity. Maybe it slipped or maybe he meant that the new storage place was up the way from there. I dunno. I just instantly blocked out the possibility that he actually thought I'd ever step foot into his girlfriend's house. No way.
Apparently yes way. When I met him today, he totally expected me to enter her house - with MY SON - to take away the items.
Today, I officially lost my mind and, like an angry child done with checkers, swiped The Game off the table and smashed it against the wall.
I damn near shouted "There is NO WAY I would ever, in a million years, bring my son into your girlfriend's house, Dad. Are you out of your flippin' mind?! NO. NO! I seriously can't even... what are you thinking?! What is WRONG with you?! NO. NO! I'm not going into that house. NO! And what... you expected me to bring MY SON in there with me?! Are you CRAZY?!
I get that this family has pretended that this was well and wonderful since forever, but there is NO WAY ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH that I will EVER allow you to bring MY SON into this. NO!"
Then I promptly got back into my car, had Vincent say goodbye, and drove off, shaking harder than a California earthquake. Tears were threatening because the waves of anger within me had reached a molten apex. I couldn't tolerate being near him another second because there is just no way I'd allow him to see me ruffled beyond the anger I'd unleashed at the thought of him allowing his grandson to become acquainted with seeing his Pop Pop living with another woman.
Has he really become that complacent? As I said to my friend, of course he has. We all have. His incremental indecency has gotten worse and worse as we let him get away with more and more unabashed immorality. Our feigned ignorance translated to acceptance for him, and as soon as I realized that, I blew a gasket.
I will NEVER AGAIN play that abhorrent game. I will never again allow him to mistake acting for acceptance. I will never give him passes for acting in this manner, especially knowing how much his behavior influenced my own paradigm. I will never allow that sort of filth to create a filter over Vincent's worldview. NEVER.
I just can't. I don't even know where to go from here. I really don't. I was so tempted to wash my hands of him and never bother with him again, but I honestly, truly understand that I, too, played a nasty part in this. True, I was a child, but I was a child who understood what I was doing and actively participated well past the age of reason.
And even with him in the state he's in, he's still my father and I hate admitting it, but I do love him. I know he loves us kids (and his grand kids), but he's so afraid of being rejected, himself, that he doesn't make any move to amend his ways.
Maybe he was even hoping he wouldn't need to and that, in time, we'd just learn to deal with his ways.
Life cannot continue in this manner. I will never again play the idiot, and I will never allow him to feign innocence. He knows I know, and he knows everyone else knows. He can't keep pretending that what he's doing means nothing and is hurting no one. The Game is officially over.
I have no clue how to begin picking up the pieces, though. Not a clue in the world.
Katherine
I’ve hesitated saying this, but maybe there is something in it you will find helpful. My mother is a Narcissist (not just as a description, but most likely would be clinically diagnosed with the disorder as such) as well as an alcoholic. It has been written that even therapy for those with Narcissistic Personality Disorder is rarely successful because narcissists simply don’t believe anything is wrong. Add in the alcohol and being around her is like walking on eggshells all the time. I never know how she is going to behave. What complicates things is that she and my dad live in the same house as us. So, while our situations are very different, I do see some similarities. There is very little chance my mom, like your dad, will change. Despite living in the same house, and besides the fact my second oldest is “shy” with her, none of the kids have any clue. We’ve simply kept them away from her when she is drunk (just about every evening) and never leave them alone with her. I also keep my distance even during the day to avoid her negativity. My primary weapon for her salvation is prayer. I pray for her and beg the Lord to give me the chance to say a Chaplet of Divine Mercy for her just before she dies, as Jesus promised St. Faustina no soul for whom the Chaplet was said on their deathbed would be damned.
You might be in a similar situation in that prayer might be your best weapon for his salvation and distance your best defense for your own peace of mind and your son’s purity. Time with the Blessed Sacrament would benefit your discernment on the best way to proceed.
Pam
I grew up in a similar situation but instead of resenting my dad, I had no respect for my mother. I never understood how she could stay in that marriage. I grew very close to my dad and was distraught when he passed suddenly. I am going through divorce #2. I am my fathers daughter. No, I don't think you are terrible at all. We all handle things differently.After my dad passed, the rest of my family pushed me and my children to the side. Mom sat back and watched without mumbling one word. I have decided I would never judge anyone ever again. God bless and thank you for being an honest person.
