Family Dynamics

Human and family dynamics are a fascinating thing. My mom had issues with her mom for her entire life because she forever came in second to her brother simply because she was a girl. Was she did was fine, but could never once measure up to what he was able accomplish. In the actions and words of her mother, nothing she ever did was quite good enough. I have complained all of my life that she is exactly the same way and doesn’t see it. She was always very critical of my, and not so much of my brother. When I was old enough to understand the irony of this situation I chose to see the humor in it. My best laid plans were not going to measure up. I have long since stopped trying and really I’ve made as much peace with it as I can. She is blind to her tendencies, and nothing I do or say will ever change that.




Ever since the fire she has become very clingy and needy, asking more and more of me as time goes on. I cut grass, clean the house do the laundry, run the errands, take out the trash and take care of the dog and kids. She’s stopped driving after dark sp any evening errands fall on my shoulders as well. This is not a complaint, exactly, as I feel its my job to take care of her, since my dad is not here to do it. As time passes the list of what I handle gets longer and longer. That’s not to say she does not pitch in, we alternate weeks buying groceries, and last week it was her turn.



And this is where it starts to get funny: She comes home from the store and she bought some of the wrong things. I’m picky about my food; I’m the first to admit it. But there’s the wrong jelly, the wrong cream cheese, and so on. Nothing serious, but enough to irk me. I say nothing, of course because really is cream cheese worthy of hurting someone else’s feelings? It gets funny here because of the voice that piped up in my head when I saw the errors. All I could think was “Jeez, its one trip to the grocery store, couldn’t you even do that right?” Harsh, right? Which is why I silenced the voice. As hyper critical my grandmother was, (and she was, I can assure you), and growing up under a person who was also very critical, I have become the same way towards the person that created the behavior in the first place. That’s where I find the humor. I have become her only its directed towards her instead of my children. Funny thing is I swing the other way towards the boys. At least I hope I do. I tend to be a little more agreeable and a little more lenient than she was, because I want to break the cycle. I think the critical voice comes out towards her because she was the one that spawned it in the first place. She has become a fragile person who needs care. I know I will not ever be able to clear the air between us, ashes simply not ever going to be a place where we could without that critical voice coming out and really hurting her feelings. That voice makes itself known here and there, with little things, like asking me to take the dog out after I’m in bed. These requests usually come with the internal response of “What’s the matter, not strong enough to do it yourself?” Like I said this voice never sees the light of day. But even knowing the voice exists, knowing I have the freedom to think these things is like my internal retribution towards her. To know, I COULD say it, but I choose not to, is enough for me to feel like the scales are tipping to a more equitable balance. I’m not saying it’s the best solution, but at least for us for now, it seems to balance out.