You're just like your mother

Chest heavying, crazy eyes fixated on the wall, back against the door, these words rattle through every fiber of the house as my father shouts them at me from down the hallway.

Everything spins, and it doesn’t stop for hours, even after he thinks the argument is over and everything is all smiles. A too cold house on a summers day; I’m shivering when I shouldn’t be. My greatest fear exists in too perfect households and mothers who exist for all the reasons they tell you not to. I am bitter and angry with it, the idea of becoming my parents. It hides in the way I laugh, my short temper, or how I talk louder then I should, just as my mother does. I see it in how I look exactly like my father’s dead mother or whenever people tell me that I have my mother’s eyes. It seems inescapable.

 

I know my dad once shared the same fear I do, and the most terrifying part is now seeing him have become a carbon copy of his own father. Same old, same old, nonsense, bullshit yet somehow here he is, everything he once hated now coats his own personality like an old medal foil that’s taken years to rust. It’s the little things of course, you wouldn’t be able to notice it at first glance. But then you realize that his’s dialogue almost identical, and the way he over explains everything is well, like father like son. Generation to generation, like a family emblem. I can’t allow myself to think about it too much.

 

With every parent there is a good and a bad side. As their children, we see the bad side more often than any other people. We see the way our parents act and we realize that we never want to be like that.

 

I tell myself that its ok to pick out the bad in your parents, to acknowledge and take note of it, and then monitor my own personality for these traits. When I come across one of them, I try to see what’s triggering it. The best way to improve is to look at the people around you and pick out the good, and throw away the bad.

 

You don’t have to allow yourself to grow into your parents. The people you were raised around don’t have to define who you are or what you will become. You are so much more than your mother’s eyes.