My parents are pushing my buttons. I suppose this is in a figurative sense since we are on opposite sides of the country, but I can literally feel a small, round button being pushed deep into my back, just on the outer corner of my shoulder blade, the pain radiating up to my neck and down my arm. It began as a pinching feeling, more intense but closer to the surface, dysfunction grabbing and choking my muscles with its metal claws. I tried to visualize the pain, and the image that came up was of my sister pinching me mercilessly as a child, her fingernails clutching as she hissed and spit like a cat. I started crying.
The pain has relaxed a little now into pressure and vibration, more achy than acute, its effect not quite so paralyzing. I know the pain is my parents; I’ve had it before, most noticeably after they’ve been out to visit. The last time I chalked it up to whiplash at Universal Studios while on roller coaster rides with my nephew, but I know it’s them. Or more specifically, it’s my disappointment at the state of my relationship with them. I keep expecting with each interaction that things will be better, that my parents will be interested and involved, and each time I’m let down. I’m nothing if not persistent; determined—a fighter, as Jeff says. One could also say I’m stubborn, too bullheaded or naive to give up even when every sign points to futility. I’ve been hoping, hope against hope, believing that eventually I’d do something right, and my parents would pay attention to me.
Marriage isn’t it. I thought it would be. What could be more traditional, more acceptable, more easy to understand and identify with, more likely to bring a family together than a wedding? Nope. In the last few years my dad has loaned me money when I was struggling financially; my mom has worried about my lack of a stable job; my sisters have called to commiserate with me after a breakup. All of the attention I got was when I was failing and needed help. Now that I’m getting married and have Jeff to support me, they don’t need to bother with me at all. They simply are not interested in how my life with Jeff is coming along or in our wedding plans. That hurts, particularly since I expected to have them falling all over me. I feel it as a loss of love from my family, but my therapist assures me that I never had the love I needed from them anyway. What ended is the dream that someday they’ll be there for me in the way I need. Now I know it will never happen.
