The past year or so has been a new kind of struggle for me.
My relationship with my family has been changing. In the sense that I’ve been
growing into a more independent individual. I’m more private about my affairs.
I don’t solicit opinions for every major life decision. This all probably
should have happened long before my 27th year, but some of us are
slow learners ok? I’ve actually been making this journey for some time. Little
steps here and there, but the ties of influence still remained stronger than
they should for an adult child. My
decisions were still colored by the opinions of my parents. Essentially if Benjamin
Moore made a shade called Parental Approval, my walls would have been covered
with it.
The process has been somewhat painful in that change tends
to sting. And my parents are having a difficult time of it. I think ultimately
they will accept that the change in our relationship is a healthy one, and that
it’s good that I don’t depend on them as heavily as I once did. But they still
see it as losing their daughter on some level. It’s been difficult for all of
us to find a balanced relationship that doesn’t require them to approve of
everything I do. I attribute the abnormal amount of difficulty, in part, to my
Christian background. Biblically
speaking an individual leaves his or her parents and cleaves to their
spouse.
But what happens to those of us who leave with nowhere to
cleave? Without the logical breaking point signified by the life-altering rite
of marriage, the transition can become muddled. We aren’t marrying as teenagers
anymore. Some of us are waiting until our 30s, 40s or forever to tie the knot.
When the wedding didn’t happen for me, I remained in this limbo between full
adulthood and childlike dependence.
I know this isn’t the case for everyone. Most people
(Christians and otherwise) probably figured out how to navigate around this
archaic milestone to establish their complete independence on the first day of
college, in their first apartment or after they took their first job. But not
me. My dad was still the first person I called when my car broke down or when I
lost my job. And it was great to have that relationship. I still hope elements
of that will make their way into the new resurgence.
There are still things my parents instilled in me that will
always be there. My core faith. My love and loyalty toward my family. But I’m
beginning to accept that there may be dissonance on some of the lesser issues.
And that doesn’t mean our relationship has to completely crumble. I think
that’s been my biggest fear. Losing the relationship I have with my parents
altogether. I’ve held on to what it has been. Refusing to let it change because
if it’s not defined by the parent/child parameters, what could possibly be
left?
I know. It seems stunted and ridiculous. But my identity has
been so shaped by the eyes of my parents that if I disappointed them in even
the smallest ways I felt I wasn’t being true to who I was. I’m learning now
that being true to who I am is going to undoubtedly look very different than
living the life my parents would want me to lead from time to time. Because it
is not their own. This means I’m going to make some mistakes that I never would
make if I followed every step my parents would take. But I’m also going to
uncover a lot about what will make me happy in the long run.
It’s a bit scary. I know I’m going to disappoint them from
time to time. And that is not a feeling I deal with very well. To their credit,
they haven’t been unreasonably disappointed about much in the past, which is
why I’ve come to value what they think to an unhealthy fault. But as my life
has taken different turns and my path becomes more complex, I know I will
choose a turn or two that they may not agree with. I just have to trust that
altering our relationship does not mean ending it. And that I will always have
a refuge in their home if I should ever need it despite diverging from the path
they envisioned for me from time to time.
I really love this. I think it is kind of a weird limbo we hang in. I was in tears in my parents' kitchen a few weeks ago just mumbling that I want them to be proud. Oy. There is no get-it-done-quick transition to say the least.
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