So I talked about my trip and how it helped to focus me, helped to give me some direction. I also mentioned that it wasn’t the only thing going on to help motivate me to get my butt in gear, that helped me in the week before the trip to do so much to get my shit together. So here it is.
I am really ready to move out of my parents’ house.
First of all, I want to say up front about how I have mixed feelings about saying any of this, even anonymously, because, well, they’re my folks, and I love them, and you know how they took me in when everything fell apart. My mom drove two days to get me and turned around and we drove two days back two her house when I left X. No questions asked. And I knew she would do it, no questions asked. And they have been absolutely phenomenal about giving me space to get my head together, and giving me free room and board, no time limits imposed. And I really can’t imagine where else I would have felt more comfortable in those early days, though there were other places I could have gone, other people who would have taken me in.
They are really wonderful people who have not dealt with some significant emotional issues from their own childhoods, and the consequences of their not dealing with their own shit has been passed on to me and my sisters. It is also very, very, very, very, very, very hard for me to watch them raise my eleven-year-old niece and see them passing on the same things all over again. It kills me.
*Clarification: There is NOTHING to call child protective services about.*
Part of the reason it kills me is because I am working on my own “significant emotional issues from my childhood,” (currently working through this book) and when I hear them make certain statements (“you shouldn’t feel X!”, for example, or brushing aside legitimate pain that my niece has–like about her absent father) it brings me right back to when I was her age or younger and I was told I shouldn’t feel certain things and my legitimate pain was brushed aside. Now that I am an adult, I can see why they do it. Now that I know more about their own stories, and understand about what their parents did and didn’t do for them, I understand why they function this way in the world. But it still hurts, and it is still very hard to live with, and it is very painful to live with every day.
P.S. I will talk another day about why I don’t say something to them. This is enough for today, I think.