So This Is Odd, The Painful Realization That All Has Gone Wrong

Before I even get into this post, I’d like to say sorry for being MIA to anyone who reads this or cares. I managed to break my internet right before school started (when I of course, actually NEED my internet), and have only now gotten it back. It’s been hard to blog. I have so many wonderful things to post on here, stories about my phenomenal classes and fantastic nights out. Life’s been really lovely lately. This blog however, is unfortunately going to be a bit sadder.

I think everyone feels somewhat let down by their parents in some way or another. I have yet to meet a person who is so completely in love with their family that they can’t see any flaws in the way they were raised. I think lately I’ve been seeing them more and more. I used to think it was easy to blame my shortcomings on my parents, but I’m beginning to think that perhaps it’s so easy because it’s right. I am a product of my mother and father, and of all of their successes and failures. I am who they raised me to be.

I had a long talk with my mom this weekend about everything, about who I am and how I got this way. I’ve actually never had such an honest talk with anyone. It was nice and very therapeutic. If I could afford it, I would see a therapist as often as possible. It’s so nice to confirm that I’m crazy enough to be normal and normal enough to be crazy. It’s nice to confirm that there are actually things that I like about myself, including my ability to understand the things that I don’t like about myself. It all sounds sort of insane, I know, but really, I am sort of insane.

I don’t think my parents failed me. There are certainly a million other scenarios far worse than growing up with my family. I was never abused or abandoned or anything worthy of a lifetime movie special. There are however, things I wish my parents had done for me. There are however, things my parents wish they had done for me. There are however, regrets about my childhood.

I was raised to be independent, but so much so, that I was left to fend for myself. There are times when a child screams "back off" or "fuck you" or "leave me alone" and is actually saying "I need help, please help me." My parents never really heard the underlying message. They wanted so badly for their children to like them, that they failed to step in and be the unlikeable parents.

This is why I don’t know how to eat and Harry doesn’t know how to study. This is why I never really learned the proper way to cook and clean and take care of a household, take care of myself. This is why I am so fucked up about so many things. We all are. The four Zelnick children are bright and fun and have strong, deep souls, but the four Zelnick children are also extremely fucked up. We’ve all turned to drugs and relationships that we’re wrong for us. We’ve all searched for reasoning and absolution in our lives. We’ve all desperately tried to escape this utterly painful independence that was forced upon us. We’ve all failed.

Yes, I would rather be like this than be overly dependent on my family. There’s no way of knowing who I would be or what my life would be like if my parents had stepped up to the plate a bit more when I was growing up. There really isn’t much use in sitting here analyzing every moment to figure out how I got this way. The point is, I am this way, and so where do I go from here? Well, I’m not going to make the same mistakes with my children, and I’m going to take it upon myself to fix the mistakes my parents made with me. I’m twenty years old. I can teach myself to eat and cook and clean. I can teach myself to be the person I’d like to be, and I know who that is, because my parents raised me to know what’s right. And for that, I thank them.