Premeditated Resentments
“Expectations are premeditated resentments,” a friend once told me. I’ve found this to be true, always. Resentments lead to anger; suppressed anger leads to depression; and depression leads to self-medicating. How do I know? Well, I spent the first 30 (or so) years self medicating. If it wasn’t drugs, it was alcohol, and if it wasn’t alcohol, it was something else. I’ve been in a continual state of recovering for the past 20 (or so) years.
There is something about marriage that breeds expectations. And this never ends well. Once we start expecting our spouse to do, or be, something, we often end up in that cycle of resentment that leads to separate bedrooms, separate homes, and eventually, left uncorrected, visitation rights or shared custody.
How my parents were able to survive the minefield of resentment and stay married until death separated them, I’ll never know. Seeing the continued resentment in my in-laws, even after 30 years of divorce, just reinforces the power of anger.
“We have been married for over seven years, which given my previous relationship history, is amazing”
We have been married for over seven years, which given my previous relationship history, is amazing. I knew the moment I first met my wife, at a conference in Washington, DC, that she was awesome. Six months later, we ended up attending the same grad school and a friendship developed. After two years, we were married.
They say that love is blind, and “they” are always right! I saw my wife as a beautiful, bubbly, sanguine. I wasn’t prepared for the bossy, controlling, choleric. I didn’t know she was a perfectionist that would insist on cleaning up my act. But it turns out we are perfect for each other. I’m the uncontrollable addict and she’s the controlling fixer in my life. Who’d a thunk it?
For some reason when we mutually decided that she would be the stay at home Mom and I the hard working Dad, we really didn’t know what we were getting into. I thought that she would take the primary responsibility for the kids, house, and food (like my Mom 
did), and I’d take care of the cars, yard, and finances – along with my 40-50 hr/week job. Well, it’s amazing to see what happens when expectations aren’t met.
Yesterday we were headed into Portland for a couple of events. First, I wanted to attend the PDXplore event at the Pacific Northwest College of Art. Second, we were hoping to meet up with some Twitter-types so that She could meet some of my growing circle of virtual friends. Then, if all went well, we’d make a quick stop at Costco (since there isn’t one within an hour of Rainier) and She and the kids could hang out at Powell’s or a nearby park.
Right off the bat two of my expectations were not met. One that we would leave on time; and two, that everything around the house would be taken care of when I came home to pick up The Fam.
To be fair, there were probably more of her expectations not met, but since I’m the one telling the story, we’re not going to get into that here.
So, off we go to PDX, an hour and a half late. Then I can’t find the Beaverton Costco. How hard can this be, I’ve been there a dozen times, I know that area well, but I can’t find the entrance (stupid land-use planning committees!). We arrive downtown, in the Pearl District about 30 minutes late and I’m just frustrated.
To bring this to a boil, She is showing little or no patience with the kids. Something about being with them constantly, being overwhelmed, typical stay-at-home mom rants. Not helping my need to be at the PDXplore panel discussion on time and to get a good seat. It probably didn’t help that I hadn’t eaten since morning.
So after a couple pieces of Pizza Schmizza, my attitude was better. But it didn’t take long for hers to pull me into the pit. By the time we got home (it’s an hour), I was pissed at her, and she was in tears. But few words were spoken. We crawled silently into bed, snuggled with the kids, and as soon as they were asleep I slipped out to my office for a little anger-induced CSI:Miami. Then I slept on the couch in my office.
“I hate it when she doesn’t live up to my expectations!”
“All this built up resentment is Her fault!”
“Grrrrrrr…!”
This morning, we hugged, we talked, we apologized and forgave. That’s not enough though. The kids put a crimp in our ability to communicate well. We need some time to talk. We need to be clear on what are reasonable and unreasonable expectations. The best thing we can do for our kids, is to be free of resentment, anger, and mistrust.
