Friday is usually the fuck off day for me on the blog piece, but I will try to come real with some short and sweet.
First of all, I feel weird about writing on my bleezy at all right now, because of how pissed my parents got at me about what I said. As more time passes, I feel calm and confident that I said what I believed, but also pissed and sad at the reaction. Basically, I just keep wondering if I am really “excommunicated” from the family. I really don’t want to be excommunicated, but I mean…really?
There’s a few aspects to the whole thing that led to such a reaction. First of all, I’m a fuck up under their criteria, because I waste my talent on booze and laziness. In 24 years, there have been plenty of blowups and “I’m through helping you,” because I always procrastinate and dick around. It’s never been a forced estrangement, though, which is supposedly what’s going on.
In addition to being a career jerk-off, I then judged my parents on their parenting style, which I characterized as controlling. They both took it as a huge slap in the face, and proof that I resent my childhood and upbringing. In my mind, I see it as a classic case of a difference between intent and interpretation, not a declaration of war.
Now for the kicker, not only did I “criticize” my parents, I did it in public, here on this blog, a den of slackerhood and bullshittery. Showboating for my friends by ripping on the parents? Hardly. Was this the perfect atmosphere for starting a philosophical discussion about how I was raised? Maybe not. In the end, though, I feel justified in using my personal forum to bring up issues I feel are important about me. If I can’t be upfront about the way I feel, that doesn’t seem right. It’s all about me, as usual.
Is my excommunication a sealed deal? I don’t know. Sunday is my weekly “call the house” day, so I will see what’s up then.
One half of me thinks I should just stop talking about it, leave the entire subject alone, and go try to make amends to the parents. Then, the other half thinks that the whole excommunication is another extension of their influence. Personally, I cannot visualize not having a relationship with mom and dad, it’s kind of like asking myself what does it feel like to float around in space without a space suit on. It doesn’t feel relevant. But in the end is it justified? Maybe, I guess. The thing is, I think I have done things 100% times worse than calling my parents out on being controlling. For example, I used to wear my excessive druggage on my sleeve, and I would tell my mom whatever stupid shit I had done recently when I felt like it, like doing blow in the bathroom during the family vacation.
That public acknowledgement of my past deeds, is the core of the issue. On one hand, it’s a painful memory, to know that I flagrantly violated the basic trust of my parents on a family vacation, and was getting jacked up on the DL and also drinking heavily, knowing full well my family’s position on drugs. So there it was, I was a huge asshole about some things, that is only 1 instance. The Stoney crew knows full well about my history of moral and philosophical violations. I’ve never beat any body up, but it’s a known fact that I can be a dick about stuff. I’m embarrassed about the way I used to roll, but really, I can’t fucking change the past, and I don’t hate myself, so what do I have to be embarrassed about? Mostly, it comes down to me feeling bad about certain things I’ve done, and not apologized before or acknowledged, and trying to work it out.
For years I’ve thought my parents were controlling, and influenced me more than I saw my friends’ parents influencing them. One time, my mom called me in college busting my balls about this or that, and I got off the phone, and I was just sitting there bummed the fuck out, and Suit was like, “Dude, let it go, you shouldn’t be so hung up on what your parents want you to do.” That was like 5 years ago, when I was a sophomore in college. I can remember feeling the same way about what I was doing as recently as a few months ago, if not last month. Bummed the fucking fuck out, sitting there staring at the floor, knowing full well that I was not doing what I was “supposed to be doing.” My posts about finding out what the Real World really is, is an extension of that internal dialogue, of me coming to grips with what I was supposed to be doing and what I was really doing.
In the end, was it wrong for me to talk about the way I felt, even though I knew it was a sensitive subject? No, it’s not wrong. Maybe I did it in the wrong place, and should have just made a call or wrote a letter, but really, I can never see myself doing that. I have huge communication problems, as my special lady T can attest to, and my other special lady Dank can back up as well. If I didn’t tell them the way I felt, I’d just be being a little bitch, and not sticking up for who I am.
Anyway, I’m going to try to avoid any and all parental talk as of today, this post. I love my parents very much, and I hope I am not excommunicated from the family I grew up with and care about. I have been trying my hardest lately to not rush into things emotionally and rashly, and am trying to approach this situation the same way. Peace out, everybody.