It's taken a while to see myself in these people. Family so often don't see one another clearly, and they push one another's buttons so deeply... and it would all degenerate into weirdness and stay that way, except... you have to deal with them!
That forced association seems like anything but an advantage. When things are difficult with nonfamily, you can just phase the person out of your life. If they're being strange, you ditch 'em. Family, however, are yours forever, bless them. They're often the type of people you wouldn't associate with otherwise; and interactions with them are charged in a way that casual associations can't even aspire to. In family, we mean things to one another, and we don't really understand why we react the way we do.
To continually return to interacting with someone you'd otherwise shut out seems counterintuitive..and yet that's exactly why family members are so wonderful. Forced contact affords some hope for resolution. If you cut them off--or they die-- you part ways knowing that they've never seen you the way you yearn to be seen.
When I was little, my parents were on rough terms with some of their family members, and my small self wondered if these other people were "bad." It was all a bit perplexing. But reconciliation--to the extent it happened--was wonderful. I can't speak for my parents, obviously, but I'd like to think that they understood something about themselves by coming back into relationship with their problem relatives.
Perhaps you still think of your parents the way you used to? As much as you have changed; as much as your view of the world has transformed; have they changed too? Have you revised your view of them since your teen days--have you seen them with adult eyes?
It's so devilishly important to feel "seen" by these people, and so incredibly easy to feel otherwise. In that dismay and anger, you might consider that perhaps you do not see them clearly either. That they have loved you since before you were born, with the selfless blind ferocity that parents have. Before you ever knew yourself, they watched you discover the world, gravitate towards food and comfort; and be stunned in bewilderment and incomprehension. They wondered why you were the way you were; they had ideas about you; and they confused you with their sisters and mothers and their younger selves. To yourself, you are just this person, but to them you represent a past and a future infused with associations.
When adults see children, they know that they will grow up. When you're a child you can't appreciate this.
This past weekend, I attended my 15-year class reunion at Catlin Gabel. As I got reacquainted with other members of the class of 1991, I marvelled at what lovely people they have become. We are certainly all a lot more sufferable than we used to be! As teenagers we had no idea where we were headed, and we didn't understand how precious and felicitous our environment was. Until later. Now, all of my classmates who are parents want to send their kids to the school as well!
Twenty years ago, my own parents tore their lives and finances apart so I could go to Catlin for eighth grade. By "tore their lives apart", I mean a literal rearrangement of lifestyle into a stressful and disjointed new state. My mother found a job at the school, and the next year my sister went there as well.
My father recently told me, "Watching your joy at learning was the most wonderful thing. There was no way I could see you go to C__ (the local public high school)." I think my now-adult classmates must feel the same way: here you are charged with the care of a precious little human. You want them to have the incredible experience you had. Even if they won't appreciate it for years.
So: I love my parents. I can't imagine anyone else giving rise to this very unusual daughter. Deep bows to you both.
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