Christmas with the Glass Family
Foreword:This is a story I (unknowingly) re-tell via lj every 2 years or so. It's a situation that obviously still weighs heavy on my heart, and reminds me of who I am today. As I saddled up to relive this moment again and got that fire in my belly just like it was Christmas of '02 all over again, I realized that I need to do something with it. This is hopefully my final retelling here. I've decided that I want to turn this into a short story and hopefully that will help me to move past it. I won't have to re-tell it here because every word and feeling that I wanted to express that day will be said. I'll exaggerate where I need to exaggerate and take out what I don't feel like hearing anymore. I'll change this story into my baby rather than my heartache. I can finally forgive my aunt and turn that sour moment in history with my family into my triumph as the woman I am today.
In high school I wanted to be a psychologist. I liked listening to my friends problems, I heard they made a lot of money, so why not. I told my Aunt D that I wanted this and she was a little disappointed since it meant I didn't want to be a lawyer anymore, but she was happy that I was still in a reputable field that would make a lot of money. 3 years later, when I actually started college, I took intro to psych and discovered that psychology bored me shitless. I switched schools and majors to english/education, because the written word is my first love. My aunt was livid. Called me out at Christmas in front of everybody and told me not to ask her for "one red cent" to further my education since I just threw it away.
Let me tell you about Aunt D. She's my father's brother's second wife. Born, raised and living in Chicago, she's totally a rags to riches story, though she doesn't remember the rags part so well most times. She and my uncle's marriage was more like a company merger. They had class and money and though my family could never afford to visit them, we were always invited. When I was being kicked out of Roger Williams, I needed a cosigner for my loan. My parents couldn't because they were only in the 6th year after Bankruptcy and their credit hadn't cleaned up yet. I called everyone I knew who could possibly help. Last on that list were my aunt and uncle. They were in dire straits themselves and couldn't help, and I understood. I knew that if they had it, they would give it, especially knowing that they were funding my education. This was the first and last time that I've ever asked them for money.
So when I was being berated for not taking the path that my Aunt preferred for me and being financially cut off at a tap that I had never even known was open, it was a shock. It angered me that she saw me as a gold-digging niece that even needed her help. It angered me so much that I took control of every financial aspect of my life that I could. I got a credit card as a safety net so I'd never have to wind up asking her for groceries. I got a second job that I didn't have time for so I'd never have to ask her for a new sweater. I worked my ass off in undergrad. Having that woman say those words told me exactly what I needed to hear: "I can do bad all by myself."
And I guarantee you, my aunt wasn't saying this as reverse after school special tactic. It's not like on my graduation day she was planning on saying, "you did it! you made it on your own and I've never been more proud! you've passed my test!" No, Aunt D never fails to remind me that she wishes I was a lawyer. She thinks my path is a lazy one. An easy one that I'm wasting my potential on.
My mother isn't much more supportive of my writing. To be honest, I haven't let her read anything I've seriously written since middle school. She thinks of it as a hobby and I know when I say things like, "I wish I could make a real living creative writing," she kind of chuckles, pushes it off to the side and reminds me that I make a good living in the Mayor's Office. I know this is what a mother is supposed to do, but it also has to do with the fact that my mother had a plan for me. I was supposed to be making 100k by now, or at least on the road to that. When I entertain ideas of writing for a living, it doesn't fall into that plan. I know she pictures me struggling and eating beans out of a can.
When I first moved out "on my own" (with 2 roommates) she was fine with me talking about it. But two days before the moving truck came, she begged me to go back to school. She wanted me to finish college and then so many doors would be open to me that I could go anywhere I wanted. On some level I agreed, but I know many people who went to school AND lived on their own. It wasn't impossible, and I even did it, but she still wasn't happy. I came back home briefly over the summer before truly moving on my own. Once again, right before the moving truck came, she asked me to stay home. To continue school and live with them rent free until I could buy a home. The economy was getting bad and she said if I fell, she and my dad didn't have the resources to catch me right now. That's a whole different thing than "I don't like the choices you're making so don't ask me for shit." It's much more supportive, but nervous. Once again, I agreed, but this was something I had to do. And if I fell, I'd have to pull myself out of this on my own as I'd become accustomed to doing.
