Since moving home, my mom and dad have become my new roommates. Similarly to my college roommates, they often ask me to get dinner together, watch movies and chip in on the house chores. But, unlike my college roommates, they try to tell me what to do. I still get detailed lists of chores from my mom in the morning telling me to do them before she gets home. Yes, I can help out with cleaning up around the house, but our relationship is beginning to change.
In college, I figured out how to live, clean and cook on my own without the help of my parents. Now that I am home, I am still that independent person, just now with my parents constantly asking me to switch the washer and dryer.
But, the biggest problem in our relationship now is how they respond when I get upset about things. When I was young, I would cry about stubbing my toe, girls being mean at school or my brother shooting his Nerf gun at me. My parents are used to the 12-year-old Ginger whose tears were usually not that big of a deal.
Whenever I would be frustrated or emotional at school, my roommates always had receptive responses. They would say things like “it’s ok to be upset,” or “your feelings are valid.” I felt comforted by them even just listening.
Now, with my roommates being my parents, their responses to my tearful rants are not quite the same.
The other day, in the midst of a mental breakdown in front of my mom, she told me, “Ginger, I don’t feel sorry for you.” This line –– one that I’ve heard a million times –– sent me back to second grade. My mom used to perpetually say, “I don’t feel bad for you” whenever I cried over her not buying me a toy or saying I couldn’t hang out with my friends.
Why would I want her to feel sorry for me? I was just being honest about how I was feeling about post-grad and how it is difficult sometimes.
But, my mom doesn’t see the same 22-year-old that my college roommates did. She sees a girl who cries easily over simple obstacles. She remembers when I called her sobbing after soccer practice –– she had thought I got into a car accident. I actually just had knee pain.
She definitely has some PTSD after that and many other similar incidents. So, I can’t really blame her.
The “I don’t feel sorry for you” line comes from many years of my parents teaching my siblings and I gratitude. It was used when we didn’t get our way. Another signature line of theirs was “there are people who are starving who would love that meal,” often used at the dinner table when none of us would finish our meals. In case you are wondering, all three of us are part of the clean plate society now.
And yes, I feel my parents have taught me to be grateful for things. My parents are two of my favorite people, and have given me so much to be grateful for. They have supported me through everything, even my tears over my knee pain, and have always pushed me to be my best self.
But, when I am in the midst of a mental breakdown, the absolute last thing I wanted to hear was, “I don’t feel sorry for you.” That definitely made my blood boil. I wasn’t crying over my dinner, I was crying because I was frustrated and ranting and needed someone to listen.
So many relationships in our lives evolve over time. Friendships drift or become stronger. Young love becomes adult relationships. But our relationship with our parents, I would argue, is the one that changes the most. Our parents have seen us in diapers, in clothes that we would eventually “grow into” and in graduation caps and gowns. They’ve disciplined us when we misbehaved, caught us when we were sneaking out, told us “no” when we needed (but didn’t want) to hear it. So now, as adults making our own decisions, our parents’ final say no longer applies. Their time as a disciplinarian has expired.
So, what is our parents’ role now? While yes, since I am living in my parent’s house without paying rent, I guess they can still yell at me about the cups that I’ve been holding hostage in my room. But, I need my parents to be listeners. When I get frustrated or upset, I don’t need them to try to teach me a lesson. I need them to hear me –– to understand what I’m going through because they have been there too. Also, I don’t need them to tell me what to do in these situations, but rather tell me about their own experiences and what they have learned. I have to be the one making my own decisions, not my parents.
This transition from parental authoritarians to advising peers is difficult for both parents and their adult kids –– but having these conversations can help make living at home a little bit better. Or at least, that’s what I have found.
Let me know your thoughts about the changing of parental roles by emailing me: gingerlyons23@gmail.com or leaving a comment:)
Educated Guesses 