Good morning Anita,

I hope you have a good start to your weekend.

I read your post and am adding my reply now as a continuation of what I wrote above.

Thank you for taking the time to explain the different forms of empathy and restraint. Reading those definitions gave me language for something I have struggled to understand for a very long time. I can see how my dad can show very different levels of empathy, restraint, and awareness depending on the person, the setting, and the consequences involved. That realization is honestly very sad for me.

I think one of the hardest parts is that people are rarely completely black and white in real life. It would almost be easier emotionally if they were. When someone is your parent, you want to believe they are one of your safe people. You remember the moments when they were caring, loving, funny, supportive, or generous, and those memories coexist with the moments that made you frightened, hurt, or unsafe.

It has taken me a very long time, and I think I am still coming to terms with seeing my dad and our family dynamics for what they actually are rather than what I wish they could be.

I still remember the small moments of care. I remember all of the financial generosity too. And sometimes that generosity feels as though it hangs over my head as an obligation — almost like because someone has done so much financially, I should tolerate things that I otherwise know are not okay. Logically I know generosity does not cancel out harmful behavior, but emotionally it is much harder to separate those things when it is your parent.

I think that is also why, whenever my anxiety flares, my mind immediately starts searching for a way to restore peace. I start wondering whether my husband can somehow help fix things or whether there is something I should do differently. I haven’t asked him about this topic for the last couple of days because I recognize that repeatedly trying to solve it is not helping either of us.

What I am struggling with now is the uncertainty. My mind jumps ahead to future holidays, birthdays and different seasons of our lives and worries that things will remain cold and uncomfortable. I keep wanting to know how this ends, even though I realize there may not be an answer right now.

My husband would still like some kind of conversation eventually. He wants the opportunity to explain his perspective, reflect on what happened and acknowledge where he could have handled things differently, while also making it clear that the verbal abuse and physical intimidation were not okay.

The difficulty is that I know my dad extremely well. I have very little confidence that it would actually become that kind of conversation. I think it would likely become very one-sided, with my dad focusing primarily on what he believes my husband did wrong and expecting an apology without being willing to meaningfully examine his own actions.

My husband has said he can remain civil and be in the same spaces, but if that conversation never happens, he does not feel comfortable initiating conversation or pretending the relationship has simply returned to normal. I understand where he is coming from, even though emotionally it is still very painful for me because they once had a genuinely close relationship.

I also really want to thank you for sharing what you experienced with your mother. Your mother and my father are obviously different people and our experiences are not identical, but something you wrote really stayed with me — the difficulty of holding memories of warmth and love alongside memories of humiliation and fear.

I think there is a particular kind of wound in realizing that someone you instinctively viewed as a safe person was not always safe. And I imagine that is something both of us can understand in our own ways.

Thank you again for sharing so openly with me. Your post gave me a lot to think about.

Nea

Good evening, Anita 🙂

I’m glad to have these conversations as well. I think there is always something we can learn from one another regardless of age or differences in life experience, and I appreciate hearing perspectives that make me think about things differently.

What you said about strategic or selective empathy is interesting. Perhaps my dad isn’t fully capable of the genuine empathy I’m thinking of, and some of it is connected to how he wants to be perceived socially. I’m not sure that’s something I’ll ever fully know.

As for whether that concern about his image would prevent him from physically hurting someone, I’m less certain. Usually someone has intervened when things were escalating, and there have been a few times when the police had to be called. So I don’t really know how far things could have gone otherwise. But I do understand your perspective that his concern for his image may create some restraint.

What is sad is that the people who should matter most—the ones who have been there throughout his life—often don’t receive the same empathy or consideration. Yet I’ve seen him put so much energy into friendships. Many of those friendships eventually end after some conflict or behaviour, and then new ones take their place. Maybe that supports what you’re saying—that something which isn’t entirely genuine can only be maintained for so long.

I even saw something similar with my husband. Their relationship felt very different in the earlier years, but the dynamic changed significantly over time, especially once work became involved.

And what you shared about being emotionally fused with your mother resonates with me. That instinct to immediately think about a parent’s feelings, even when they are the one who caused the hurt, is something I’m becoming much more aware of in myself.

Nea

Good evening, Anita 🙂

Thank you for your thoughtful response and questions.

My dad, especially because of his generation and Indian roots, definitely sees counselling as something he himself would never need. Ironically, throughout our lives, he has often told us that we need counselling. His perspective has generally been that he only explodes when other people escalate or provoke him, rather than recognizing that how he responds is ultimately his responsibility.

Regarding the recent argument, the yelling did not initially come from my husband. It started over an issue with some equipment in the house. My husband was trying to clarify what he meant because my mom wasn’t fully understanding him, and because part of the discussion related to my health, he said that the focus should be on me being pregnant rather than the household issue.

