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eredienThose of you who have actually met my parents and interacted with them for any length of time can probably ignore this; those of you who haven't should read.
Much of what they said to me regarding the fact that I'm bi and dating a girl is, I believe, wrong.
However, I don't regret that they said it. I'd rather hear what they're really feeling and deal with that then have them have said something they didn't really think and then find out later that that wasn't the whole story.
One of the things I said to them is equally applicable when turned about and applied to myself: "I didn't want to hurt you; I just wanted to let you know what was going on in my life."
Because one approach--telling the truth--gives the ability to change and grow and move to new ways of understanding and (possibly) healing. The other never does, and in fact goes in the opposite direction, toward fear, anger, lies, and sadness.
They are not evil people, despite some evil things they have done and said. I have probably done and said some evil things to them, too.
Something Lotusbiosm said in the comments to the previous post got me thinking: "It must be hard realizing you've raised a stranger." In the past I've often wondered why my parents feel like strangers to me; my parents and I have even brushed up against the topic in conversation a few times (we haven't really spoken about it; we've merely commented on its strangeness). I still feel like that, and it still makes me sad, and it still makes me try, when I can, to talk to them and bring them into my life. But I've been thinking recently how hard it must be for them to also feel that. Can't be any easier--just a bit different--in reverse.
Right now they're trying to be the best parents they can be. Because they also need friends in their lives more than, possibly, they ought, they also wanted their children to be their friends. I believe that parents should be parents first and friends second, if it works out that way. I think, unfortunately, that it hasn't worked out with the second option, so they're mourning the loss of not only an idea of their daughter, and an idea of their parenting skills, but also the idea that their daughter could have been their friend as well as their daughter. I find it, honestly, refreshing see them trying to be parents first and friends second. And who's to say that through time and truth, which both heal, that that option won't come around again, for both myself and them?
I don't like the way they've reacted, as parents, to me at the present time, and I don't like the idea that they think their parenting skills have to have been flawed and immoral, to have raised, as they see it, a flawed, immoral daughter. But I don't have to like their reaction; after all, I'm their daughter, not their friend. And I think their parenting skills were pretty damn good to have raised a daughter who can make her own decisions and take responsibility for her life, and who chooses to tell the truth when it's hard. I hope someday they'll be able to see that part of the whole issue too, and stop beating themselves up about it. I think they can see a little of that now, in fact; perhaps more will come later. And I hope they'll understand, too, that not every decision I make in my life can be traced back to them and something they did as the root, cause, and source.
In some ways I'm glad I went through, earlier, the whole dragon-angst-parent-stuff. It feels, now, like a dry run for this (a dry run that was still important in its own right, as each dry run at the Olympics is important, giving you the lay of the track and hill, teaching you for a moment when it matters). I seem to have learned several lessons from that. The one which was most importantly hammered into my skull at the time, and the one which I applied in this case, was "telling the truth frees not only you--from fear and confusion and mental pain and its physical side-effects--but it can also free other people if they let it. It's never easy but it's always the best idea, long-term, if you wish to take full responsibility for your life and the things you do in it."
Which I wish to do, and keep doing, unashamed of myself at the least.
Much of what they said to me regarding the fact that I'm bi and dating a girl is, I believe, wrong.
However, I don't regret that they said it. I'd rather hear what they're really feeling and deal with that then have them have said something they didn't really think and then find out later that that wasn't the whole story.
One of the things I said to them is equally applicable when turned about and applied to myself: "I didn't want to hurt you; I just wanted to let you know what was going on in my life."
Because one approach--telling the truth--gives the ability to change and grow and move to new ways of understanding and (possibly) healing. The other never does, and in fact goes in the opposite direction, toward fear, anger, lies, and sadness.
They are not evil people, despite some evil things they have done and said. I have probably done and said some evil things to them, too.
Something Lotusbiosm said in the comments to the previous post got me thinking: "It must be hard realizing you've raised a stranger." In the past I've often wondered why my parents feel like strangers to me; my parents and I have even brushed up against the topic in conversation a few times (we haven't really spoken about it; we've merely commented on its strangeness). I still feel like that, and it still makes me sad, and it still makes me try, when I can, to talk to them and bring them into my life. But I've been thinking recently how hard it must be for them to also feel that. Can't be any easier--just a bit different--in reverse.
Right now they're trying to be the best parents they can be. Because they also need friends in their lives more than, possibly, they ought, they also wanted their children to be their friends. I believe that parents should be parents first and friends second, if it works out that way. I think, unfortunately, that it hasn't worked out with the second option, so they're mourning the loss of not only an idea of their daughter, and an idea of their parenting skills, but also the idea that their daughter could have been their friend as well as their daughter. I find it, honestly, refreshing see them trying to be parents first and friends second. And who's to say that through time and truth, which both heal, that that option won't come around again, for both myself and them?
I don't like the way they've reacted, as parents, to me at the present time, and I don't like the idea that they think their parenting skills have to have been flawed and immoral, to have raised, as they see it, a flawed, immoral daughter. But I don't have to like their reaction; after all, I'm their daughter, not their friend. And I think their parenting skills were pretty damn good to have raised a daughter who can make her own decisions and take responsibility for her life, and who chooses to tell the truth when it's hard. I hope someday they'll be able to see that part of the whole issue too, and stop beating themselves up about it. I think they can see a little of that now, in fact; perhaps more will come later. And I hope they'll understand, too, that not every decision I make in my life can be traced back to them and something they did as the root, cause, and source.
In some ways I'm glad I went through, earlier, the whole dragon-angst-parent-stuff. It feels, now, like a dry run for this (a dry run that was still important in its own right, as each dry run at the Olympics is important, giving you the lay of the track and hill, teaching you for a moment when it matters). I seem to have learned several lessons from that. The one which was most importantly hammered into my skull at the time, and the one which I applied in this case, was "telling the truth frees not only you--from fear and confusion and mental pain and its physical side-effects--but it can also free other people if they let it. It's never easy but it's always the best idea, long-term, if you wish to take full responsibility for your life and the things you do in it."
Which I wish to do, and keep doing, unashamed of myself at the least.
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(no subject)
8/4/06 04:54 (UTC)And yeah... it may take a while, but I think that ultimately your parents will benefit from honest treatment. It's good to dissolve illusions; with your hand freed, you can grasp something solid.