My parents shocked the hell out of me this week by calling me en route from Florida to let me know they would be in town for a little while. They shocked me even moreso when they told me the reason: my stepsister, Jenny, is in the hospital after a head-on collision. She is doing better, but is still recovering from surgery. I am happy to see my parents, always, but I hate that in order for me to see them, they have to be going through this. I am also worried for Jenny, despite the fact that we, truth be told, don't know each other very well. She is family, though, and of course I was concerned not only for her, but for her children, who are my niece and nephews, and for my stepmom, who had to deal with seeing her daughter in the hospital again.
My reaction to any crisis is, of course, to just be a goofball and keep them from thinking about it, tell them stories about my dumb life, and show them my tattoo so they can disapprove of it. They did not disappoint. "Why did you DO IT?!" my stepmom asked, looking completely aghast.
"Because I'm a grown-up," I had to remind them, "And because I can. And I wanted it."
My father was, as usual, silent, which is his usual state when faced with an uncomfortable moment. I had to remind them that I had wanted to get another tattoo for a while, and that I felt a great deal stronger after getting it. My arguments were valid despite there being no reason for them, or for my parents disapproving of what I do with my 29-year-old body. They just went into a story about my niece's boyfriend getting a really bad tattoo and having to spend $400 getting it covered up. I can't help but feel a little crestfallen that they didn't like it. They weren't even impressed when I told them that it took four hours, and that I sat quietly the entire time and never made a sound. My ability to withstand pain does not impress them. I don't usually quote Will Smith, but he had it right in 1988: Parents Just Don't Understand.
I had a similar feeling a few months ago, when my stepmom expressed some motherly disapproval over this blog. "I just don't understand," she said, "Why you wouldn't just write your feelings down in a journal if you have something to say. If you're worried about people reading it-"
"I'm not worried," I told her at the time, "I want people to read it."
She took that in and responded with, "Maybe it's a generational thing."
"Well, yeah," I said, "I don't see the point in writing something that no one is going to see. It keeps me honest- if I'm just writing for myself, I can tell myself anything."
She sounded like that confused her even more, but she didn't say it. I wanted to say that I'm doing this for myself! I'm putting all of my pain out there! Someone called me the female Hank Moody! But, I didn't say it. I knew I wouldn't get her to agree with my reasons for doing it. When Debbie got divorced, there was no blogging. There was therapy, and Snackwells, and there were her three children to take care of. We come from different worlds, and that is fine. I know my parents might disapprove of most of what I do with my new-found freedom. It's not their deal. They want the best for me, even if what they want me to do isn't what I want. They're smarter than me, and they want me to just go through life without all of this struggle, without the fallout from, say, my sister reading my blog or having to wear a cardigan even in summer to cover up my new tattoo when I file something to court for my boss. They want me to take it easy, give myself a break, tell a trained professional my thoughts and not put them online for anyone to read. They want me to make smarter decisions, but I want to take risks. I realize my risk-taking may cause even more head-scratching on their part. I'm going to keep sharing with them, keep being a goofus and waiting for them to scratch their heads in response. It's my role, and it's one I don't mind playing. Despite their disapproval, they have never influenced me to be anyone other than who I am, and I know they only react that way because they love me. They are the only parents I have, and I wouldn't change them even if I could.
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