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Dad Next Door: The Monster in the Basement

Shame grows stronger the more we pretend it isnā€™t there

Do you ever wonder why parents and their children are so good at pushing each otherā€™s buttons? When I was a teenager, my mom used to say things that would seem perfectly innocuous to an objective bystander, but irritated the hell out of me. Of course, I assumed that was because she was just so annoying . . . until I had a teenager of my own. Suddenly it was me who was pushing my daughterā€™s buttons, and you can be sure she was just as good at pushing mine.Ā 

Looking back, itā€™s obvious that none of this was intentional. Neither of us had any interest in irritating or hurting the otherā€”in fact, we were actively trying to avoid it. But this only made our exquisitely accurate button-pushing that much more confusing. One day, after weā€™d spent an interminable car ride poking at each otherā€™s sore spots, I blurted out that I didnā€™t want us to do this to each other anymore.Ā  She looked at me with genuine surprise, and for a moment I thought Iā€™d broken through.Ā  Then she shrugged and said: ā€œYouā€™re my fatherā€”this is how itā€™s supposed to be.ā€

I used to think that my mother and my teenage daughter had little in common. Eventually, though, I decided I was annoyed at both of them for the exact same reason. It was that way they had of stating a dubious andĀ  unsupported opinion with utter confidence, then defending it with complete certainty. But it took me years to realize the reason I found that behavior so irritating in them is that I found it even more irritating in myself. I had deluded myself into thinking I was the apple who had rolledĀ  away from the treeā€”but there I was, sitting right in its shadow.

If your kid (or for that matter your parent) is really getting under your skin, hereā€™s a thought experiment for you. Think of some tendency orĀ  part of your personality that youā€™re not proud of. Maybe itā€™s some flaw thatā€™sĀ  been a part of you for a long, long time. Perhaps you were criticized for it when you were a kid. Or maybe itā€™s a defense mechanism that comes out reflexively, whenever youā€™re feeling scared or insecure. In any case, you know itā€™s not the best version of you, and youā€™ve wished more than once that it wasnā€™t there. As a matter of fact, most of the time you pretend that it isnā€™t there. You convince yourself that youā€™ve overcome it, or that itā€™s not so bad, or that youā€™ve managed to keep it under wraps. Then, in a moment of stress or anxiety, it suddenly grabs your emotional steering wheel and swerves you into a ditch, and youā€™re left feeling embarrassed and ashamed.Ā 

Now, think of times when youā€™ve seen that same trait or behavior in someone else. How did you react? How did it feel to confront the thing you like the least about yourself in someone else? The odds are pretty good that your emotional gatekeeper quickly rerouted your shame and self-contempt onto that other person. Did you react more strongly than you should have? Did you end up red in the face or hot under the collar? Did it exposeĀ  a big fat button that wasĀ  just waiting to be pushed?

This could happen with anyone. It could be a store clerk or someone at the DMV. But with our familiesā€”the people who share our genes, our history and our daily livesā€”the chances that weā€™ll also share some unflattering traits is much greater. The stakes are higher, too. It doesnā€™t take much for the hidden shame we feel about ourselves to transform into a hidden shame that we feel about our kids. If they sense that shame, and they almost always will, theyā€™ll internalize it. Then theyā€™ll pass it on to your grandchildren. Itā€™s the unwanted gift that keeps on giving.Ā 

Shame is a monster that we keep in the basement. We try to forget it, but it lurks in the shadows, licking its wounds and skulking around at the bottom of the stairs. It feeds on darkness, and grows stronger the more we pretend that it isnā€™t there. Even as we deny its existence, we live in fear of what it might do. Until we acknowledge it and force it out into the sunlight, weā€™ll keep seeing its image in the people we love, and keep coming after them with pitchforks and knives.

Jeff Lee annoys his daughter a little less every year, in Seattle WA

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About the Author

Jeff Lee, MD

Jeff Lee, a family physician, lives, works and writes in Seattle.