At some point in the visit, conversations are going to turn to the topic of, well, you. The biggest piece of advice I could give any of you, would be to either be really vague or completely make facts up. Maybe this is the coward's way out....but if you tend to second-guess yourself a lot like I do, this might be the wiser alternative.
I'll start out by saying: I love my family. And I know they love me. This is not an attack on them. I just find myself drained and frustrated after being around them lately. I think the problem with families is....everyone's in everyone else's business. If you don't want to discuss something, well why? We're all family here.....there's no secrets here. I think of my family like a cross between My Big Fat Greek Wedding and Everybody Loves Raymond. If you get the references, than you know what I'm talking about.
Whenever we meet up, there's the standard questions:
Q. "How's the job search going?/You find a job yet?" and other variations on that question.
A. "Awful" and "nope." (I'm looking elsewhere now because this town's a dead end.)
Q. "So did you and that boy break up?"
A. "Yeah a few months ago." (Thanks for bringing it up.)
Q. "Well isn't that for the best? He was kind of a rebound."
A. "......." (I'm not even going to honor that with a response.This is about the time where I start thinking about how much I could use some vodka.)
Q. "Do you hear from your other ex anymore?"
A. "Not a peep." (Great...now we're stuck on the subject of my love life failures huh?)
"Well I'm so glad you woke up and listened to us about him."
"....Yeah." (Actually, I'll take anything alcoholic.)
Q. "What have you been up to?"
A. "Writing. Hanging out. Job searching." (Wallowing in self pity. Fighting depression and anxiety. Healing. You know.....the usual.)
Q. "What have you been writing?"
A. "Poetry to submit to magazines." (Also, performance poetry that you won't like because some of it's about you. Blogs so maybe I can help someone else....which you also won't like. Because some of them are about you.)
And it goes on from there.
See, I was vague. I bit my tongue. I smiled and nodded. I left it to bare facts and did not embellish. It's like trading a technical manual for your usual novel of life stories. I've learned to do this after the realization that I was upset after every well-meaning comment. Sometimes, family just doesn't understand that you're not a child anymore. Sometimes, they don't realize you're not looking for advice or a kick in the pants. You're learning to live on your own terms and all you'd like is their support.
Their, preferably silent, support.
Other than the questions, you've got the never-ending advice they need to bestow on you. My grandmother in particular always likes to bring up is what I like to call her Cautionary Tales. These are an endless supply of stories she keeps in her head of people she knew or things she saw on the news or Dateline. Stories that are meant to discourage the listener from doing what they were thinking about doing.
I wanted to go out of the country as a teenager. I got stories about young girls brutally murdered on vacation, even though they were supposed to be safe with chaperones. And what about our old priest that was mugged in broad daylight?
I was going on a trip to NYC with my class in high school. She had a story about that too, cautioning me to listen to my teacher at all times. And to not go along with any plans my best friend had because there was a story about good girls who listened to their best friends and went off from their group and then ended up in deep trouble.
I mentioned an interest in moving to Massachusetts. She had stories about why this was a bad idea, that young women shouldn't live on their own. They couldn't defend themselves if a man wanted in their apartment. What if the roommate brought in someone unsavory? She'd heard stories about that. She knew a girl who was really trusting and ran into trouble there.
Recently, I made the mistake of telling her I was hoping that someday my friend and I would have another chance at romance. That maybe after time and people and whatnot, a little twist of fate would happen. She had a story for that too. A close cousin of hers, who'd been with a guy and then they broke up. A year later they were together again and this time got married. And then he abandoned her with a child. And she cut off all communication from the rest of her family and no one heard from her for years until one day, her neighbors smelled her from down the hall.
The moral: Don't ever get back together with someone. They'll leave you and you'll die alone.
I'm beginning to think she made a lot of these stories up. Except for the one about the girls in another country. I saw that on the news.
But I realized after this last morsel, that all of her stories end the same way. Someone was trying to be adventurous, following their heart, taking chances and risks, trying to spread their wings or experience life. And then they ended up dead.
I'm beginning to see the similarity between my grandmother's Cautionary Tales and those fairy tales of old, where adults frightened children into staying home their entire life because the world was a terrifying place. Don't be adventurous or you'll end up almost eaten by a wild animal.
My entire life I've been so curious but too terrified to have adventures. I dreamed about having them. But I still found myself standing at the edge of my grandparent's property and staring across the wall into forbidden lands. Where I wasn't allowed to go.
Granted, that would have been trespassing. But I couldn't even let myself walk down their road and back. I used to play this game when I was a teenager, pushing my boundaries. I'd slowly and carefully walk slightly down the road, just to a cluster of trees at the edge of their yard. I'd pick up a rock from the ditch and chuck it across the road at the stop sign until it struck and made a loud clang. And then I'd run like hell back to their driveway again.
Rebellious, I know.
But I remember the anxiety coursing through me as I took those steps off where I was allowed to be. My palms were sweaty, my knees were weak, my head was screaming that I was going to get yelled at. Someone would hit me with their car. A van would show up and men in black masks would kidnap me. Something horrible would happen because I dared to be the tiniest bit adventurous.
And looking back on that now.....I find it rather sad. And explaining a hell of a lot about why I am the way I am. I've been raised on cautionary tales so the idea of going out on my own.....following my heart but having no real plan.....living life on my own terms......well, it sends me right into a panic attack.
But that's not how it should be. That's not how life should be. No one should be crippled by the fear of living their life.
This is what I've been learning in the past year, after a lot of reflection, analyzation and discussion with friends. You can't live your life afraid. You also can't live your life according to someone else. It's okay to be terrified.....but you gotta have the courage to do what you want anyway. Meg Cabot wrote that "Being brave is when you have to do something because you know it is right, but at the same time, you are afraid to do it, because it might hurt or whatever. But you do it anyway."
I'm telling you all: Do it anyway. Whatever it is. Moving to a new town. Writing a novel. Auditioning for a play. Trying out for cheerleading. Joining a gym. Telling the one you love, that you love them. Standing up to a bully. Visiting a distant land. Bringing down your personal demons.
You can do it. Despite the fear and the doubts and whatever people may have been telling you. You CAN do it. You are not going to become another Cautionary Tale. You are going to become an inspiring story. A goddamn legend.
And so am I.
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