Found by Tatum O'neal Page A

longed for? Did he even want that role? Was it just another role? Was the problem the TV show, or was it us? Which was damaging the other? Which mattered more? It was tough to separate the two. In a way, I wanted the cameras to bear witness to our behavior. I wanted a connection with Ryan. I wasn’t ready to let go of any of my goals. But there was nothing I could do now. It appeared to be over. I wasn’t ready to contact Ryan, and all was silent from his end.
    In the past, a situation like this—my father and son fighting, my father and I not talking, the show we’d worked on close to collapse—would have given me a reason to check out. I didn’t like feeling helpless. I didn’t like waiting for people to come through for me. Being able to trust—it’s a work in progress.
    But now I had an army of support. I went to meetings frequently and regularly. People would notice if I missed them. My sponsor, Patty, is my fortress of strength. She has the empathy of a saint, and the insight to pinpoint what kind of support I need and when I need it. She is a constant in my life.
    Although Patty’s sobriety is natural for her now, after twenty-five years, she sometimes has her own issues—the problems that arise in a sober life—that we talk about. She had a breakup that we went through together. Her stepfather had recently died. While she had stayed with him in the hospice, the tables had been turned, and I was grateful for the opportunity to be there for her. I listened to her and what she was going through. I loved to remind her how good she is to people, how she is a strong influence with real purpose in the world. I didn’t need to talk about myself all the time. Sure, I was fighting a bit with Ryan, but I was okay. Above all, I never stopped appreciating the commitment Patty had made to me. Despite her full-time job, she always found time for me. I relished any chance to pay her back.
    I was driving home from a meeting when I told Patty about the fight on Sean’s birthday. I was frustrated at the situation. I couldn’t bear not knowing what would happen with the show. I said, “I don’t like the way it is. I don’t want it to be like this. I want life to be different. I don’t want to always be fighting.”
    Patty said, “Take a deep breath and know that you are supposed to be here. Go home and pray for your dad.”
    I said, “I don’t want to fucking pray. I’m trying to do everything right.” I hung up the phone.
    As soon as I hung up, I regretted it. I was still upset, but at the same time I was terrified at how Patty might respond. What if she was angry, what if she stopped speaking to me, what if I lost her? I called her back right away—five seconds after I hung up. “I apologize,” I said. “I was being petulant and difficult and a total brat.”
    She said, “It’s fine, Little T.” That’s what she calls me—her Little T. I knew we were cool.
    Patty and I talked through the fight, and, with her help, I saw that my reaction had been overblown for the circumstances. I thought my anger was noble: I wouldn’t let Ryan mistreat my son. But the more Patty and I talked about what had happened, the more ambiguous it seemed. I didn’t understand kicking a kid out of a car and I’d gone into Mama Bear mode to protect my son. I lashed out defensively. On the other hand, come to think of it, I had once on a trip to Montauk pulled the car over to the side of the road and told then-sixteen-year-old Sean to get out and walk. I guess grandpas can get mad, too. (Of course, I picked Sean up after he’d walked a little bit. That’s where my father and I differ.) I’d said hurtful things to Ryan without ever giving him a chance to say his piece. I told him I hated him. Why would he want to do a TV show with me if I really hated him? I regretted saying that to Ryan. I had lost