My dad responded along the lines of, “Don’t tell us, we know she’s pregnant,” and then, in a raised and authoritative tone, told my husband that enough was enough and to stop talking. My husband did not stop talking. He became defensive and responded along the lines of, “Who are you to tell me to stop talking?” He felt that my dad couldn’t simply order him to be silent because he was in my dad’s house.

From there, it escalated enormously. My dad began swearing, calling him names, repeatedly emphasizing that it was “his roof,” and eventually physically advancing/charging toward him. My husband continued engaging verbally and absolutely could have walked away sooner. By that point, they were both yelling.

I can recognize that my husband’s response contributed to the verbal escalation. At the same time, I don’t believe responding defiantly to being told to stop talking makes the subsequent name-calling, humiliation, swearing and physical intimidation acceptable.

To answer your other question honestly, yes, my husband has yelled during arguments with me in the past, and so have I. Earlier in our relationship, we both had unhealthy ways of handling conflict. I grew up witnessing extremely volatile arguments, so unfortunately I carried some of those patterns into my own relationship. If I became very escalated and was yelling, my husband could become escalated and yell back as well.

That was actually one of the reasons I began individual counselling—to work through childhood experiences and learn healthier ways of handling conflict. Later, my husband also pursued counselling, both because he wanted to become a better parent and to work through grief and experiences from his own childhood. We have both come a very long way. Our arguments now are very different and have become quite infrequent, especially as we have prepared to become parents.

I think that distinction is important to me. I don’t expect my husband to have reacted perfectly in that situation. I can acknowledge that saying “Who are you to tell me to stop talking?” and continuing to engage was confrontational and that disengaging would have been the healthier choice. But I also don’t want to fall into the familiar pattern of focusing so much on how somebody responded to my dad’s anger that his own behaviour becomes secondary.

As for everyone sitting down and resolving this, unfortunately I have a very difficult time imagining that happening. My dad tends to approach these situations from the position of, “I’ve done a lot for you, so that’s that,” and does not easily acknowledge his own role. My husband, on the other hand, would want acknowledgement that regardless of the disagreement, it never needed to reach the point of physical intimidation or someone charging toward him.

That leaves very little common ground for a genuine conversation.

Thank you again for giving me space to think through all of this.

Nea

Good morning Anita!

Thank you for showing me this perspective. I really appreciate it. I honestly hadn’t viewed it this way before, and a lot of the points you made have made me reconsider what I should actually be focusing on right now.

I’m not even wanting or asking my husband to apologize. I think my anxiety was more focused on something as small as him saying hi and trying to move forward. But even with that, he reminded me of an incident about three years ago during one of our wedding events. They had a minor argument — I wasn’t there, so I don’t know exactly how significant it was, but it was nowhere near what happened this time. He said that afterward he did make the effort to say hi to my dad, and my dad blatantly ignored him in front of everyone, then took the other guys to go play pool and essentially left him standing there. Eventually that situation passed because my dad later approached him and tried to move forward — not necessarily with an apology, but by acting like things were okay again.

I think part of what has kept me stuck this time is hearing everyone around me say that my husband should have disengaged sooner, stopped talking, walked away, etc. And I do understand the value of disengaging when something is escalating. His own counsellor has actually talked through the situation with him, helped him see both perspectives, and encouraged him in the future to try not to yell or continue engaging once things reach that point. We both started individual counselling when we found out we were having a baby because we wanted to work on ourselves and grow as parents, so he isn’t someone who is completely unwilling to reflect on his own behaviour.

But I think I’m realizing that I may need to stop being the person repeatedly reinforcing that point with him. From his perspective, something like this has never happened before, and I think he keeps coming back to, “Why is so much being made of what I did when the thing that started all of this was so disproportionate and unnecessary?” And I can understand why repeatedly hearing what he could have done differently would start to feel like the focus is being shifted onto him.

So I think what I need to hold onto is that two things can be true: disengaging earlier may be a useful strategy for him in future situations, but that doesn’t mean I need to keep asking him to accommodate or manage someone else’s explosive behaviour. He has already reflected on his part with his counsellor. I don’t need to keep revisiting it with him because my anxiety is looking for a way to make sure this never happens again.

Your point about potentially recreating the pattern I learned growing up really resonated with me. I think that’s what I need to be much more conscious of now — especially because my priority needs to be protecting my marriage, preparing for our baby, and not carrying this dynamic into the family we are creating.

I am saying this all now and hoping it stays with me but once my anxiety flares up again I may need to reach out and be reminded by re reading these posts.

Nea

Dear Anita,

Thank you so much. I really appreciate you acknowledging the family dynamic and why this is so difficult for me right now.

What hurts most is that I still want a relationship with my dad, but I’m also carrying a lot of anger because it feels like every stage of my life has been affected by how he handles conflict. Now, during such a vulnerable time, seeing him treat the person I love and rely on this way makes it even harder to accept who he is and what our relationship may need to look like.

