I'm OK, You're My Parents: How to Overcome Guilt, Let Go of Anger, and Create a Relationship That Works

By Dale Atkins and Nancy Hass

A guilt-free guide for adults seeking more satisfying relationships with their parents

In a recent study, half of all Americans rated their relationship with at least one parent as either "poor" or "terrible," and more than a third felt this way about both parents. As life expectancy continues to rise and the parent-child relationship extends further into adulthood, this problem is becoming more prevalent than ever. Now, psychologist Dale Atkins presents a step-by-step plan for adults trying to come to terms with parents who are only human--before it is too late.

In I'm OK, You're My Parents, Atkins applies the same intelligent, no-nonsense approach that's made her a frequent guest on top-rated TV shows. She urges a restructuring of the relationships between adults and their aging parents and gives practical, specific advice on how to exorcise the demons of anger and resentment, untangle financial arrangements that cause stress and feelings of powerlessness, set limits on your parents' demands for time and attention, turn a spouse or friends into a powerful resource, overcome your own resistance to change, and discover the redemptive power of humor.

This book draws on Atkins' twenty-five years of experience as a relationship expert to present a comprehensive guide to repairing difficult relationships, gaining control, and building a life that you and your parents can live with for years to come.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Nov 12, 2013
• ISBN: 9781466856820

Dale Atkins

Dale Atkins, Ph.D., is a licensed psychologist and media commentator who appears regularly on the Today Show. The author of five books, she has contributed to such national magazines as Ladies’ Home Journal, Cosmopolitan, and Parents. She lives in Westport, Connecticut.

Book preview

PART I

PAST, TENSE

You’re born, you deconstruct your childhood, and then you die.

Chapter 1

Making Sure Your Past Doesn’t Last

Maybe it won’t be so bad, Zach* thought. Maybe I can stick him in my office for the week and do my writing in the bedroom. When he starts driving me crazy I can just go for a long walk. Or pop a Xanax.…

Damn. It will be bad. Maybe I should stay with Ben for the week. His place is small, but I could put an air mattress in his dining area. Or Kara. She’s got a spare room. No, that’s crazy—she’s still mad at me.… Oh, geez, I forgot about dinner Friday night with Leona and Karl! What if he wants to come along, like he always does? God, why does he do this to me?

Hey, what am I talking about? Geez, I’m such a lousy son. My dad really doesn’t ask for very much. Why can’t I just hold my nose and smile when he comes to stay with me?

*   *   *

You go through this every time, Kara said with an exasperated tone when Zach, a thirty-four-year-old writer, called her for advice on how to handle the chilling news that his divorced father was planning yet another trip to town and wanted to stay with Zach in his small apartment. Why don’t you just tell him to get a hotel room? Kara said. Would you let anyone else push you around like that?

Ben wasn’t particularly sympathetic either. Just suck it up, pal. Let him bunk in your office, ‘yes’ him to death, and tune him out. It’ll be over in a week. What’s the big deal?

Both alternatives put Zach in a cold sweat. His father, Ed, had always been a sweet, depressed, needy guy, which had bugged Zach throughout his childhood and made him feel more like the parent than the kid. But things got out of hand after Zach’s frosty, get-up-and-go mother got up and left Ed for a wealthy entrepreneur a couple of years ago. Now his father wanted to pal around with Zach all the time—and without fail, he’d get drunk and weepy, telling Zach that his broken heart would never mend.

Every time his father stayed with him, Zach flashed back to when he was twelve and realized that his mother was cheating on his dad. He still cringes at the memory of his father weeping on the basement steps, and even today, twenty-two years later, anger toward his mother swells up. That’s probably why Zach just can’t bring himself to tell his dad to back off. On the other hand, Zach thinks, why should he have to tell his father to back off? Can’t the old man see that his son is having problems, too, struggling to make it as a writer, struggling to maintain a decent romantic relationship himself?

Why is it so hard to say no to him? Zach asked me the day before his father arrived. (Zach had decided, with trepidation, to give his dad the bedroom and sleep on an air mattress in his cramped office.) Why couldn’t he be more like Kara, who had simply cut her demanding mother out of her life, or like Ben, who didn’t seem to give a second thought to his folks, a nice, wealthy couple who sent him monthly checks and demanded only a visit at Christmas?

Is it because I had a crazy childhood? Zach said. Kara says I’m so conflicted because my parents abused me. Is that why I can’t say no, and yet when I say yes I wind up wanting to punch him? Am I feeling this way because I’m burying what happened when I was a kid—or because I’m dwelling on it too much?

*   *   *

It’s a question I hear over and over: How important is the past? Should I blame? Forgive? Repress? Scream and yell? Just get over it?

Compounding the confusion are all the conflicting messages out there: an endless loop of afternoon talk shows with victims of family trauma regaling viewers with horror stories, religious leaders preaching forgiveness, therapists urging us to dredge up long-buried pain, motivational speakers hectoring us to stop whining and start winning.

Our relationship with our parents is the original relationship of our lives, the template for all other connections. It plays itself out in our romances, in our friendships, and in the way we deal with our own children. It’s the cradle in which our concept of intimacy was born—the need for approval, the nagging sense that we’re being either smothered or rejected, the fear that we are, at some basic level, not really loved … or clutched too tightly to breathe. No wonder it’s so hard to figure out how much weight to give the past when we’re trying to figure out how to deal with our parents

Reviews for I'm OK, You're My Parents

[sluce_6 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

About her sister who weighted over 300 pounds and had gastic bypass surgery. Good read.