Day Three Hundred and Sixty Four: Family Matters

If you remember, one of the reason that I started this blog is because of my family.

My overbearing mother and my cancer-grumpy father being the two greatest perpetrators, although my crazy Texan relatives might also be a good thing to mention. Anyway, if you remember my relationship with my mother was particularly strained. Moving out seemed to help that a lot. For one thing, she doesn’t see me nearly as often, so she has fewer chances to make passive aggressive comments about my looks/weight/health/relationships. I haven’t been called fat in nearly a year!

We have lunch almost every week because she works really close to where I live. I like these days because we have a chance to hang out and be mom/daughter, but if I start to sense her crazy coming, I use my dog as an excuse to get home. Works every time.

My father, on the other hand, remains an enigma. He’s been borderline depressed since the cancer diagnosis, even though he’s been cancer free for six months now. He has zero energy to do anything unless I bring my dog over. Then he’s all about going to the dog park and the pet store and playing with Ecco in the backyard. Don’t get me wrong, I love that my dog can give my father some comfort, but I hate that my father refuses to spend time with his family. It’s hard to see my dad, who is my hero, so depressed and tired all the time. Nothing I do to cheer him up or make him do things seems to work. So, there’s that.

My brother, for anyone who cares, is still an asshole living at home. Every time I feel down on myself, I just think “Gee, I’m better than Nate.” It’s sad but true. Moving out means he has fewer chances to bully me and just generally behave like a loser around people I love. Yay for that. But, don’t tell him I said that because he still watches Ecco for me from time to time. I like the free babysitting.

So, end of the line is this: Moving out has greatly improved my relationship with my family. My mother doesn’t get to demean me every day (Only Tuesdays and Thursdays now.) My father’s depression is out of my hands and being away from home means that I am not constantly exhausting myself trying to fix a problem that I can’t fix. But I love him still. Moving out is also one giant step that my brother has not yet taken, which makes me feel pretty good about myself.

All in all, I love my family and will spend the next lifetime alternately bitching about them and blessing them. Because I’m Irish and that’s what we do.

Challenge to my Readers:

Family is forever. Distance makes the heart grow fonder. The greater the distance, the fonder the heart.