Day 03 - Your Parents
Day 03 - Your Parents from this meme (from finding-helena).
The hard thing about prompts like this is writing what I haven't written before. This will also, invariably, turn into a post about my relationship with my parents.
Maybe this is the key point: I get along with my parents.
Things have not always been perfect - mostly because they want to influence my behavior and, while they sometimes try to minimize it, the method of choice is either reason or guilt. Both sometimes work, although guilt tends to make me passive aggressive and resentful.
Often their advice has been good - maybe it would have been good to go to cheaper schools, to get into fitness earlier, to have a better diet, to write more, to stress less, etc. Like most kids, though, I just have the urge to make my own mistakes.
Sometimes, of course, they drive me nuts.
With my mother, a small example might be her urge to use up old fruit. It sounds tiny, but the horrid "smoothies" that resulted probably inflicted great damage on my relationship with food. Even more damage was probably done by her invisible, entrenched and irrational value that food that taste good must be bad for you while the food that taste bad must be good for you. Oye vey.
With my father, it is the way he doesn't argue. His guilt trips may often be delivered with a soft touch, but can still be below the belt. Often without explicitly saying so (although it is worse when he does), he can project I'm disappointed in you; you know better than this. The tone isn't reproachful, it is sad. Many of the things that are wonderful about him, like his faith in our abilities, can carry a lot of obligations.
So while there are things I don't like about my parents, most of them are small.
Most of the time we get along wonderfully.
It helps, I think, that we share interests. A while back, when my father visited, I took him to hang out with my political group. He fit right in and it was easy because I would gladly hang out with him and talk politics. Or movies. When my mother visited a few months later, I took her to meet my writing group, and she had a good time, and like with my father, it is because I am happy to hang out with her and talk writing.
But the big, critical thing is this: since I've been young, by and large, they've treated me as a person and not an extension. I've always known not just that they love me as a child (and thus support me vigilantly) but also that they like me. I've felt respected even when they thing I am wrong (sometimes that makes it worse - see above). Moreover, they treat me as if I've earned that support and respect. Even as a kid, they listened to my points, considered my arguments, and urged me to actively participate in my own life.
So it’s like every other good relationship: sure, there is some bad, but there is quite a lot more good.
The hard thing about prompts like this is writing what I haven't written before. This will also, invariably, turn into a post about my relationship with my parents.
Maybe this is the key point: I get along with my parents.
Things have not always been perfect - mostly because they want to influence my behavior and, while they sometimes try to minimize it, the method of choice is either reason or guilt. Both sometimes work, although guilt tends to make me passive aggressive and resentful.
Often their advice has been good - maybe it would have been good to go to cheaper schools, to get into fitness earlier, to have a better diet, to write more, to stress less, etc. Like most kids, though, I just have the urge to make my own mistakes.
Sometimes, of course, they drive me nuts.
With my mother, a small example might be her urge to use up old fruit. It sounds tiny, but the horrid "smoothies" that resulted probably inflicted great damage on my relationship with food. Even more damage was probably done by her invisible, entrenched and irrational value that food that taste good must be bad for you while the food that taste bad must be good for you. Oye vey.
With my father, it is the way he doesn't argue. His guilt trips may often be delivered with a soft touch, but can still be below the belt. Often without explicitly saying so (although it is worse when he does), he can project I'm disappointed in you; you know better than this. The tone isn't reproachful, it is sad. Many of the things that are wonderful about him, like his faith in our abilities, can carry a lot of obligations.
So while there are things I don't like about my parents, most of them are small.
Most of the time we get along wonderfully.
It helps, I think, that we share interests. A while back, when my father visited, I took him to hang out with my political group. He fit right in and it was easy because I would gladly hang out with him and talk politics. Or movies. When my mother visited a few months later, I took her to meet my writing group, and she had a good time, and like with my father, it is because I am happy to hang out with her and talk writing.
But the big, critical thing is this: since I've been young, by and large, they've treated me as a person and not an extension. I've always known not just that they love me as a child (and thus support me vigilantly) but also that they like me. I've felt respected even when they thing I am wrong (sometimes that makes it worse - see above). Moreover, they treat me as if I've earned that support and respect. Even as a kid, they listened to my points, considered my arguments, and urged me to actively participate in my own life.
So it’s like every other good relationship: sure, there is some bad, but there is quite a lot more good.