ithinkyoushould. Reassess your Understanding of Respect.

My husband’s father does not like me. And, guess what, it’s OK. I should say, I’m OK with it now. But I wasn’t before. I wasn’t OK with it before because I’ve never really had the experience of somebody not liking me for what I perceived to be “no reason.” And from what others, including complete strangers tell me, I’m a sufficiently likeable person. At the same time, I can totally get behind the idea of the “real” reasons why or why not people find a mutual like, since likeability is as random as the idea itself. Also, common psychology dictates that whatever you may or may not dislike about a person is a projection of the things or an idea or concept that you innately dis/like about yourself.

My husband’s father has never “voiced” his dislike of me. We’ve never gotten into any arguments or disagreements, but that’s because we don’t talk. Although in this case, general actions speak way louder than words; his Dislike Energy Field is palpable. I used to say “Good Morning” to him, and through vacant eyes, he would just look past me. We later determined that he may not have heard me due to an alleged hearing problem, but that was proven to not be the case, the evidence being that it was only my “good mornings” that weren’t reciprocated. And let’s be frank, it’s not like I was mumbling the greeting from a great distance, I happened to be standing in his personal space at the time.

At our wedding, he didn’t smile at me, or welcome me, or congratulate me, or hug me, or even look at me. [He might have done this to his son, I don’t know]. Still, I was OK with this because I was busy basking in the warmth and love of other family and friends not to mention our then 2 year old, and our second child who was growing beautifully [at 5 months] inside my tummy. [Yes! The Bride Wore Black and 5” Stilettos!] Did he disapprove? Was he embarrassed? Nobody else was, in fact our growing brood was instantly embraced and welcomed in a reception that I can only describe as magnificently surreal.

Some have suggested that it might be cultural. He’s Asian. I’m not. Age? He’s a disenfranchised Boomer. I’m not. Sexism? He’s traditional insofar as he “thinks” women should have a particular rank and order. Racism? Most if not all fathers of a distinct cultural background might prefer their sons to keep the blood lines “pure.” Beliefs? He’s an atheist, I’m not. And the list goes on.

The point is Today I’ve decided to live my life as if he doesn’t matter. And guess what? He doesn’t. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, or what he cares about, because it’s not up to him to pass judgment on me. It’s not up to him to decide whether I’m worthy of a hello, or a good morning because what somebody thinks or does not think about you should not be given the power to make or break you. Some have asked if I’ve “tried,” and to that question I’ve often retorted with a cynical “try what?” At the same time, I have made an “effort” if that’s what you want to know. And like an ass I’ve even ingratiated myself knowing deep-down that nope, this just doesn’t feel right.

We Women often plunder our brains in desperation trying to link somebody else’s emotional dysfunction to our own, rationalizing that if “I only” do this or that, he will change. But guess what? He never does. And it is unlikely that he ever will [though one can cling to that false hope cuz it makes us feel so good]. And so you continue the cycle of frittering your own self-worth away desperately trying to appease the disagreeable. It’s a losing battle. But if you really wanna win something, if you really want to gain the edge that is necessary for control of your own life, and earn your right to emotional freedom, then I think you should Reassess your Understanding of Respect. What you are and who you are is up to you. Be proud. Nobody can take that away from you.