Growing Up and Growing Apart

Stop it. You’re doing it again. Snap out of it. This isn’t you… or is it?

There’s no way of knowing how you are going to react to any individual. Normally, one is kinder to strangers than to their own family but why is that? Why is it that no matter how happy, free, spirited and patient you are with others, when it comes to your family the fuse is short. It’s like lighting a match in the middle of a wind storm. Short-lived, frustrating, and a waste of time.

More often then not, there is not one particular thing that they do which makes you lash out. And by all means, most of the time they mean well but because you’re so used to living on your own, having someone come in and try to micro-manage is a bit of a headache. An unwanted nuisance. They doesn’t mean to be like this. They just wants you part of their life. When you finally speak up and tell them to stop touching your things, to stop telling you what you can and can’t eat, they explode. They throw a tantrum like a 6year old child. You are left feeling so guilty as screams and slammed doors echo in the background. All I said was to stop going through my things. I like privacy. I’m a horrible daughter. 

The thing is, it’s hard for loved ones to welcome you back into their lives once you’ve been away for so long. People can change a lot in a couple of days, let alone weeks, months or even years. They learn to grow apart from the person they were raised from, obtain opinions of their own, and gain knowledge on different aspects of life. They say knowledge is power or the key to success. This is untrue. Knowledge is crippling. It deliberates one from the world that they once knew and shoves them into a new one. Knowledge is a scary thing, especially when it’s understood. When you’re six years old and running through the park, all you know is that you’re parents know what’s best. That your sibling will be by your side no matter what. That anything that is told to you must be true because lying is wrong. When you’re 12, the world starts to change shape. You start to argue with your sibling about what you believe is correct versus their version. You listen to your parents but begin to question their methods on certain things. You’re twelve but you start to gain the knowledge that perhaps not everything is what it seems. Jump to 18years. You’re going away for school and leaving everyone behind. The world that you have created and survived throughout your teenage years is about to enter the O.R. and put under the knife. When you come out, you’re outside appearance will remain relatively intact however, your interior will have shifted, been replaced, and parts removed all-together. And the knowledge that you store has expanded exponentially. What makes this transformation both beautiful and terrifying is that there is no way of telling. Your scars are hidden within your body, and your life experience only slightly leaks through your eyes. Your hairs have turned grey with stress as the weight of the world pushes down on your shoulders. You visit your loved ones after all that time apart and you begin to question everything.

Stop it. Bite your tongue. Just let them do what they always do, it’s only temporary. Enjoy your time with them when you can. No need to start an argument.

Too late. A slip and you’ve upset them again. You accidentally corrected them on a terminology, you discussed a touchy topic, you put your toe out of line and before you know it, the storm has arrived. You try to apologize but they won’t have it. Annoying. Worthless. Ungrateful. Stupid child. Fat troll. Why do you even come here, you don’t belong. 

Home is where the heart is but homelessness is all we know.