(no subject)
I have been unkind. Unkind to my parents. Wanting them to conform to some preset societal norm that they were never going to, and then in being disappointed when they didn't. I failed to see that the very same things that make me into an independent and capable person are the same things that made them who they are.
I worry too much, I think, about things they never think about. I know how retirement is supposed to work, know how much a good credit rating can help smooth your life. But didn't stop to consider that all these things I place so much stock in aren't the end of the world if you don't. I am 34 years old and headed down the road towards ten more years of school in the hopes that someday I won't dread getting out of bed in the morning to go to work.
Does that make me a rebel? That I refuse to go quietly into whatever future my liberal arts degree has ordained for me, refuse to punch a clock for some cube and make spreadsheets all day? That I dare to dream that my life can be exactly what I want it to be, in the grand scheme of all things? And if it does, then where does this strength come from... this unrelenting commitment and passion that flows from me, this ability to shun societal norms and expectations and seek a different path?
I spent my childhood canoeing, camping, scuba diving, cutting class, listening to my father disparage the institution. My only way to rebel was to become part of the institution, and accept the limitations placed upon me by the things I thought were important. It took a lot of work to get myself into a position where I could both chase my dream and pay my mortgage, but I did it. I go to class and I make notecards and I push people in a hospital on weekends and I murder millions of yeast when my peers are having babies, looking at bigger houses, and taking vacations to the shore.
I suppose in some ways, I'm a rebel just like my parents. Believing that I can make different choices and still make a life worth living. That there is no instruction manual for life, and anyone who tells you there is simply hasn't invested the time to consider the alternative. And furthermore, might be afraid of being different.
I didn't get your typical speeches of major life lessons. Can't recall ever being told, specifically, and without space for consideration, what to do. I remember making mistakes, big ones, that made my life very hard for many years. And I remember being angry with them for allowing me to make them. But here we are. In this space where I'm a bona fide super hero, able to come back from mistakes that would break most people, to deal with situations that are hard, and to know the difference between a problem and an inconvenience.
Things may not always go as planned when I include my parents. Holidays are sometimes a nightmare, because things can always change right down to the last minute. But these difficulties seem similar to ones I might impose, delaying holidays or having them early because one of my many commitments cannot wait. I had to work Christmas Day, so we had Christmas on December 23rd.
Much as I might rally to the opposite, I am not different from them. Sure, my implementation may vary from the paths they have chosen, but the motivation behind those choices comes from the same place. I believe in myself, not some prescribed formula for creating a life. And they didn't teach me those formulas because they recognized them as illusions, instead allowing me to forge my own path, make my own life, discover what mattered most to me.
And I should not fault them for doing the very same thing. I suppose if I want to worry, as is my right, then my worry should only focus on whether or not they enjoy the choices they've made. On whether or not they actually achieved a satisfying and happy life.
It's just hard sometimes, to stand by and not fix it for them. To "practice freedom" as my father is wont to say, and allow them to not only make, but to leave unfixed, these problems they create. The answer in the end is just to love them, and appreciate who they are, instead of being disappointed in who they are not. I may never wander from discount store to discount store with my mother, whiling away an afternoon to coffee and conversation. But my mother will absolutely listen to me go on and on about the excitement of my first cardiac arrest call, without interposing some random, yet normal concern, for the patient whose heart had stopped beating.
In the end, my marriage got better not because it magically became something I'd always dreamed of, but because I finally learned to appreciate it for what it was. I think the same can be said of this relationship with my parents. There are very few have to's and musts in my life, rebel that I am, but I have to stop being upset with them for all these things that might never happen; I have to instead learn to appreciate all the things that do.
I worry too much, I think, about things they never think about. I know how retirement is supposed to work, know how much a good credit rating can help smooth your life. But didn't stop to consider that all these things I place so much stock in aren't the end of the world if you don't. I am 34 years old and headed down the road towards ten more years of school in the hopes that someday I won't dread getting out of bed in the morning to go to work.
Does that make me a rebel? That I refuse to go quietly into whatever future my liberal arts degree has ordained for me, refuse to punch a clock for some cube and make spreadsheets all day? That I dare to dream that my life can be exactly what I want it to be, in the grand scheme of all things? And if it does, then where does this strength come from... this unrelenting commitment and passion that flows from me, this ability to shun societal norms and expectations and seek a different path?
I spent my childhood canoeing, camping, scuba diving, cutting class, listening to my father disparage the institution. My only way to rebel was to become part of the institution, and accept the limitations placed upon me by the things I thought were important. It took a lot of work to get myself into a position where I could both chase my dream and pay my mortgage, but I did it. I go to class and I make notecards and I push people in a hospital on weekends and I murder millions of yeast when my peers are having babies, looking at bigger houses, and taking vacations to the shore.
I suppose in some ways, I'm a rebel just like my parents. Believing that I can make different choices and still make a life worth living. That there is no instruction manual for life, and anyone who tells you there is simply hasn't invested the time to consider the alternative. And furthermore, might be afraid of being different.
I didn't get your typical speeches of major life lessons. Can't recall ever being told, specifically, and without space for consideration, what to do. I remember making mistakes, big ones, that made my life very hard for many years. And I remember being angry with them for allowing me to make them. But here we are. In this space where I'm a bona fide super hero, able to come back from mistakes that would break most people, to deal with situations that are hard, and to know the difference between a problem and an inconvenience.
Things may not always go as planned when I include my parents. Holidays are sometimes a nightmare, because things can always change right down to the last minute. But these difficulties seem similar to ones I might impose, delaying holidays or having them early because one of my many commitments cannot wait. I had to work Christmas Day, so we had Christmas on December 23rd.
Much as I might rally to the opposite, I am not different from them. Sure, my implementation may vary from the paths they have chosen, but the motivation behind those choices comes from the same place. I believe in myself, not some prescribed formula for creating a life. And they didn't teach me those formulas because they recognized them as illusions, instead allowing me to forge my own path, make my own life, discover what mattered most to me.
And I should not fault them for doing the very same thing. I suppose if I want to worry, as is my right, then my worry should only focus on whether or not they enjoy the choices they've made. On whether or not they actually achieved a satisfying and happy life.
It's just hard sometimes, to stand by and not fix it for them. To "practice freedom" as my father is wont to say, and allow them to not only make, but to leave unfixed, these problems they create. The answer in the end is just to love them, and appreciate who they are, instead of being disappointed in who they are not. I may never wander from discount store to discount store with my mother, whiling away an afternoon to coffee and conversation. But my mother will absolutely listen to me go on and on about the excitement of my first cardiac arrest call, without interposing some random, yet normal concern, for the patient whose heart had stopped beating.
In the end, my marriage got better not because it magically became something I'd always dreamed of, but because I finally learned to appreciate it for what it was. I think the same can be said of this relationship with my parents. There are very few have to's and musts in my life, rebel that I am, but I have to stop being upset with them for all these things that might never happen; I have to instead learn to appreciate all the things that do.