Don't Criticize What You Can't Understand
When I was in grade 10, me & some pals got picked up by the cops for drinking beer in an abandoned house. It was a small town, and there were no real repercussions but I will never forget that night. I was way more afraid of my parents' reaction than I was of the five-o. My mom's biggest worry was that I looked like a slut, as I had been taken into the station with 3 guys. (there were other girls with us, but they got away - that fact was irrelevant, I mean my god, what would people think!?!?).
When those same parents found out I have tickets to go see Willie Nelson, my dad said "I didn't even know you liked Willie Nelson!!!" That statement stabbed me in the heart.
I have been experiencing malaise with regards to school. It's no secret. I talk to my parents about it on a regular basis. Since I re-started academia last year, I have had three different majors. I haven't felt like I am on the right path. I don't feel particularly motivated in the field that I have chosen. It's causing me angst.
Tonight I told my parents I'm doing a 180. I'm switching it up again. Fuck the third world (not really), I'm getting a degree in psychology. My mom was cold and critical; I could hear it in her silence. "I don't know what to say" she said. "You look like a flit-ass" she said. "I thought you had a calling" she said.
Yes, I look like a flit-ass. I am not sure how the fact that I am a flit-ass has escaped my mother's notice in the past 31 years. It's not news. It's not something I look like. It's reality.
A calling? I have been completely up front with the rents that I actually do not feel like I have a calling. When they press me about what I want out of my current field of study, I can't answer them. WHY. ARE. THEY. NOT. PAYING. ATTENTION.
I realize I have just wasted 2 years at school doing something I no longer intend to pursue. That's a lot of money. I know it, and it sucks. But the point is, all the flitting may have finally led me to a calling, and all she is concerned about is the fact that I look flakey.
I asked her if she thought it made more sense to finish a degree I don't care about, or to pursue a degree that interests me endlessly. After another measured silence, she said "I just don't understand."
No mother, you don't. And I realize that part of the reason you don't is because you don't know all the ins and outs of my mind. And it pains me to say that the reason you don't know those parts of my mind is because I keep them hidden from you. And I am also very sorry to say that the reason I keep them hidden from you is because I cannot STAND the judgment that is brought down upon my honesty.
I don't like the thought of being defined by my job... of "being something". I already am something. I don't have any particular desire to have my self-worth validated by good grades, or appearances, or my "career". I put enough pressure on myself, I don't respond well when it comes from other sources. I embrace my experiences - all of them. Good ones, bad ones, crazy ones, painful ones, loving ones and everything in between. I am not concerned if people are going to "think I am a flit-ass". Let them think it. I am much more concerned with things that carry weight. I'm living my life for me, and not for what other people have decided I should be doing. There are bumps in the road and that's what keeps the journey interesting.
I hope this doesn't ruin Christmas.
posted by ces @ 12:17 AM
1 Comments:
You know, it came to my attention several years ago that parents don't see you as you are. They can't. Because everything you do is tied into their own fantasy of who you should be, and it gets so tangled that the resulting picture is a broken figment that rarely resembles the actual thing. I was reminded of this as I read my Dad's Christmas msg to the family masses where he described the year's events within the family. He told of the documentary, my writing, etc. but he got it all wrong. It was nothing like it really is despite the endless times I've described it to him. I don't belong to a 'writer's group', it's an international organization. And the documentary isn't on Canadian writers, it's on the romance writing industry. I think parents listen with a filter on their ears. They hear what they want. And if the reality doesn't match their view, they get angry at you for destroying the picture they're comfortable with. I say follow your dreams. Do what you want and the hell with what someone else thinks of it, even if that someone is your parents. It's not their life, it's yours. You're the one that has to exist in it. If they don't like what they sell, tell them to change the channel.
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