Thursday, October 23, 2003

Ugh. I feel nauseous. Welcome to Clomid, I guess. It's my fourth day on the stuff. Side effects: headaches, dizziness, moodiness, no appetite and nausea.

Here are some of my musings from my moody state:

My mom is around until Sunday. Not staying with me, but around the general area, selling my grandparent's old house. Jason gets flabergasted sometimes by the way that my family relates to each other. Sometimes I feel flabergasted, too, but I don't know how to change it. I feel like I've been trying to change it for ten years, but it's just not working, nor do I know if it ever will. I mean, I talked about all this stuff for a year or two in therapy, so I have all the head knowledge about why we work/worked the way we do, know, whatever. Therapy only goes so far. Then you live your life. Change or no change.

My family is distant. I think that's the word that I've decided to call it. We're not "estranged" or anything. Anyone looking at my family would probably think we were the classic, cute American family. My dad is now a minister, my mom's a teacher, one sister is a freshman in college and the other is a counselor. There's nothing really wrong that I can put my finger exactly on, maybe because I am too close to it. I thought for a long time that I was crazy--I was just a perfectionist looking for problems with a normal family. Or that I was just a very independent person. But since high school, I've just had this uneasy feeling that we weren't the close family that everyone thought we were.

It all probably stems from the fact that both of my parents had alcoholic fathers. My mother's father went to AA and stayed there for 30 years, but never lost his controlling, overly-paternal nature. My father's controlling father just drank until his emphyzema got him at age 60. Nobody thought "alcoholic" until 30 years later when my dad suddenly thought, "Hmmmmmmm." But again, I don't really know how this relates to the rest of us, only that I've seen other adult children and grandchildren of alcoholics and have identified with the distantness in their lives.

Maybe you learn from an early age, "Don't get too involved." That's kind of how I've felt my parents have regarded me for about ten years now. They are afraid of me. Afraid of getting too involved in my life. My mother sent me four letters in college. They rarely call. I think that my youngest sister has taken to hypochondria to get attention. Sometimes I want to scream, "Get involved! Love me!" Sometimes, though, I fear I am becoming the same way. Do I call them? No. I don't even think about it. Even when big things happen in my life. I just forget. Then when we do talk, I have to force myself to stay on the phone, and not come up with a fake reason to get off. And why? I have no idea. Usually the conversation is pleasant, albeit filled with my mom's constant nagging. Sometimes they will call and talk to Jason for awhile, then say they don't really need to talk to me. Which Jason can't believe, but then looks over and sees the look of relief on my face.

Jason shakes his head at me. "Why don't you call your parents more? Why don't you go visit your sister at college? If my family was this close, I would hang out with them all the time!" And he would. But it's just different with his family. I feel different with them. They feel like a normal family to me. They argue. They fight. They play. They shop. They kayak. Heck, I would like his family to be closer.

I love my family, and I feel overwhelming guilt for feeling all this stuff. Constantly feeling like I am letting them down- not being a good daughter. Not that they've ever said anything like that, mind you! But it's this big bug in my head. And I fear that I am this distant with everyone in my life. And I don't want to be this way with my own children someday. It would be awful to have my own daughter breathe a sigh of relief after she gets off the phone with me.

Maybe this is all normal for someone my age, but I just don't feel like it is.


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