They say that you mimic your relationship with your parents in your romantic relationships. I always tossed that idea aside, confident in my ability to over analyze every situation, I was sure I could see this one coming at me a mile away. Surely one can logically see when their father takes on their lover’s form.
In retrospect my relationship with them began an uneasy struggle of giving love freely never to have it given in return.
It’s only in books and fairy tales that love flows automatically from a parent to a child. I believe, in their way, all parents love their children at a basic level. They want to protect them, provide for them. They wish a better life for them. In all these ways, my parents loved me.
Dealing with a person is an entirely different matter. I was loud, opinionated and disrespectful. I still am, truth be told. It’s a somewhat ironic twist of fate that it was them who made me that way. They raised me to think for myself, voice my opinions and to know who was deserving of my respect. They simply forgot to point out that their guidelines should not apply to them.
My father I never had a chance with once I grew out of those stages where my defiance was cute. That didn’t stop me from trying. That never stopped me from caring either. I might not have respected him but I did love him, and like any child I craved his affection. When all else failed I begged and screamed for it. I drove myself to the brink of darkness and madness in the name of that love. To put it simply.
Despite the fact that I work hard at everything I do, how many decisions I’ve made as a dutiful daughter, I remain a black sheep in my mother’s eye. Logically, she knows I’m more steadfast than my brother, less prone to real trouble, more driven, all these things. But despite all the traits she admires in me, it’s the loud, angry ones she can’t forgive. I can’t say that she really likes me. Truthfully, I return the favor.
When I realized that they were both people with their own failings and that my self worth should not be wrapped around their every judgment, I swore that I was worth loving. I’ve loved two men since then, beautiful souls that have left their mark. I’ll be damned if “they” weren’t right, and despite my best intentions I have given love freely to people who could not love me, freely, in return.
