There's an interesting little dynamic I recently noticed amongst the siblings in my family which gave me pause for introspection.

Lack of communication and a fear of confrontation.

Recently, I went to my oldest sister for some help in my recent problems. Did I call her and talk this out? Something this serious and intimate you would think could only be done on a one on one basis.

No, I faxed her a letter.

Call it passive-aggressive, call it avoidance, call it be chicken-shit if you want; but it ain't just me.

A year or so before my gastric bypass surgery, when I was still topping the scales at over 500 pounds, two of my sisters came to visit me. Everything seemed okay until about a month afterwards when I got a letter from them saying how concerned and worried they were over my health condition. Again, something so serious and intimate you would think could only be done on a one on one basis.

I can only speak for myself. I was 5 or 6 when my father had his strokes; two of them over about 18 months. While there was no physical or neuroligical damage there was a change in his personality. After his illness I was always told, "You can't do or say anything to upset Daddy" or "You can't bother Daddy". A genial man of good temper was turned into someone with a short fuse who would get upset at the slightest thing and emotion outbursts of your own would feed into his. I was trained to keep emotions in and, really in essence, not deal with them.

A perfect example is when I was around 9 my bedroom was on the first floor of our house and my parents' room was upstairs. I had some health issues due to my asthma and to make sure they could know immediaetly if there was a problem my father installed an intercom. I woke up sick one night long after we had all gone to bed and had to call out for my parents. However, I had been so conditioned only to bother my father when it was completly necessary that I first laid there getting sicker and sicker; not wanting to cry out for help because it would be "bothering Daddy". Then when I finally got up the nerve to call out towards the intercom I did it in steps of volume; first mouthing the words with no sound at all, then a whisper, a little louder, and a little louder building, finally to a cry for help.

So, I have never wanted to bother anyone. Because I was taught to avoid confrontations with my father I never learned how to argue like any normal person would. (My ex-wives might disagree with that one).

An odd offshoot to this is now when I am in a stressful or highly charged emotional situation I cannot bottle my emotions. When in a confrontational or emotional moment I cry way too easily. On the rare occasions when I do lose my tempter it can be a volcano exploding.

I don't know why my sisters, who are older than me and knew our father before his strokes, react the same way. Maybe now that I can finally see the history in my own life and identify it as some sort of a family trait that I might be able to find a way around the emotion potholes.

Phew.....that was cathartic. Excuse me while I go have a good cry.
Du'oh! Guess I still have some work to do!