Re-acquaintance + 30 Things 3/30 Describe your relationship with your parents

Oh hai, Internets. Aye, I realize it has been several *cough* months since I created an entry. To be fair, I did say from the start that I would probably not be able to “stick with it”, as they say. To get back into the swing of things I figured I would pick back up on the narcissistic journey that is 30 Things!

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My relationship with my parents – oye; this is a touchy one for me. I actually did not live with my parents for a large portion of my childhood, but I was in regular contact with them. Eventually (in my mid-teens I think) they came to live with my grandmother and myself, but that is beside the point. My beautiful, sweet mother died a few years ago, so I will focus on her first.

I inherited quite a lot from my mom: my love for nature, music, and books. I also inherited a good deal of my looks from her and, unfortunately, I inherited some mental health issues from her. My mom had what she called, “nerve issues” but she would never see a mental health professional about them. Instead, she had her pcp give her various “nerve pills” to help her. I suspect that she was an undiagnosed bipolar and she certainly had severe anxiety and depression. In our society these are shameful illnesses to have, and that’s bullshit; but I assume that this is why she never got a proper diagnosis or proper treatment. Because of these illnesses mom could be difficult at times, but she was, at her core, one of the most amazing people I have ever been lucky enough to know.

Yes, very much like this. 

My mom loved everyone, including me.
She loved me the best that she could when I was very young. I can remember going shopping with her every week, even after I moved out of her house. We did love to shop together, much to the dismay of my father at times. Our trips to the mall to clothes shop were always epic. Book and music stores were an all-day event. When I was a teenager she was kind enough to haul my friends and I around everywhere – she even listened to our music with us without complaint.

True story - she loved our
grunge music.
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She was one of those “cool moms” that became more of a friend and buddy than an authoritative figure to me. It was not until I got older that I really began to appreciate what a good mom she was. She was *always* there for me. If I needed someone to talk to I could call her at any time and talk to her about anything. I will never have another person in my life that will love me quite like she did. I will never have someone in my life that is genuinely as interested in every single thing that I do and think as her.

My dad is still alive, but we live about 1,000 miles away from one another so we rarely get to see one another. I was always, in a way, “daddy’s girl” growing up. I was his only child and I had him wrapped around my little finger for a good portion of my life. Dad and I have spent a lot of time together in cars. Back in the day (when I was a small child) when he and mom were mad at one another, or when mom was having one of her bad days, it was RoAd TrIp time! 

I am fairly sure we spent a large amount
of time in Bat Country. 

He would haul me into the car, grab his wallet and keys, and the two of us would drive around all day – no destination in mind. We lived in Northwest Louisiana and it was not unheard of for us to end up in Dallas or some far-flung nowhere in Mississippi on one of these days. Sometimes we would go visit some obscure family member that he hadn’t seen in 30 years or so, other times we would go to some overgrown cemetery. He would drive 150 miles away to get us fried catfish at a specific gas station restaurant in Nowhereville, Louisiana. I always liked the trip back home the most. I can remember laying in the backseat of my parent’s ugly old Ford Fairmount staring up at the stars. It was 

amazing to me how much brighter the stars were outside of the city.

Good times...

Once I was a teenager, dad started taking me out to teach me how to drive; this was always exciting for me. He started out taking me to my high school’s parking lot on Saturday and Sundays; I was so enthusiastic about driving around in circles at very slow speeds! Eventually he started letting me hop into the driver’s seat in rural areas. Finally, he let me drive on one of our road trips – an empty highway in the middle of nowhere; it was glorious!

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There were, of course, times that he and I did not get along very well, but those times were few and far between. Dad was more often disappointed in my bad choices than he was angry at me; of course that disappointment hurt far worse than him yelling at me ever could. My dad and I always had a special relationship. I wish that we could now communicate more easily. We talk on the phone about once a week, I always call him. I think that he doesn’t want me to worry about him so he isolates himself from me; but this actually makes me worry more about him than less. I am still trying to convince him to move here and be close to me, but he has resisted so far. 

I guess that’s about all there is to say that is not too personal. I will close by saying that I know how lucky I am to have had the parents I did. I had two people that loved me and loved each other very much. They were both good people who loved to help others and didn’t mind taking in people and animals in need. I was, and am, damned lucky to have known them both. 

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