Friday, December 11, 2020

What We Carry

It really dawns on me more and more sadly that I was brought up in an extended family full of deeply conceited, judgmental and snobby people. It was the recipe for misery and it was soul crushing. 


My family's conceit hasn't been earned. It had no real justification. But everything was centered around appearances over all else. I realize that's why certain aunts and uncles looked down on my siblings and myself. So much about us flew in the face of their narcissistic delusions. I saw a lot of it for what it was even as a child, but that didn't make it easier to survive. 


You had to live in the right house, drive the right car, own the right things, wear the right clothes, have the right looking body, have the right jobs, follow the right trends.... and generally behave like life was built on high school popularity parameters. If you were a waitress,  a service person,  if you dressed or acted outside the norm, chose to live small, alternatively, simply, non materialistically or just plain looked different.... something was wrong with you or you weren't good enough. Therefore,  living in a run down hell of a home like I did, wearing crappy clothes, being without parents,  the feelings of shame and inadequacy were unspoken...but constant. My brother and sister and I just didn't fit in.  We were an ugly blemish.  We shouldn't have existed, in some of their minds, but there we were... the family scandal. We felt it. It shaped us.


I think my family's behavior was a lot of overcompensation. A lot of them were people who didn't evolve or accomplish anything real with their lives and they were deeply screwed up, so all they had was an eternally aesthetic and materialistic way to feel better about themselves. It's pitiable.  But it did a lot if damage. 


A lot of them are very much the same, btw.


I told the truth, I stood up to them when I had to, I left their toxicity in the dust geographically. And yet, I spent many many years feeling like I had to live life in a way that proved my worth to them, even after I knew they were a mess and never deserved that power over me. It was programmed into my neurology to accomplish big enough things to try and make them accept me. Even though I moved away,  and despite my deliberate rebellions, I still partly avoided living my life on my own terms, according to my own preferences and inclinations, because a part of myself still remained back in Pennsylvania, subconsciously caring about who would look down on me for, say, wanting to live off grid, or in a tiny home. Wanting to live cheaply. Shunning the vapid, narcissistic vanity of my home culture. Working a non impressive sounding job. I mean, being raised in a home and coming from parental circumstances that brought constant shame to the family image really weighed down on my sense of self worth. I was still trying to prove my value....decades later.  


I still wrestle with these feelings, though now I recognize them. Not everyone I'm related to is like the above, but a majority of the people I spent my most consequential years with were. So many people are like them, because we live in a brutal culture. It expects more of us than we can really shoulder,  it demands we take on more than we may ever want. And it trickles down from there,  into the veins of our towns,  our families. It destroys people and it trains us to destroy the true happiness of our own in the name of pretending you've got it all together, with the proper aesthetics check marked for everyone around you to see. The thing is, I don't know about you, but I'm tired of it. I'm just plain tired...period.

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