Families

What is it with family?  I've come to the conclusion that one is entitled to be even more upset when a family member treats that person worse than a stranger would have, because the relation should know better and should be held to a higher standard.

My own family is a piece of work.  Our Mother, whom I adored, was the glue that held the family together.  She died sadly some sixteen years ago, and things haven't been the same since.

The siblings have written me off.  The accuse me -- among other things -- of being pedantic, conceited, hard to live with, in need of the spotlight, unable to hold a job -- in short, just about everything short of being the second shooter in the Kennedy assasination and the cause of global warming.  Nevermind that I have lent them money without any hesitation, moved them, done free work for them, advised them on career goals, helped them get into schools, supported them through their various domestic strifes, been godfather to their children...yep, I'm Evil Incarnate.

The remaining parent has always hated me, despite his protestations to the contrary.  Throwing a young son into a wall, rousting him out of bed for the felony of not having worn a T-shirt to school and kicking him down a flight of stairs while he's carrying a fully-loaded clothes basket would seem to contradict his assertions.  Add to that his emotional and psycholological abuses and he's a psychiatrist's wet dream.  It says all that one needs to know that after being sent to a shrink by grade school teachers for my putative difficulty getting along with my peers, it was determined that Himself was the one that had the problem, not me.  If you're betting that he never attended another therapy session after that, you'd be right.

When I would come home from college, the first thing I'd do the next morning would be to talk with Mom about how I was to behave while I was home, since I was the source of all the family's problems according to him.  Later, over the last nine years of our Mother's life, including the time that she was dying from lung cancer, I didn't go home when he was around lest I stir up anger unnecessarily.

Why does this come out today?  My girl is suffering from similar distancing from her family, although by no means as trenchant as the one I have from mine.  It pains me to see her immediate family at best indiffernt, at worst judgmental, about her lifestyle.

It is often said that you can choose your friends but you can't chose your family, and that may well be true.  But what is often left unsaid is that you can chose not to interact with your family.  So much responsibility is thrust on us that no matter what, family is family.  That's hogwash.  Family that treats you like used newspaper is no more deserving of good treatment than a stranger who treats you similarly.  The biological roulette that cast me into the same family with other people does not mean that I must be their target without provocation, that I must suffer their slings and arrows without recourse.  It doesn't mean that I have to return kind for kind, but I also don't have to be a fool and let them continue to mistreat me.

(c) 2012 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles