You certainly don't choose your family

We are travelling tomorrow to stay with my in-laws for a few days. This used to be a reasonably ok thing to do. They are good with the kids, hubby is happy, I don't have to cook - what's not to like, right? Well, there is always a caveat. In this case it is that the last time I sat down with my MIL and had a conversation she confided in me that she hadn't had sex with the FIL for 18 years, and had been having an affair her entire married life (yes, even on her wedding day - classy or what). Not surprisingly our relationship - at least from my point of view - has suffered slightly. I can't actually bear to be alone with her any more.

I do wonder what the hell she was thinking when she told me all this. What was she actually expecting me to do with the information? Tell my husband? Doesn't she have anyone else she could talk to about it?

At the time I just felt desparately sorry for her being stuck in a difficult marriage, but fairly soon I got angry. And also slightly despairing - here was a relationship I thought was alright, but it is actually a hollow shell. How depressing. Which I guess brings me to my point: this incredibly poorly thought through and selfish act on her part contributed to my illness. I don't think I can forgive her for that.

And now I have to go and make nice with the family or my husband will wonder why I am being mean to his mum. Given that he regards infidelity as the ultimate in unforgivable sins I don't think I will be telling him about this any time soon. Why the hell should I be the keeper of her secrets? I have enough trouble with my own.

Wait and see

I went to the pshrink last week and, after a very amusing conversation where he tried several different methods of referring to my fathers before settling on first names (makes sense really), we discussed medication. I have been wanting to reduce my depakote for a while (I don't like the way my hands shake and my hair falls out - petty I know) but have been afraid to. Before I went on the stuff I had a brief (and yet wonderful at the time) episode of hypomania, followed by the mother of all breakdowns. You know that you are ill if your mother moves in with you and DOESN'T GET ON YOUR NERVES. I was too unwell to even watch telly - serious business. Needless to say I am slightly worried about a repeat performance.

A week into the lowered dose and I was feeling a little like I had eaten five krispy kremes and drunk a triple shot latte. Twitchy to say the least. I didn't mention it to the husband because I knew he would panic - not so good in a crisis. Fortunately that seems to have faded a little, and I am feeling a bit less antsy. Time will tell if I become the crazy nyphomaniac that I was last time, but I'm guessing hubby won't mind too much if I do. At least, not straight away.

Confusion

The thing that has been worrying me (well, bothering me really) since the meeting is the difference in our feelings for one another. He feels fondly towards me, having known me since I was a baby, and - more to the point - having suspected I was his child. It is easy for him to show affection - hold my hand, hug, kiss.

The emotions I have for him are so much more complicated. They are laced with a heavy dose of 'but you are the man who was inappropriately shagging my mother', as well as 'what the hell were you doing at my house all the time, when my own dad wasn't even there?'. It isn't so easy to transform these into positives, as much as he might wish it; hell, as much as I might wish it. It would be lovely to have a father that was warm and demonstrative - goodness knows the other one isn't. The problem is that I think it is just a little bit too late for all that. Like 35 years too late.

And when I met him...

He was looking back at me with a blue version of my eyes, telling me he was so glad to know he had such a wonderful daughter of whom he can be proud. He is the same man that I remember from my childhood, but this time he is my father. A father who is affectionate and warm. A father like I have never had.

There were some tears. There was much confessing. There were some bombshells (she did it on purpose - wanting his baby). Most of all there was the strangeness of it all, and the wondering of where we go from here.

There is no immediate answer to that question. He doesn't want to upset his wife any more than he already has, although she has always known about the affair. I am way past the age where I would do stuff with my dad. It would be a shame to lose touch with each other, but then again it is difficult to see how we could maintain contact without hurting people around us. A bit of a minefield to say the least.

I am sure that if it wasn't for the drugs I wouldn't have been able to get through this. There is a certain levelling of emotion that comes with them; a muffling really. The feelings are there, but they are so much more manageable. Perhaps there will come a day when I collapse in a heap and can't stop crying with the delayed shock of it all, but not right now. I am grateful for that.