I sometimes wonder when a relationship reaches the point where cutting someone off becomes necessary, but I also think distance and stronger boundaries may be enough—especially since my mom and sister are still part of this, and my sister is young.

I also feel my mom, likely unintentionally, places guilt on me to fix things or keep spending time with my dad regardless of how he treats my husband. I understand she’s trying to keep the family together, but I’m too hurt right now to act like everything is fine just to keep the peace.

My husband has been part of my family for seven years and has never reacted like this before, so seeing him pushed to his limit is really painful\. He’s the one keeping me grounded right now\. If my family truly cares about my wellbeing, then respecting him and his importance in my life needs to be part of that\. I don’t expect everyone to get along, but basic respect is necessary.

Nea

Hi Anita,

Thank you for sharing that, especially what you experienced with your mom. I really relate to what you said about fear, compliance, and intimidation. I’ve had similar experiences where, because it was also an intimidating man and there was that physical power dynamic, it was a lot harder to respond in the moment. There were times I couldn’t even fully defend myself or stand up to it at the time, so I really agree with what you’re saying about how intimidation itself can keep people small, even before anything physical actually happens.

I think my biggest dilemma right now is figuring out how to manage this while we’re still living in the same house. What I’m struggling with most is what feels like isolating behaviour toward my husband. If my family wants to sit downstairs together, watch something, or do something as a family, I can’t just leave my husband upstairs alone because my dad has made the environment uncomfortable for him. That feels horrible to me. My husband has actually been willing to be civil and keep the peace, but I also don’t think it’s fair to keep asking him to extend himself when my dad is still being cold and dismissive.

I constantly feel caught in the middle trying to figure out where the line is. He’s still my dad, and coming from an Indian background, family and staying connected are such a huge part of how I was raised. So part of me keeps wondering how much distance is appropriate and when it becomes “too much.” But at the same time, this pattern is becoming too much for me.

My dad has also been horrible to my mom over the years. It’s been about 35 years of her going back and forth between hating the situation, saying she should have left, and then deciding she’ll stay and everything is okay again. At this point, being 30, I find it harder to empathize with some of it because I’ve watched it consume so much of her life and, in a way, even take away parts of her identity as a mom.

And I think that’s part of why I’m so emotional about all of this now. I’m extremely pregnant, about to become a mom myself, and being at your parents’ home during this stage should feel like a blessing and a place of support. Instead I feel like I’m managing tension, moods, and trying to make sure my husband doesn’t feel pushed out. It’s exhausting and honestly really sad.

I think that’s really where I’m at right now — trying to understand how to draw a healthy line without feeling like I’m abandoning my family, while also knowing I can’t keep asking my husband or myself to adapt around the same behaviour. I don’t necessarily want to cut my dad off, but I also don’t want to keep normalizing things just because he’s my dad. I’m trying to figure out what a healthy middle ground actually looks like.

Nea

Hi Anita,

Thank you for explaining that more. I understand what you mean by compliance now — not normal expectations around respect, helping at home, or being considerate, but the need for submission and control for its own sake. I can see how that distinction changes the meaning of the affection you experienced, and I’m sorry you had to come to that realization about your relationship with your mother.

I think that is part of what I’m struggling to make sense of in my own situation too. A few people have said that my husband could have disengaged from the argument sooner, and he understands that now as well. But at the same time, I don’t think it’s fair to reduce everything to what he could have done differently when the situation became so disproportionate to what it actually started over. It was something so small, and I think for me it also felt like the last straw because for the last couple of months I had already been noticing a passive-aggressive attitude from my dad toward my husband.

We are also still living here right now, which makes everything much more complicated. Earlier I had asked my husband if he could at least say hi and be civil for the sake of keeping the peace while we’re here. But then I actually told him not to, because I realized how angry and self-righteous my dad still seems to be about everything. I noticed him making faces at my husband earlier as well, and at that point I thought, what exactly am I asking my husband to do? If he is choosing not to engage because he wants peace, while my dad continues showing hostility, I don’t think it’s fair for me to keep asking my husband to be the one extending himself.

It’s especially strange because we’ll be here with a newborn for some time, although hopefully within the next month or two we can go back to our own place. My dad is fine with me directly, and I still say hi to him out of respect, but emotionally I feel quite done with the situation. It still hurts, though, and my mind keeps going to what this means for the future — family gatherings, celebrations, holidays, and all of those interactions.

I also know I can’t build a future where I simply attend things without my husband to accommodate this dynamic. He is my husband and we are building our own family together. If he is choosing peace and not provoking anything, while my dad continues to ignore him, make faces, or make the situation worse, then that arrangement just isn’t sustainable.

And if you’re comfortable sharing more about your mom and your experience, I would genuinely be open to hearing it. You mentioned that you didn’t want to overwhelm me, but what you’ve shared has actually helped me think through some of what I’m struggling to understand. At the same time, I don’t want you to feel that you have to revisit anything from your past that is painful for you to talk about. Please only share what feels comfortable for you.

Nea