The Pain in her Eyes

The Pain in Her Eyes 02/19/20

My mom has always struggled with her weight. One day when I was a teen, my dad (trying to encourage her) said, “It’s not about the weight. It’s about health! You should be able to run around the block, no matter what your weight is.” He was trying to help, but — in typical fashion — he was speaking from his head, not his heart, and his words were hurtful.

My mom turned to me, and let me see the deep pain in her eyes. I felt for her, and thought for weeks about tactful ways I could tell dad that what he said hurt mom.

…but why?…

Why did I believe that it was my place to interfere with a marriage, and try to tell one party a message that was non-verbally communicated to me? If she had something to say, why did she flash it to her son, to tell her husband? Why not just find a time/place/way to tell it herself? 

Answer? Because she was involved in emotional incest.

She laid the groundwork, so far as I can tell, about the time I was five or six. She had won a romantic getaway for two from some game she played at the shopping mall. Instead of taking her husband, she took her young son. Purity rings and “daddy/mommy dates” were all the rage in Christian circles. It did not need to be an unhealthy thing. But it became one.

During the meal, she opened up to her very young son about the problems in her marriage. She said things like, “I know you are a very sensitive child. You will grow up to be a very sensitive man. Not like your father. He can sometimes say things that really hurt me. But you wouldn’t do that. You can learn to be very kind to a woman…” She went on and on. Opening her heart to that young boy. Drawing on his tender soul to nurture her own.

It was a very romantic and posh environment. I still remember the waiter coming around to grind real parmesan cheese on my spaghetti. Afterwards, we went to watch Aladdin. Just the two of us. What a sweet couple. 

I tried to share this with a counsellor a few years back. It seemed significant in some way.

“Well…I’m not sure what to say,” he replied, “that all seems perfectly healthy to me. I’m sure a lot of kids would love to have time like that with their mom.”

But something was off. 

Recently in counselling, I heard the term “Emotional incest.” We all know what incest is: that is sexual actions done to a child. But romantic connections are so much more than sex. There is a term, “emotional affair,” because a woman can (justifiably) become jealous of another woman who has made a profound emotional connection to her husband (or, a husband to a wife). What is deeper? Sharing a bed with someone, or sharing one’s deepest and most personal thoughts and feelings? What is more intimate? Living together? Or being one another’s “safe person” to run to, to confide in, to cry with, when life gets tough?

In the session, “emotional incest” was mentioned in the context of an organization, especially a religious one. A pastor aught to be there to give spiritual guidance to his flock. However, when the pastor turns to ask for emotional help from someone (eg. a secretary, or someone coming into the office for spiritual guidance) the situation gets…weird. One was expecting to receive, but now they are giving. And crucially, they are giving to someone they consider to be an authority. 

Like a child in an incestuous relationship, they are left with the profound confusion of having nonconsensual love forced upon them by an authority figure, who is not giving to them, but rather using them for their own emotional needs. 

That is messed up.

…and that messed me up.

I remember leaving that restaurant feeling warm, a glowing in my guts. Feeling very special. Maybe, even feeling like I was a bit more special than dad. 

In counselling recently, I shared the deepest, most shameful thing I knew. A thing that I (at the time) found so disturbing that I could not share it with anyone, even my wife. “I used to have sexual thoughts for my own mother.” 

“That is perfectly normal,” replied the clinician, “In fact, that is where sexual arousal begins for most healthy little children.” 

I was relieved.

“However,” she continued, “what seems unhealthy in your case is that this happened later in life, when you could still remember it. And these thoughts were very powerful, and still bother you. This speaks to me of something else being present. This emotional incest….”

This reminds me of another event. I had said something, or broken something, or yelled, or in some other way acted out. it caused a family “blowup,” and mom left crying. I was left standing there, as was dad. After an awkward moment dad said, “Now, look what you’ve done!” He was referring to mom. Letting me see the hurt in his eyes, he went storming off after her. 

Now look what I’ve done…

A parent should (at times) feel responsible for the emotions of their child. Within limits. But a child should not ever be made to feel responsible for the emotional wellbeing of their parents.

This conditioning followed me into adult life.

At one job, I had a boss with very poor boundaries. She confided in me, promoted me very quickly, and gave me preferential treatment. At times, she opened up to me about her emotional struggles, about her frustrations with my coworkers, etc. I did not encourage it. Not really. But I did allow it to continue. After all, isn’t that what you do for a female who is in charge? Take care of their emotions? This is how I was trained.

Months later, I got a workplace injury and was summarily fired. “Your contract has expired,” she explained simply, not making eye-contact, “Go ahead and file a workers-compensation claim. You can’t work here anymore.” It felt doubly painful: I lost my job, and I lost my…what? Friend? 

Hurting from these and other experiences, I found comfort in the strict interpretation of the Bible, which does not allow any woman, ever, to be in authority over a man. However, in missions, women outnumber men almost four to one: and most of my supervisors were women. 

As I was supervised by emotionally healthy women, I began to notice a difference. I noticed that they were able to be (in appropriate ways) available for my needs, without requiring me to be available for theirs. I noticed that by keeping things cordial, professional, we were able to keep emotional entanglements out of it. And I learned that it was very possible to work under a female boss.

Flash forwards to the present. My mom recently wrote me:

You always were too independent. You pushed me away from such a young age. Even as a newborn, right home from the hospital, you did not want to nurse. You just put yourself to sleep on your own. And now, you are pushing me away again.

But this is not true love. When you love, you need to “need” one another. But you are becoming so independent! Independent people cannot really love, because it’s not forced. You could live without the person, so your love is freely given…”

Yes, mom…I am pushing you away. And apparently — despite your attempts to groom me — I never was able to satisfy your emotional needs. Perhaps that is because a child is never meant to fill the emotional love tank of a grown woman. You needed to put in the work, and try to love and be loved by the man that you chose. And if that was not possible — then you needed to deal with that in whatever adult way that you could manage, such as grief, counselling, or even divorce. But not by grooming me to be a pseudo-husband to you.

Don’t try to flash those sad eyes at me. I’m not looking.

Your emotions are not my responsibility — they never were.

If you are unhappy in your marriage — deal with it. I have my own marriage, my own kids, and my own soul to take care of. And I simply refuse to give you the kind of “love” that you think you deserve from me.

I am done with that.