On my mum’s side in particular,
the vast majority of my relatives are women. Women like to talk. This dates
back to history when ladies would meet with each other to have a good natter
and gossip about their day to day experiences. Unfortunately, I’ve never been
one to talk about myself much. I have no problems penning my thoughts; I find
more comfort in writing, but speaking about them – especially if their negative
– has always been difficult for me. In a sense, I was a very modest child - I
believe I grew up with a few self-acceptance issues as well. Even now, I have a
divine hatred of arrogance - modesty is the best policy - so it was quite
difficult for my family to coax information out of me. In retrospect, I think I
might have adopted a ‘guy’ mentality, similar to this:
(see between 30 and 42 seconds)
I talk in facts.
How are you? I’m fine? Do
anything this weekend? Went to a club. How
was it? Great!
I don’t always elaborate. And
while sometimes I know that this isn’t on purpose, sometimes it really is. So
maybe it’s not just about mentality, but about feeling comfortable as well.
Because I’m sure that we would all agree that there are just some things that
you don’t tell your relatives in the same way that you tell your friends and
vice versa.
You’ll remember that I mentioned
earlier on, that I grew up unable to accept the way I was for quite some time.
For more information, you can read my opening entry. I was a very atypical child. In primary school, I played with children younger than myself
because all the other girls ever did during playtime was hang around the
football pitch, gossip and watch the boys play football -snore-. In secondary school, I
used less of my mouth and more of my brain to get by, preferring to improve my
intelligence instead of my popularity. By even then, I was secretive. I was
almost ashamed that I had typically geeky pastimes. I played video games, I
wrote fanfiction, I spent A LOT of time at my computer and I liked watching
Japanese cartoons. I kept these sides of myself locked away indoors. The funny
thing is, most of my family knew these things about me. I could even share one
or two things with the members of my own generation, but at the same time,
there are things that are strongly associated with myself – things that are
integrated into my personality – that I am unable to share with them. And this
is because I’m not at ease enough to do so.
It should be common knowledge
that the way your treat your elders is different to the way you treat your
cousins, your friends or those who are younger than you. There’s a level of
respect that you must exercise
to your elders just because their
older than you and wiser than you. And I do respect my family, but what I’ve
realised now is that I’m not comfortable enough to be myself around them.
This doesn’t pertain to all members of my family however –
just a lot more of them than there should be. Everyone’s got a black sheep in
their family. I’m starting to wonder if I’m leaning dangerously close to becoming the black sheep of mine.
Perhaps it happened when I went
to university, where the bridge between me and my family increased substantially.
As I said, I was the kid that talked in facts. I started to dislike speaking to people on the
phone and even now as an adult, I find talking on the phone to be incredibly
awkward. I text people more than I speak to them – potentially, this might be the
influence of the writer in me or maybe it’s the fear of the awkward - if I can avoid an uncomfortable situation, I will. In fact, the
amount of people I feel comfortable talking to on the phone are enough for me
to count on one hand. That’s bad, I know. And because most of my family utilise
the phone to communicate – especially as we don’t live particular close to one
another, I feel that in me not contacting them the way their used to
communicating, they may have potentially interpreted it to be me purposely
distancing myself from them. And so they don’t call me. And I don’t call them.
And as such, the distance gets greater and greater and the relationship starts
to crumble.
Ever bumped into a person you
once went to school with as an adult? You haven’t seen them in ages; you had
some good times back in the day and now you wouldn’t mind catching up. Only your
relationship in school might have been something, but as an adult, you’ve both
become different people. You’re interests are different. The way you conduct
yourself is different and in being different, whatever relationship you might
have had, has no way of resuming.
I’m not sure I changed much
during university - I may have become a bit more confident, a bit more
responsible, a bit more self aware and a little less tolerant (of certain
things) – but excluding that, I’m pretty sure I’m the same person I was…I
think. Irrespective, I’m thinking that in having very little contact with my
family, that distance between us simply became too great. As a unit, they
themselves became closer and I became the person looking in from the outside.
And even though I’m taking steps to reduce that gap, it’s difficult because it
requires effort when it should be
natural. These people are my family after all. They’ve known me all or most of my life, but it doesn’t detract from the unfortunate fact.
It pains me to say this, but what
I’ve now come to interpret is the sad fact that while we are family, we are not
friends. Spending time together has almost become an obligation just because instead of the desire that it once was. Because to good friends, you share everything with them. You talk about the
highs and lows of your life. You may even go to a specific friend for advice.
You talk about your innermost secrets. You laugh, you cry and you share the
world together. But with certain members of my family, I cannot do this. And I’m
pretty sure that this is the case for them as well.
I feel like I don't know my family; I know them in a sense that I know their mannerisms and what they like and what they're good at, but I don't know them in that deep heartfelt way and I feel that they don't know me either.
Furthermore, if I have an issue - whether someone or something has upset me, or even something as big as this problem in its entirety - I wouldn't feel comfortable enough to talk to them for fear of
upsetting them – I dislike conflict – or overstepping the boundaries of
respect. And there are things – issues that I have - that even now I’ve kept
bottled up for years, and it's not healthy in the slightest.
All families have secrets nonetheless so maybe I’m not at all that different. At the same time, however, all of
this concerns me and as I have intentions of travelling overseas next year, I
feel that this needs to be rectified as soon as possible.
So how do we become friends? How do we become comfortable enough with each other to tell each other anything and everything? How do we get things back to the way they once were?
Is it as easy as picking up the
phone or spending time together? Because I visit them every couple of weeks or
every other month – and I never seem to feel any different. Should I divulge a
secret? Extend my trust? Because I’ve done this too and it hasn’t brought us
any closer. Or should I air out my grievances and then attempt to start afresh?
Stir the pot; let emotions fly and then reconcile because it’s impossible to bring
up an issue these days without upsetting somebody.
My advice?
Well, if I’m honest, I’m actually
at a loss this time. And I’m usually full of logical solutions to problems. And
I know that while there are families all over the world that are closely-knit,
there are also, families that can’t stand each other.
Only I seem to be in the unhappy
medium. :/
