Dysfunction Junction

Was it in the 1980s that we first heard the term “dysfunctional”?

I always thought my family was normal. I mean, I knew my dad was weird but I thought everyone must have some weirdo in their family. Then I heard the term “dysfunctional” and I thought, “oh those poor families with dysfunctional family members.” -- ! Little did I know then that my family was dysfunctional.

I didn’t know any different. We only know what we know. But, as Donald Rumsfeld said, “there are unknown unknowns.” We have a sense of right and wrong. I knew my dad’s behavior was odd. I knew mom had decided to stay married to him. I felt she did that out of obligation to me and my sister and also from her religion.

It’s only been in the last five years that I’ve heard of “family patterns.” These were “unknown unknowns” to me. I didn’t realize that the poor communication in my household had been instilled in me. One day, my then boyfriend said to me “you zone out when you are disinterested in something. It’s because of the way your dad drones on about his latest obsession. You zoned out then and you zone out now.”

He's right and I'm sure there are other patterns that I've been conditioned to that are just waiting to be discovered, like ignoring abnormal behavior. Like when my husband gets mad and hangs up the phone on me. I used to just let that go. I now see that as not just anger, but a way to control the situation. I acknowledge it now; I understand how it plays into our communication and how communication is the biggest part of a relationship.

The Talk

After concluding the neurological tests to determine dementia, including the driving test, the neurologist concluded that my dad has mild to medium dementia. She prescribed Namenda. So much for something stronger to help with his personality.

Although my dad failed the cognitive assessment driving test, he still wanted to drive. The neurologist told him he'd have to pass an actual in-the-car driving test (called a DORE for Driveable On-Road Evaluation) before she would sign off on clearing him to drive again.

Today he's taking one of those tests. I need to explain to him that he doesn't see well enough or respond fast enough to be safe behind the wheel. I need to have the conversation with him. But I'm on the phone 1500 miles away and he has dementia. These are facts, but also excuses.

I managed to have a moment of insight a couple weeks ago when mom mentioned someone's name on the phone and the light bulb went on in my head and I realized this person would be a good friend to drive my parents around when they needed it. I called him and he said he'd be glad to. He also said my dad is one of the most stubborn people he's ever met. So I told my dad that his friend could drive him if he didn't like the way mom drove. But my dad wants to get behind the wheel.

A Minor Catastrophe

It’s a few weeks later. My dad passed his DORE test, the behind-the-wheel driving test. So, I faxed the doctor asking her to not let my dad drive even though he passed this test since it would have more weight coming from her than if my sister or I asked him not to drive. A few days before the appointment, the doctor’s office called and left me a message saying the doctor would not honor my wishes.

My brother-in-law went with my dad went to the doctor and as they were leaving, the front-desk staff handed some papers to my dad. My brother-in-law thought there might be some details about my dad’s DORE test in the papers and so he looked at them. The top paper was a copy of my fax to the doctor asking her to not let my dad drive. Yes, the confidential letter that I did not want my dad to see was on top. So my brother-in-law took a picture of it and texted it to my sister who sent it to me.

I let the doctor know right away by fax that this had happened. (Faxing, according to her office, is the best way for me to communicate with her from out of state; however, it’s not without risks.) The office manager called me back a couple hours later and apologized saying they didn’t intend for the fax to be given to my dad. It was a clerical error.

“Well,” I said, “let’s hope he doesn’t see it.”

The next day, I called my parents and spoke to my dad and he brought it up. “I can’t believe you and your sister would do this to me.” 

This is how I had “the talk” with my dad.

Maintaining the Yard

It was about five years ago, in 2013, when my dad finally gave in and let someone else cut the grass. He had fallen the year before while cutting it and hurt his back. My parent’s yard is steep and on a corner and has thick zoysia grass. Cutting it is a big job, especially in the Georgia summer heat and humidity.

But an unsuspecting neighborhood teenager came by one day and asked if my dad needed help with the yard and thus began a beautiful relationship. His name is Callie and he is young and strong and doesn’t mind putting up with my controlling, demanding father. My dad would still start the mower and show Callie where to cut first. He stands outside and watches Callie and they discuss when to empty the bag of grass clippings and where to dispose of them. Usually Callie has to leave before finishing, but he always comes back and completes the job even if it takes three days to do so.

