Welcome to Fifty
Whoa! Slow your roll!
I'm not quite half a century yet.
I will be... in four days.
Never thought I would get here.
Let's see...
Saw a few movies in the last couple of weeks: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse. Mortal Engines (already mentioned). Aquaman, or as I call it, AquaMomoa. And Mary Poppins Returns. Had fun at all four films.
Question for a later date: why do ensemble DC Comics films do poorly but individual hero films seem to do very well? It's a curious thing.
Golden Globes were last night. I watched and enjoyed but there is something missing. Before.. I would search the audience to see if Carrie Fisher was in attendance. That joy is gone. She's no longer here.
Trying to decide what to do with my life. If I haven't figured it out by 50, is the possibility that I may never figure it out higher?
I know what I want to do but it's not easy being a paid writer. I don't blog enough to gain any sort of following and I don't know what avenues to pursue outside of education to get paid to work from home. It sucks.
Not that I want to be home because ... well, I just don't want to be home anymore. I'm sure you can understand. It's hard coming to terms with the fact that the parent you have, one you thought was the greatest thing ever, turns out to be not so great.
My parent was the eldest daughter. She was not the favorite child of her mother. That would be my aunt. She was the favorite of my grandfather. My grandfather died in 1976. My grandmother died in 2013. That's 37 years of being "out of favor." My mother was never seen as a great beauty. My aunt has always been. So, to compensate for being "less than," my mother doted excessively on my sister (much to my sister's chagrin but that's a whole other Oprah).
So this was our family dynamic: my mother hyper focused on my sister and I wanted my mother's attention. But, having said that, also understand that my mother worked all the time so she was never really there (especially when my sister needed her). Because of this, my sister grew to be fiercely independent and self-reliant.
Fast forward from childhood to now, I realize that I was always an afterthought. My mother could not remember the date of my birth. When I asked her what my sister's birthday was, she didn't even hesitate with the correct date. Mine? She couldn't remember for certain.
She remembers my sister's teachers. The only teacher of mine she remembered was my 5th grade teacher. Why? (You're going to love this. Really. I laughed. Angrily, but I still laughed.) My teacher sang in the church choir with my sister. That's why. My mother doesn't remember or care to remember anything about me. She remembers everything about my sister.
Does it hurt? Of course. Mothers are supposed to be there for their children.
But the truth is that not all people are meant to be parents. Sure, they can make the babies... but that doesn't mean they have an iota of ability or ken to raise them into functioning adults.
I think a lot of what plagues me stems from all of this and it makes me angry. Angry that I didn't recognize it sooner. Angry that I wasted all that time being resentful toward my sister for not liking our mother rather than asking why my sister didn't like our mother.
Yes, I am leaving a lot of personal history out but the point of it is this: it is okay for you to not like your parents. You do your duty and honor them and such but you don't have to like them. If it is easier for you to never speak to them again, that is A-OK.
Parents owe their children, not vice versa. And if that parent fails, go full on Elsa and Let It Go.
I'm not quite half a century yet.
I will be... in four days.
Never thought I would get here.
Let's see...
Saw a few movies in the last couple of weeks: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse. Mortal Engines (already mentioned). Aquaman, or as I call it, AquaMomoa. And Mary Poppins Returns. Had fun at all four films.
Question for a later date: why do ensemble DC Comics films do poorly but individual hero films seem to do very well? It's a curious thing.
Golden Globes were last night. I watched and enjoyed but there is something missing. Before.. I would search the audience to see if Carrie Fisher was in attendance. That joy is gone. She's no longer here.
Trying to decide what to do with my life. If I haven't figured it out by 50, is the possibility that I may never figure it out higher?
I know what I want to do but it's not easy being a paid writer. I don't blog enough to gain any sort of following and I don't know what avenues to pursue outside of education to get paid to work from home. It sucks.
Not that I want to be home because ... well, I just don't want to be home anymore. I'm sure you can understand. It's hard coming to terms with the fact that the parent you have, one you thought was the greatest thing ever, turns out to be not so great.
My parent was the eldest daughter. She was not the favorite child of her mother. That would be my aunt. She was the favorite of my grandfather. My grandfather died in 1976. My grandmother died in 2013. That's 37 years of being "out of favor." My mother was never seen as a great beauty. My aunt has always been. So, to compensate for being "less than," my mother doted excessively on my sister (much to my sister's chagrin but that's a whole other Oprah).
So this was our family dynamic: my mother hyper focused on my sister and I wanted my mother's attention. But, having said that, also understand that my mother worked all the time so she was never really there (especially when my sister needed her). Because of this, my sister grew to be fiercely independent and self-reliant.
Fast forward from childhood to now, I realize that I was always an afterthought. My mother could not remember the date of my birth. When I asked her what my sister's birthday was, she didn't even hesitate with the correct date. Mine? She couldn't remember for certain.
She remembers my sister's teachers. The only teacher of mine she remembered was my 5th grade teacher. Why? (You're going to love this. Really. I laughed. Angrily, but I still laughed.) My teacher sang in the church choir with my sister. That's why. My mother doesn't remember or care to remember anything about me. She remembers everything about my sister.
Does it hurt? Of course. Mothers are supposed to be there for their children.
But the truth is that not all people are meant to be parents. Sure, they can make the babies... but that doesn't mean they have an iota of ability or ken to raise them into functioning adults.
I think a lot of what plagues me stems from all of this and it makes me angry. Angry that I didn't recognize it sooner. Angry that I wasted all that time being resentful toward my sister for not liking our mother rather than asking why my sister didn't like our mother.
Yes, I am leaving a lot of personal history out but the point of it is this: it is okay for you to not like your parents. You do your duty and honor them and such but you don't have to like them. If it is easier for you to never speak to them again, that is A-OK.
Parents owe their children, not vice versa. And if that parent fails, go full on Elsa and Let It Go.
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