Before kids, we had a weekly date night and we made it a point to attend an annual marriage retreat. We know that it is important to avoid the mistakes of our parents. But, we’ve had a steady stream of infants and toddlers for the past 3-1/2 years. Not an excuse, just an explanation.
I think we’re going to have to have more quality time together. I can’t stand the resentment! But more importantly, I love my wife!
Genuine Integrity: I want to be real
Substance; Authenticity; Transparency; Relevancy; Genuine.
These are words that are often used to describe well-liked people.
Down-to-earth; Salt-of-the-earth; The real deal!
For some reason, it seems, the older someone gets, the more their true character is evident. Sometimes I look at celebrities and I’m amazed at how much ooomph is behind their personality. This has often been a curious feature to me. Whether gentle, arrogant, ignorant, funny, or just there – certain celebrities seem to have a genuineness with a boost. It is a confidence that turbocharges an everyday personality trait and makes them famous.
Gary Vanderchuk is truly one of these people. An everyday guy, living an everyman’s dream. He puts himself out there for the world to see. He is genuine, authentic, and quite often overly outspoken about the simplest of subjects. However, it isn’t the subject matter that draws people to him – it is his willingness to say what’s on his heart; often without a filter.
Last night he posted one of his typical online VBlogs, and people were raving about it. I went and watched, to see what he said, but I found nothing in the content. What I saw instead was a guy being real. The cameras were taping/broadcasting before the show was due to start, and he was just being himself. That is what people find so cool!
One commenter, if not many, talked about him being purely genuine.
When I heard him speak at a Legion of Talk event a few weeks ago, I saw that genuiness for myself – especially in the casual banter on the sidewalk afterwards.
Now, I’ve had nearly 12-13 minutes of fame and I’m not eager to round it out to 15, but I do have to admit that there is a certain affirmation when you know people are listening. Now I’ve been blogging since about the turn of the century, but without much readership. Mostly, it was an opportunity for me to capture my thoughts, but no one was reading them.
When I first started this blog, I had no focus and no purpose. I just wanted to hone my writing skills and express some rants, raves, and observations. However, about a month ago, I had a vision of what this blog could become. Since then, I’ve been excited about what I’ve been writing, and it appears that people have caught the vision. My readership has nearly trippled. And that is affirming.
For several years, I’ve been watching what is now called the “fatherless generation.” I see people who are not skilled or prepared to parent, but having lots of random children. I see people who would make great parents, take a cautious approach to adding more children to an increasingly overpopulated planet and corrupt culture. Some children in this culture are resilient, and others suffer through abuse, neglect, and abandonment with varying degrees of dysfunction. It has disturbed me for some time.
After dealing with some issues between my father and me, I have realized what kind of Dad I want to be. Though I don’t have it all figured out, and I have great tendencies towards hypocrisy, arrogance, and timidity, I still see a great need for the voices of the brave who put fatherhood above all other quests.
I strive to be genuine; I strive to be authentic; and I strive to be transparent and real. If my family chooses to be vegetarian (and they have), I don’t want to sneak around eating dead cows and chickens behind their backs. On the other hand, I don’t want to steer my children towards an unhealthy lifestyle.
(NOTE: I happen to believe that the vegetarian diet is the best choice. I just choose to enable my hedonistic approach to eating sometimes. I believe that a vegetarian diet will enhance and help to prolong my life. However, my tastebuds have not relinquished control of my appetite yet. I’m going to have to have a heart-to-heart with them soon.)
The older I get, the more genuine and authentic I become. Now, as I approach my 50th birthday, I get concerned that this will lead me to become one of two people: 1) a crochety old man; or, 2) a sweet old guy with “interesting” ideas. Maybe there’s a third option, we’ll see.
Either way, I want to live an integrated life. I want my thoughts, my beliefs, my actions, and my words to be coordinated in harmony with one another. This is called integrity.
I want to be genuine.
I want to have itegrity.
I want to be authentic.
I want to be transparent.
and….I want to be real.