Mom likes to prune the roses and other bushes, but now my dad will come outside and tell her to come back in the house. For some reason he doesn’t like her doing it. She likes to tend the vine growing up the mailbox. I’m not sure what’s going on in my dad’s head when mom is outside. Maybe he wants her to be near him. It infuriates me, but I have to just let it go. I chalk it up to dementia.

Smoke alarm

I called at my usual time: 4:00 their time. My father answered.

“Well, we’re just sitting here going over some figures. I put some popcorn in the microwave and it started burning and I opened the door and smoke came out and that set off the smoke alarm. Then First Alert called and wanted to know if there was a fire.”

They assured First Alert that there was no fire and First Alert wanted the password and didn’t like the one my parents gave them. So five minutes later, First Alert was convinced there was no problem and hung up.

My dad said, “Sometimes I can’t remember what I want to say, like when I was at the neurologist office and she asked me who the president was and I couldn’t remember right away. She said ‘is it Romney? Is it Bush? Is it Trump?’ It’s Trump, I said.”

So I asked if they had gotten the photo of me that I’d sent them. “No, not yesterday. We didn’t get the mail today yet.”

Me: ”it’s a picture of me and my friends at the dog show.”

“Oh, yeh, three girls. We got that,” he said, “It’s crazy around here sometimes.”

The Needle in the Hospital

It might have been the time my dad broke his leg and was in the hospital. He noticed the hypodermic needle the nurse used on him and asked her if he could have one to use to build his model train layout.

He has a big model train layout and, over the years, has built lots of buildings, signs, and all it takes to make a tiny town. He probably had trouble getting glue or something in a small place and thought the needle would be the right tool for the job.

Most nurses I’ve met are pretty tough and know how to handle difficult people. I’m surprised she would give in to his request. But he was able to leave the hospital with a hypodermic needle.

Shopping in General

Not sure when it began, but my dad loves to go to Walmart. There is a supercenter about five miles from their house and he used to go about every other day. He enjoys browsing and seeing what’s new. It’s good for him; keeps him current. He doesn’t always buy something, but it’s a good outing for him.

Now that mom is driving all the time I don’t think they go so much and sometimes she just sits in the car and lets my dad go in by himself. He’s left his cane there before. He went to ask about it at the customer service counter and the attendant brought out a whole grocery cart full of canes. It was funny! A lot of people forget their canes.

My dad has bought some non-stick cookware for my sister the last couple of Christmases. I assume he got it at Walmart after seeing a TV commercial. My sister didn’t know what to do with a special “air” fryer for making French fries. I think she burned hers somehow, but my dad had bought one for himself (which he—or Mom—would never use) and he gave it to my sister as a replacement. It makes me wonder about the power of suggestion to his mind.

But speaking of Christmas, I’m reminded of an old disturbing pattern my dad had when I was young. He would always buy mom a white blouse for Christmas. It was so boring and unimaginative and sad for mom. To me it spoke volumes about his lack of concern for her. This went on about ten years. After I left home, he started giving mom jewelry for Christmas. I figured she had a little talk with him.

You never know what you’re going to get for Christmas from him, although there’s a good chance it will be a flashlight. And it will definitely be from Walmart.

OCD vs. OCPD

I researched OCD and found out about OCPD: obsessive compulsive personality disorder. According to beyondocd.org,

“OCPD is a personality disorder, whereas OCD is not…. OCPD involves a preoccupation with orderliness, perfectionism and control in virtually every part of an individual’s life…. Individuals with OCPD like the world the way they shape it. By contrast, people with OCD don’t like what’s happening to them and are overwhelmed by the thoughts and fears that invade their minds.”

When we were little, my sister and I would play in the basement where our father’s workbench was. His workbench had a pegboard behind it where all his tools were hung. He would tell us, “you can play with any of these tools as long as you put it back where you found it.” It made sense and we were careful to replace the tools we played with.

But when you put it together with other things, like the attention to car oil changes, tracking the type of gas bought in order to mix mid-grade and premium gas in the car’s gas tank, grandiose comments in Sunday school, criticizing fellow church-goers, grass cutting, over-reacting to spilling milk at the table, wiping up the floor with a paper towel, etc. a pattern emerges.

Narcissism

I change my behavior around my dad. I think before answering him so that I phrase my reply in a way that won’t offend him or cause anger. I always have, automatically. I subconsciously knew that there was something about him that was different and needed to be dealt with in a special way.

