Binding ties

We all do it. We set up rules in our lives. Things we see as good signs or bad signs. Things that make someone right or wrong. Deal-sealers and deal-breakers. One thing I've learned to be weary of is people who use the following phrase: I knew you'd understand. This is a phrase often used by Person A on Person B (someone who cares about Person A) signifying that Person A was given a choice between Person B and someone (or thing) less loving/understanding and chose the lesser of the two. It's a phrase that most often means: I shat upon you because I knew you'd take it.

Humans have this unfortunate way of hurting those they love and care about the most - dumping on the people they know will take it. They may appreciate their support system all the more for standing by in the "tough" times, but there's only so much shit a person can take before they start to resent it and slowly back away. People dole it out because they can, often not stopping to realize that it is because you can, that you shouldn't. Unfortunately, fan clubs aren't built and popularity contests aren't won by shitting on people who won't take it. Shit-giving is the anti-prize for love and loyalty.

Three women. Three crises. One day. One issue. Family. 'Family' is Latin for "those who love to shit upon one another." 'Relatives' being "those who are selfish or self-centered and who often do things with little regard for the impact upon others in the family." Mostly people just give what they are used to receiving - things marketed and sold to them under the brand of Love. Chalk the cycle up to brand loyalty. I know so many adults who, once you get to know them, have tons of insecurities and triggers in unlikely places all thanks to the TLC of their loving families. While it's true we would have far exceeded the baggage weight limit if we'd checked in our emotional baggage, we'd have also never passed the medical exam if our emotional scars were obvious. Cut veins, track marks, bruises, broken bones, torn muscles, swollen joints. All the things we've been put through are so obvious under the right light. All things done for people we love. All things we're so glad others rarely take the time to notice. 'Adults' is Latin for "those well schooled in the art of pain disguise."

I wonder if it's a commonality just among the people I befriend or if it is more general: that of feeling orphaned at some point in your life. As if your family had other, better things to do. The point where something thinks "I'm all alone now" even though they are surrounded by 'family.' It's usually brought on by a death - perhaps literal, perhaps more figurative. Death of will, of interest, of strength, of courage, of joy, of passion. The point where there is no more giving or comfort or security... and certainly no joy in it. It's gone. Gone for good. In the living, you can see it in their eyes - life becomes too much and a certain blankness takes over. A blankness that can suck the life out of everyone around the person, especially offspring. A parent's own need for more or less, their anger or fear or cowardice, their own limitations - these things can smother a child well past childhood and become a role reversal, one where the children are expected to nurture the parents. Parents who are often not enough are just as often, though in different ways, too much. Depletion and exhaustion have successfully recycled themselves.

Talking to others about their own families, especially their parental problems, has helped my own to resurface. Black and blue, bloody and sore I see my old wounds have not yet healed. I keep trying to be understanding, but I've been asked to do that for far too long.