Cam
Oh Sweetie! Reading this I just want to hug you! That must have been one of the hardest father's days ever. I just can't even imagine... and I can completely understand your reaction, especially when it came to protecting your son!
Katherine S.
Oh I am so, so sorry! But you can't really blame yourself... As a child, even knowing what he was doing was wrong doesn't mean you know how to cope or what to do about it. There are no instructions for kids on something like this.
Dom C.
(HUG)
It's as you said. He hasn't stopped because no one's ever called him on it. Things won't necessarily change now that you have... But you're free of the lies, and he no longer gets to live in his fantasy world.
Be angry - but not at the child or young adult you were. We get through the pain that others inflict on us as best we can, and taking on blame for our coping mechanisms is masochistic, to say the least.
Deo volente
After reading this and reflecting, something popped into my mind. I can't imagine how hard it has been for you and those you love. When we see things happening, we see them from our view, naturally. Have you ever asked God what He wants you to do? We consult those whom we love, but how about Him who knows all....? Perhaps, He will lead you to the road you seek...a resolution unexpected. The road to peace - mental and spiritual....as well as the resignation that we can control so little.
Jacob Wall
Wow - that was, as you said, emotionally charged. Very honest, very open. I had no idea that you were writing about something that happened so recently. I don't think you are terrible or anything like that. On the contrary, I admire your honesty. I can't imagine that you're saying anything here that you haven't told the people in question or that they don't know. There are those who glorify family issues, or use it to to build up fame, but you're not doing anything of the sort.
As for the topic; I know someone who *has* disowned his father. His father is not a good man, and is even a worse father, and a worse husband even yet (if I understand what I've heard about him.) I've known them ( my friend, his father and the rest of their family) for most of my life. When you meet his father now, he doesn't seem remorseful or sorry, but he does seem like a lost old man with nothing to do and nowhere to go in his life. My friend is the oldest and got the worst of it, always. I can imagine that forgiveness is very hard; he's chosen an easier road, one that prevents forgiveness and prevents true healing.
So, where to go next? How to start picking up the pieces? I have no idea. I can't answer because I haven't been there. But I can say this; don't despair. And, there is one person who does know; St. Joseph. Go to him in prayer. He is the patron of families and of fathers, the earthly model of the ideal father. He is also the patron of the dying - so, I'm sure he would intercede for a dying soul, even if someone is not physically dying.
If you already have an image of him, get another one and dedicate it especially to your father. Put it in a place where it will remind you to pray to St. Joseph often. Find a shrine or church nearby dedicated to him and go there as often as you can to pray. And if you do all of this already, do it more!
This may not be very direct action for the situation, but I believe it will help show you what to do next.
I also know someone very closely whose parents live in an ongoing "game" for a similar situation. For her, it was hard because it started when she was an adult. It was also easier because the "game" has never got so elaborate. But it shattered her mother emotionally. I saw pictures, and the year he told her he was being unfaithful, she put about 10 years of age on.
Her mother doesn't help because she keeps holding on to the facade of a "normal" family hoping that one day it really will be a normal, so she protects him, helps him, gives him money, etc. Her daughter has tried to help but it just doesn't work. Sometimes, other people just won't let us help. But that doesn't stop us from hoping and praying.
On the other hand, there are things we can try, and praying for guidance can help make us not rely on our own strength when we try and not to be frustrated if they don't work.
I'm probably saying too much about things I know almost nothing about. But I hope something helps a little.
I’ve hesitated saying this, but maybe there is something in it you will find helpful. My mother is a Narcissist (not just as a description, but most likely would be clinically diagnosed with the disorder as such) as well as an alcoholic. It has been written that even therapy for those with Narcissistic Personality Disorder is rarely successful because narcissists simply don’t believe anything is wrong. Add in the alcohol and being around her is like walking on eggshells all the time. I never know how she is going to behave. What complicates things is that she and my dad live in the same house as us. So, while our situations are very different, I do see some similarities. There is very little chance my mom, like your dad, will change. Despite living in the same house, and besides the fact my second oldest is “shy” with her, none of the kids have any clue. We’ve simply kept them away from her when she is drunk (just about every evening) and never leave them alone with her. I also keep my distance even during the day to avoid her negativity. My primary weapon for her salvation is prayer. I pray for her and beg the Lord to give me the chance to say a Chaplet of Divine Mercy for her just before she dies, as Jesus promised St. Faustina no soul for whom the Chaplet was said on their deathbed would be damned.
