Divorce or Die is a fortnightly series exploring Poppy Miller’s tribulations and triumphs as she navigates infidelity, sex, separation and ultimately, divorce. For more of Poppy’s stories, click here.
Divorce or Die: That Time I Married My Dad
I’m lucky enough to have found two therapists—an individual and a couples—to help me slog through this mess of a shattered marriage. If I could have a wish right now, it would be for everyone to have access to a good therapist. That is, if you weren’t blessed with emotionally healthy parents. If you were, god bless and skip this post.
I’ll tell you something your therapist won’t do. She won’t allow you to blame your lying, cheating, spineless husband for everything that went wrong with your relationship. At least mine won’t. I’ve spent several months examining my part in our failing marriage. I’ve learned what codependence and narcissism are. I’ve discovered I’m a love avoidant (with a few love addiction triggers). I know the importance of boundaries. And most edifying/horrifying of all:
I married my dad.
I really thought my sister was the one with the Electra complex, but turns out I’m also a Greek tragedy—as opposed to Matt Murdock’s badass insane girlfriend. (So… Batman or Daredevil? Toss-up for me.)
Anyway, this is the psychological hamster wheel we put ourselves on when our parents have crap marriages and are crap at parenting. As half-formed adults, we try to take control of our powerless childhoods by reenacting the very awful situations we witnessed and grew up in, hoping to fix them this time around.
Spoiler: This is an exercise in futility and heartache.
This is the psychological hamster wheel we put ourselves on when our parents have crap marriages and are crap at parenting.
Marrying your dad (or your mom) won’t do a damn thing to repair your lonely, abusive, frightening, fill-in-the-blank childhood. If you’re not mentally and emotionally sound enough to choose someone who isn’t a replica of your parent, you’re not healthy enough to fix the problem. See how that works?
Instead, you’ll spiral into the same dysfunction, perhaps slightly better than what your parents modeled for you. And then you’ll model that for your kids, continuing the cycle. Generational, epigenetic.
Fuck, this is depressing.
But there’s a silver lining, right? RIGHT?!
I suppose the adage of knowledge being power is useful here. Now you know why you fall for unavailable men obsessed with their work and egos who view women as objects or prizes, have no interest in an equal partnership, and think infidelity and betrayal are justifiable options. (Oh, sorry, that’s me not you.)
Has having this knowledge helped me dodge Dad Redux since? I don’t know as I’m in full love avoidance mode and not looking for anyone. But I have realized I not only married my dad, every boyfriend besides my first was an iteration of him.
HOWEVER. I intend to pay a lot more attention to all the signals and red flags so I don’t remarry my dad. Because eww on so many levels.
P.S. Therapy works.
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