I'm 25 years old and I think I do a good job at being independent. Though many of my bills were still in my parents name even 2 years ago, I've been paying them for about 5 years. It's a struggle sometimes, but I decided a long time ago that I can't put my dreams on hold because my life is in someone else's name. I know my mom didn't think she would raise a lesbian writer who doesn't want children, but this is me. And I can't keep trying to change the course of my life for fear of upsetting her. if it is a mistake that bites me in the ass and has me living in a box, then I learned my lesson, and I'll come crawling back to her house, listening to the "I Told You So" chorus.
But I still won't ask Aunt D for a damn dime.
In high school I wanted to be a psychologist. I liked listening to my friends problems, I heard they made a lot of money, so why not. I told my Aunt D that I wanted this and she was a little disappointed since it meant I didn't want to be a lawyer anymore, but she was happy that I was still in a reputable field that would make a lot of money. 3 years later, when I actually started college, I took intro to psych and discovered that psychology bored me shitless. I switched schools and majors to english/education, because the written word is my first love. My aunt was livid. Called me out at Christmas in front of everybody and told me not to ask her for "one red cent" to further my education since I just threw it away.
Let me tell you about Aunt D. She's my father's brother's second wife. Born, raised and living in Chicago, she's totally a rags to riches story, though she doesn't remember the rags part so well most times. She and my uncle's marriage was more like a company merger. They had class and money and though my family could never afford to visit them, we were always invited. When I was being kicked out of Roger Williams, I needed a cosigner for my loan. My parents couldn't because they were only in the 6th year after Bankruptcy and their credit hadn't cleaned up yet. I called everyone I knew who could possibly help. Last on that list were my aunt and uncle. They were in dire straits themselves and couldn't help, and I understood. I knew that if they had it, they would give it, especially knowing that they were funding my education. This was the first and last time that I've ever asked them for money.
So when I was being berated for not taking the path that my Aunt preferred for me and being financially cut off at a tap that I had never even known was open, it was a shock. It angered me that she saw me as a gold-digging niece that even needed her help. It angered me so much that I took control of every financial aspect of my life that I could. I got a credit card as a safety net so I'd never have to wind up asking her for groceries. I got a second job that I didn't have time for so I'd never have to ask her for a new sweater. I worked my ass off in undergrad. Having that woman say those words told me exactly what I needed to hear: "I can do bad all by myself."
And I guarantee you, my aunt wasn't saying this as reverse after school special tactic. It's not like on my graduation day she was planning on saying, "you did it! you made it on your own and I've never been more proud! you've passed my test!" No, Aunt D never fails to remind me that she wishes I was a lawyer. She thinks my path is a lazy one. An easy one that I'm wasting my potential on.
My mother isn't much more supportive of my writing. To be honest, I haven't let her read anything I've seriously written since middle school. She thinks of it as a hobby and I know when I say things like, "I wish I could make a real living creative writing," she kind of chuckles, pushes it off to the side and reminds me that I make a good living in the Mayor's Office. I know this is what a mother is supposed to do, but it also has to do with the fact that my mother had a plan for me. I was supposed to be making 100k by now, or at least on the road to that. When I entertain ideas of writing for a living, it doesn't fall into that plan. I know she pictures me struggling and eating beans out of a can.
When I first moved out "on my own" (with 2 roommates) she was fine with me talking about it. But two days before the moving truck came, she begged me to go back to school. She wanted me to finish college and then so many doors would be open to me that I could go anywhere I wanted. On some level I agreed, but I know many people who went to school AND lived on their own. It wasn't impossible, and I even did it, but she still wasn't happy. I came back home briefly over the summer before truly moving on my own. Once again, right before the moving truck came, she asked me to stay home. To continue school and live with them rent free until I could buy a home. The economy was getting bad and she said if I fell, she and my dad didn't have the resources to catch me right now. That's a whole different thing than "I don't like the choices you're making so don't ask me for shit." It's much more supportive, but nervous. Once again, I agreed, but this was something I had to do. And if I fell, I'd have to pull myself out of this on my own as I'd become accustomed to doing.
I'm 25 years old and I think I do a good job at being independent. Though many of my bills were still in my parents name even 2 years ago, I've been paying them for about 5 years. It's a struggle sometimes, but I decided a long time ago that I can't put my dreams on hold because my life is in someone else's name. I know my mom didn't think she would raise a lesbian writer who doesn't want children, but this is me. And I can't keep trying to change the course of my life for fear of upsetting her. if it is a mistake that bites me in the ass and has me living in a box, then I learned my lesson, and I'll come crawling back to her house, listening to the "I Told You So" chorus.
But I still won't ask Aunt D for a damn dime.