From Son to Peer

After I finished grad school (aka, successfully postponed "real life") I moved back in with my parents (not the "real life" I expected). I was mainly staying with them because I had an internship that was supposed to end in 6 months and I didn’t yet feel comfortable putting myself up for a year long lease.

It didn’t take long for some curious things to start occurring.

I felt like I had changed a substantial amount while in college. It was seven years so I had better! The longer I found myself staying at my parents house the more I found myself feeling like I was back in high school. It was as if all three of us eventually found our ways back into our old grooves; our old expectations. Tell them where I was going, when and with whom. Continuously rebuff offers for things I thought they knew I didn't like or want. Ask for permission to have a friend stop by (I get that, and having to do that after 7 years of not needing to was weird).

I felt like a teenager again.

When I realized that I moved out.

I wanted to feel as though I were expanding not contracting.

This experience solidified my desire to proactively change my relationship with my parents from one of only parent-child to one as peers and friends.

While I was learning to dance tango in college I was invited out sailing on a boat owned by one of the older guys in the Friday night scene. It ended up being just me, him and another dancer who had somewhat taken me under his wing. I was 24 or so. The mentor was roughly 40 and the guy who owned the boat was about 60. Over the course of our day of sailing it became clear to me that there wasn’t much of a difference between the three of us and that age doesn’t mean maturity. The tango mentor was enjoying the sail, talking about his dog that died the year before that he still missed, and expressing excitement over someone he just started dating. The boat owner was mainly rehashing his glory days, talking about his sexcipades on the boat, or talking about the social scene at the tango events in town of which he had strong opinions. He mainly felt like a high-schooler to me; at least on this day he did.

This experience, along with teaching 50-60 years olds to fusion dance in a weekly event I ran, got me to question why I treated my parents the way I did. And, why I had continued to orient myself with them the way I had. I still saw myself as the kid. Which, sure, is and always will be somewhat true. I’ll always be their youngest son. And that doesn’t mean I have to always be treated as a child or EXPECT to be treated as one.

As with all things, I can control how I show up.

I stopped participating in “white lies” with both my parents.

“Mom, while I love your cookies, I don’t want a whole bag of them whenever I come to visit. I would love to take three with me if you make a batch. More is too much temptation.”

I started talking with them both as if they were close friends first, parents second. “Dad, this piece of wood-working is really nice. I particularly like this detail. What led you to making it this way?”

I have changed the way I behave when they are in conflict.

Sit up or stand up straight. Shoulders back. Deep breathes. Look for the feelings and intentions behind the conflict. Gently point them out from a detached place if I happen to find one.

The best things that have changed for me are our conversations. I recently shared a meal with them where we talked about what it was like for them to be raised, as kids, by their parents. Learning about how they were disciplined, how my grandparents dynamics played out, how different their childhoods had been with the ability to run around town and make mischief. How their own dynamics were with their parents and siblings. And how similar, generally, my childhood had been to theirs.

A fun one that happened a year or so ago was that I asked them if either of them had tried MDMA. They hadn’t so I told them about my first experience using it. This led to us talking about drugs, emotionally shifting experiences and a lot about their teenage and early adult years. The conversation ended with a comment from my dad, “I think that’s about enough for today Ben. We have to save some stories for later.” Implying that they might run out; I’m going to call your bluff, dad.

Intellectually, I know that I have only had the history of my parents that they have chosen to show me. There has been much more to both of their lives than I have been permitted to see. (I suppose that’s often the case with most relationships of any type anyway.) Then those presentations of them get swirled around to mix with my experience of them across my life.

I have to face that there’s nothing special about me here. The more I’ve shown up in my conversations, interactions, and expressions with my parents the more they have met me there. It’s as if they have been there the whole time waiting for me to arrive and it’s just been me who has been withholding. I had these beliefs that I had to find a way to get them to open up to me. There had to be a way through learning new tools or manipulating circumstances. I now believe that it was this desire to “get something” from our interactions that stopped me from getting what I was looking for; a dynamic, rich, mutually-respecting relationship. The effort prevented the result.

If there is to be a path forward or a way to streamline the whole process I am currently convinced that it is this, own your own shit and release your expectations. Which, really, is a good strategy for life no matter who you want to be closer with or have treat you differently.