It’s been this way as long as I can remember, and it’s still happening. For example, just this week when I needed to get someone to be an optional driver for my dad/parents and then tell my dad about it, I couldn’t just say “I found someone to take you places when you can’t drive there.” First I had to identify the problem (separate all the problems and focus on one at a time), then find someone, then gently introduce my dad to the idea, then cross my fingers and hope he didn’t stonewall the idea. Now I can blame that on dementia, but it’s always been this way… and I’m 58 years old.

Thinking about this type of behavior one day a few years ago, I decided I’d look for a name for it and started researching terms for specific behaviors of his, like “defensiveness” or “controlling father” or “anger management.” My research turned up behaviors I’d seen in my dad.

“In vulnerable narcissism, individuals show an unusual degree of self-preoccupation, but it’s out of concern that they are not as good as everyone else. They feel as if they are on the precipice of being exposed for their flaws and will be humiliated and shamed when this happens…. Those high on vulnerable narcissism are preoccupied with perfection to avoid criticism, but it is criticism that they fully expect to receive.”

From Psychology Today: https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/fulfillment-any-age/201611/why-do-some-narcissists-need-be-so-perfect

Mr. Perfect

I remember mom calling my dad “Mr. Perfect” a lot when I was growing up. She did it when he’d stay with something until it was done to his specifications. It would be things like cleaning a garden tool, or hanging a picture on the wall, or washing and waxing the car.

“The narcissistic perfectionist (NP) is quick to pounce on the mistakes of others, even minor blunders.”

From: https://www.ctvnews.ca/lifestyle/n-s-research-lays-out-how-to-recognize-narcissistic-perfectionists-1.2870230  (Canadian Press, April 2016)

I also remembered reading an article in the O magazine a while back about narcissistic personality disorder that rang some bells.

From the Mayo Clinic’s website:

Narcissistic personality disorder — one of several types of personality disorders — is a mental condition in which people have an inflated sense of their own importance, a deep need for excessive attention and admiration, troubled relationships, and a lack of empathy for others. But behind this mask of extreme confidence lies a fragile self-esteem that's vulnerable to the slightest criticism.

A narcissistic personality disorder causes problems in many areas of life, such as relationships, work, school or financial affairs. People with narcissistic personality disorder may be generally unhappy and disappointed when they're not given the special favors or admiration they believe they deserve. They may find their relationships unfulfilling, and others may not enjoy being around them.

Symptoms

Signs and symptoms of narcissistic personality disorder and the severity of symptoms vary. People with the disorder can:

·         Have an exaggerated sense of self-importance

·         Have a sense of entitlement and require constant, excessive admiration

·         Expect to be recognized as superior even without achievements that warrant it

·         Monopolize conversations and belittle or look down on people they perceive as inferior

·         Expect special favors and unquestioning compliance with their expectations

·         Take advantage of others to get what they want

·         Have an inability or unwillingness to recognize the needs and feelings of others

·         Be envious of others and believe others envy them

At the same time, people with narcissistic personality disorder have trouble handling anything they perceive as criticism, and they can:

·         Become impatient or angry when they don't receive special treatment

·         Have significant interpersonal problems and easily feel slighted

·         React with rage or contempt and try to belittle the other person to make themselves appear superior

·         Have difficulty regulating emotions and behavior

·         Experience major problems dealing with stress and adapting to change

·         Have secret feelings of insecurity, shame, vulnerability and humiliation

If I’d been able to identify rage, becoming angry when not receiving special treatment, or have known of the concept of regulating emotions instead of just thinking my dad was mean or “weird” and avoiding him, denying the problem, ignoring its existence, I could have seen that he was not normal as we passed him off as being. But abnormal was normalized in my family. If I’d known that his behavior could be typed with a personality disorder  earlier in my life, maybe in my twenties when I was old enough to understand, I could have learned to spot questionable behavior more easily and not accept it. But I grew up afraid of him yet putting on a face of acceptance. I changed my behavior around him.

This is my perspective on my dad. It takes seeing him objectively, finally, to separate the strands of how he has affected me and why. And in doing so, I see the context of his behavior that has now morphed into dementia. It’s like dementia is the icing on a triple-layer personality disorder cake.