Sunday, June 13, 2010

DysFUNctional, lulz.

My family has a lot of problems. I've always been really honest and open about my family's problems, because everyone's family has problems and all of us should talk about it.
Not talking about it doesn't make it go away. It just makes you angry inside.

So I've always been receptive to answer, "how was your night?" with, "oh, it was great until I got home. Mom and Grady were arguing by the time I got there and I couldn't sleep for all the yelling, so I'm pretty tired today." Or "it was cool until my dad showed up and told me I'd never see my mom again. I haven't stopped crying for three days."
You know? Because then people say, "I know how you feel, my mom ran over my puppy, and I don't think it was an accident," and they feel better and we have a long lasting bond. Our dysfunctional families have been of substantial use.

And I've written this paragraph so that you understand why I'm writing the next one.

I think I may be estranged from my father and his side of the family.
He told me the Sunday after graduation that he would "like" for me to spend two weeks with him after my UNO orientation. We never spoke of it again.
So, while at orientation, I called and asked what? and he got angry, and I got angry, and the conversation didn't go anywhere but, ultimately, I won because Saturday has come and gone and I was not at his house.
However, my stepdad texted my dad some pretty awful "quotes" that I did not say, and my dad's feelings were hurt, and now we're not talking.

And I love my dad. Right? We all love our parents, no matter who they turn out to be. The child of a murderer whom was not convicted took the offender out for drinks because, "She's still my MOM. She'll always BE my mom." And if that lady can love her murderer-mom, then we can all love our parents no matter what.
I just think that he's really hypocritical. He's one of those people that preaches open-mindedness but doesn't practice it. That will tell you very seriously that he is never wrong, and never will be wrong, no matter the situation.
And that is very sad. Everyone should be wrong every once in a while. It teaches you lessons and makes you a better person. You can't grow if you're always right. And everyone has to keep growing.

Being a grown up is hard. It's not something I've exactly enjoyed so far. But I have to keep growing, up or otherwise, because I can't STOP growing. That would be akin to regression, and I've worked too hard to get to where I am.

And I wish it were more acceptable to talk about family problems. It's easier to ask, "are you a virgin?" than it is, "what's your home-life like?" And that's very sad too, because what your family is like is integrally more important than what your sexual status is.
I think that, as a society, we need to grow. We've been regressing for a few decades, and it's time to get back on track.
We need to talk about dysfunctional aspects, not just hide them.
There are so many people in hiding.

1 comment:

  1. When I found out Dad and Mom were fighting and he'd been cheating, I was devestated. I hated it because I was scared of what would happen. They were so mad. Now, Mom and Dad smile and act like high school kids on facebook, aweh I loooove you I misssss you. I just get sick, it's so fake. My whole life, Dad has cheated on my mind. And the day they fought my mom left without a word to my sister or me, and my dad just kept saying, "I do not want to be married," and, "You're mom, she's crazy." Look after your sister. Stop Crying. Come home. Why are you so upset? I get so mad still and it was like, months ago. But, they've always fought my whole life. And I was there when mom found him cheating ten years ago. That's one of my first memories. I stood in front of the door begging dad to stay. Now thinking back to that day, when they fought months ago and Dad was leaving for work and mom was just, gone. That was the first time life had made sense in a long time. It was logical. I could deal with that. But, this makes me livid. This makes me hate that they're together. I wish I could go back to little me standing in front of that door, yell at her, at them. You don't want this. Everyone is going to be miserable. All of your lives will be ruined and just terrible. But, then I wouldn't be here. Or MSA. Or angry and upset enough to sit in my room for days just reading and writing. I wouldn't be me. So what then? Who are we without our parents' dysfuntion, and are we forever doomed to repeat it?

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