Saturday, July 6, 2013

Unfortunate Circumstances of Blood

Families are difficult. At best. It's hard enough dealing with people you know, that you've known your whole life, with all of their faults, quirks, ticks, nuances, annoyingnesses, etc. Try getting married, and dealing with someone else's family. I can't begin to explain the complications that creates. But I digress.

I find that it's not so much that we grow to love the people they are (our families), because of their imperfectness ("It's what makes us human." That's bull), but that those incongruities start to fade from our peripheral, and we become blind to the unsavory traits of our families. And ourselves. Repetition doesn't make for habits, it makes for unconscious actions that don't register in our brains (check out this video to see what I'm talking about, it's a brilliant watch regardless of my rambles). But, somehow, it has become commonplace to interpret our blindness as familial piety. As unconditional love.

It's not. It never has been. And it never will be. But somehow we've convinced ourselves that it is. And generations continue to perpetuate this indefinite ideal of "love". The worst is that when we, as a newer generation, a younger generation, a "self-entitled," "self-absorbed," "doped up" and "sociopathic" generation counters the former system of respect and love, we are horrible people. We are disrespectful. We are delinquent. We are prideful. Whatever. Just because people share Phenotypes and Genotypes, doesn't mean that automatically love, friendship, similar interest and goals exist, that those people biologically have to, and will, love and like each other.

Yes, you created me. For that, I will always be eternally grateful. And now, having a kid, I want that same respect (I say want, because that's what it is: a want). But just because I participate in creating a human life, that doesn't give me the right to say and do and act however I want, just because I am older, "wiser" (whatever that means); that because I came first, my kid must now adhere to ever single word I say. That's not going to happen, I already know it's not. My daughter's too much like her mother already. She is strong willed. And that's good. The point is that no matter what I say or do, she is her own person, with thoughts and feelings and needs and wants, and those don't necessarily fall in line with mine. I might love her, but she might not love me. And that's life. I have to earn her love. I have to earn her respect. I have to prove that I am deserving of her love. I mean, let's face it, creating human life is pretty easy. Granted, there are those who struggle to have children, for medical reasons beyond their control, and that sucks. I can't begin to imagine what that is like. But that aside, the process . . . come on, it takes a minute for conception. People do it all the time. That is no reason for any parent to expect their child to love them because of the blood they share. It's blood. It's life, I guess. But it's also death. It's because of that blue and red liquid coursing through our veins that we die. We inherent death from our parents, just as life.

I don't know what my point is with all this. I've just come to realize that no matter what I do, no matter which "team" I'm on (and yes, families are segregated into teams, that's just how it works, I don't know why), no matter who I am and what I want, I will always lose when it comes to family. Sometimes I'm on my parents’ team: lose. My sister's team: lose. Most often I try to stay on my wife's team: I still lose. In the middle of all this blood, there is no love, no happiness; no winning; just a group of people that by some biological circumstances find it obligatory to interact with each other.

I'm just so tired of it all. So tired.

I need a nap.

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