Hulk Out
(Gladstone) – I really like the title of the Raging Dad blog. The title alone really caught my eye. I wish I’d thought of that. You see, I come from a long line of raging dads, grandpas, and so on. My grandfather once
whipped my Dad (when he was a boy) with a willow switch for leaving a screwdriver out all night. I can remember a few of my dad’s rages and rants.
For the most part, I admired my Dad for his willingness to stand up to anyone. In my eyes, my Dad was superhuman. One time, an inspector was looking over my Dad’s shoulder while my Dad was in a ditch trying to solve some complicated waterline problem (My Dad 
was a pipeline contractor). The inspector kept giving my Dad advice and telling him what he could and could not do. Twice my Dad told him to leave him alone and to leave.
Not knowing my Dad, and thinking that because he was a government inspector, he didn’t need to listen to this lowly ditch-digger, the inspector stayed. The third time my Dad yelled at him to go. But it wasn’t just the words that were scary, it was the look in his eyes. A sane person would know that my raging dad was insane when he was angry.
In the long run, this didn’t work out very well
Even after the stern, no-nonsense third warning, the inspector had not left. Just then the inspector started to micromanage the situation again. By Dad rose up like Lou Ferrigno and in one loud, booming word, “NOW!!” The inspector turned on his heals and ran squarely into a steel post, which knocked him to the ground.
In the long run, this didn’t work out very well. This inspector hounded my Dad on every job he ever did in that county.
I’d like to say that I’ve learned to control my raging, but that would be a lie. I have learned to be a little more discreet, and there are times when I’ve realized that rage would make things better, but like generations before me, I’ve allowed my lower nature to take control too many times. This morning was one of those times.
From the very beginning, the experience at the Oxford Suites Motel has been less than ideal. From a very late checkin, to too few towels in the room that took at least three calls to correct, I’ve been less than satisfied. The staff seems indifferent to the guests and there has just been one little thing after another.
Like a growing number of people (See this Newsweek editorial), I don’t need, or want, a TV in every venue I frequent. Living in a home without TV makes us even more sensitive to the blaring TVs in public places. So, the first day here, I asked the staff if we had to have the TV on in the dining area. It was crowded and noisy already, the TV just made the cacophony worse. The staff laughed at my joke (but it wasn’t a joke).
When the dining room thinned out, I looked around and no one was watching the blaring news program. What did we care about the morning commute in Portland? So, I asked around, but no one minded if I shut it off. So I did.
Yesterday, the TV was already off and it was bliss
Yesterday, the TV was already off and it was bliss. My kids focused on their breakfast, my wife and I were able to talk with other guests, and it was a much more pleasant experience. Today, I repeated the experience from a few days ago and turned off the TV when I saw no one watching it.
Toward the end of my breakfast a young man in a sport jacket came over and introduced himself as the general manager of the motel. He adjusted his coat a few times, shuffled his feet, and then told me how the kitchen staff were upset that I shut off the TV.
Well, I didn’t Hulk-out on him, but I certainly could feel the rage welling up inside me. In fact, I sat still in my chair, legs crossed in a relaxed pose, but eyes flashing fire. This poor young man, looking like a fresh graduate from Joe’s Used Car Salesman School, tried to defend himself. That’s when I began to share with him the various missteps his staff has taken this past week.
Before the conversation was over, he was apologizing and promising to take action. I told him, I’m not looking to get anyone in trouble; this is a systems issue, not a problem with individual staff (translation: “This is your responsibility.”)
I’m not proud of the way I handled it
I’m not proud of the way I handled it. I was a bit heavy handed and overbearing. It was also embarrassing to my wife. I’m just glad I didn’t rise to my feet and thump him in the chest.
I’m learning, but I’m still continuing on the journey…
(NOTE: I’ve told my wife before that this is the reason people like The Hulk so much. It’s the rage we feel all too often inside; we just don’t have the body to back it up.)
Confessing my Dad Attitude 