You might be in a similar situation in that prayer might be your best weapon for his salvation and distance your best defense for your own peace of mind and your son’s purity. Time with the Blessed Sacrament would benefit your discernment on the best way to proceed.
Pam
I grew up in a similar situation but instead of resenting my dad, I had no respect for my mother. I never understood how she could stay in that marriage. I grew very close to my dad and was distraught when he passed suddenly. I am going through divorce #2. I am my fathers daughter. No, I don't think you are terrible at all. We all handle things differently.After my dad passed, the rest of my family pushed me and my children to the side. Mom sat back and watched without mumbling one word. I have decided I would never judge anyone ever again. God bless and thank you for being an honest person.
Cam
Oh Sweetie! Reading this I just want to hug you! That must have been one of the hardest father's days ever. I just can't even imagine... and I can completely understand your reaction, especially when it came to protecting your son!
Katherine S.
Oh I am so, so sorry! But you can't really blame yourself... As a child, even knowing what he was doing was wrong doesn't mean you know how to cope or what to do about it. There are no instructions for kids on something like this.
Dom C.
(HUG)
It's as you said. He hasn't stopped because no one's ever called him on it. Things won't necessarily change now that you have... But you're free of the lies, and he no longer gets to live in his fantasy world.
Be angry - but not at the child or young adult you were. We get through the pain that others inflict on us as best we can, and taking on blame for our coping mechanisms is masochistic, to say the least.
Deo volente
After reading this and reflecting, something popped into my mind. I can't imagine how hard it has been for you and those you love. When we see things happening, we see them from our view, naturally. Have you ever asked God what He wants you to do? We consult those whom we love, but how about Him who knows all....? Perhaps, He will lead you to the road you seek...a resolution unexpected. The road to peace - mental and spiritual....as well as the resignation that we can control so little.
Jacob Wall
Wow - that was, as you said, emotionally charged. Very honest, very open. I had no idea that you were writing about something that happened so recently. I don't think you are terrible or anything like that. On the contrary, I admire your honesty. I can't imagine that you're saying anything here that you haven't told the people in question or that they don't know. There are those who glorify family issues, or use it to to build up fame, but you're not doing anything of the sort.
As for the topic; I know someone who *has* disowned his father. His father is not a good man, and is even a worse father, and a worse husband even yet (if I understand what I've heard about him.) I've known them ( my friend, his father and the rest of their family) for most of my life. When you meet his father now, he doesn't seem remorseful or sorry, but he does seem like a lost old man with nothing to do and nowhere to go in his life. My friend is the oldest and got the worst of it, always. I can imagine that forgiveness is very hard; he's chosen an easier road, one that prevents forgiveness and prevents true healing.
So, where to go next? How to start picking up the pieces? I have no idea. I can't answer because I haven't been there. But I can say this; don't despair. And, there is one person who does know; St. Joseph. Go to him in prayer. He is the patron of families and of fathers, the earthly model of the ideal father. He is also the patron of the dying - so, I'm sure he would intercede for a dying soul, even if someone is not physically dying.
If you already have an image of him, get another one and dedicate it especially to your father. Put it in a place where it will remind you to pray to St. Joseph often. Find a shrine or church nearby dedicated to him and go there as often as you can to pray. And if you do all of this already, do it more!
This may not be very direct action for the situation, but I believe it will help show you what to do next.
I also know someone very closely whose parents live in an ongoing "game" for a similar situation. For her, it was hard because it started when she was an adult. It was also easier because the "game" has never got so elaborate. But it shattered her mother emotionally. I saw pictures, and the year he told her he was being unfaithful, she put about 10 years of age on.
Her mother doesn't help because she keeps holding on to the facade of a "normal" family hoping that one day it really will be a normal, so she protects him, helps him, gives him money, etc. Her daughter has tried to help but it just doesn't work. Sometimes, other people just won't let us help. But that doesn't stop us from hoping and praying.
On the other hand, there are things we can try, and praying for guidance can help make us not rely on our own strength when we try and not to be frustrated if they don't work.
I'm probably saying too much about things I know almost nothing about. But I hope something helps a little.