Chicken/Egg, Pot/Kettle

A few moments ago, I was randomly idlying on Facebook (some things will never change) when I came across the impassioned statement of a friend of mine expressing a sharp conviction not to live with her parents. The various comments that other people had written, ranging from 'keep your head down, you'll get over it' to 'yeah, move out, move out now' reminded me of my own, somewhat similar experiences. Sure, I have never really had to live with my parents after the age of eighteen, where a smart combination of begging, student loans, and odd-jobs managed to keep me through, but I had always wondered what it would be like to live with my parents as an adult. Would things be easier? Harder?

All parents have expectations of their children; the degree of said expectations ranges from 'You will be president of the United States' to 'oh, just try not to kill yourself.' However, expectations still exist and abound and it is prudent for us, as children and as future parents, to try an understand why our parents think and feel in certain ways. Oftentimes, the generation gap between us makes any form of discourse somewhat difficulty, though I believe such a thing is mitigated should we be raised with a sense of intellectual curiosity and understanding.

But I for one could never live with my parents again past the age of eighteen. The idea of now constantly having to be beholden to someone else, especially during the younger rebellious years, puts a dampener on a great deal of things. To be sure, the support and love our parents give us (and their invaluable and sometimes overly critical advice) is crucial; however, it is also crucial for us to make our own decisions and determine through that, what it is we wish to achieve, attain, and assimilate. Though this differs from person to person, for me personally, I required a large amount of freedom and space in order to successfully discover my own desires; now, I can't return back to a place where, despite free food and laundry, I would have to be obedient and listen.

True, we are all beholden to other things; to our friends, our loved ones, our government, our society. However, parents are perhaps the stickiest of all such influences. In almost all cases, I believe that the love between a parent and a child supersedes a great deal except a child's urge to develop. Do we perhaps resent our parents for having such strong influences over us, when we appear not to have the same towards them? Maybe it is this sort of feeling, the idea that we have been shaped and raised and altered before our own conscious minds have even developed, that leads at least some if not all of us to become frustrated with our parents. It is not simply because they are 'people that irritate us,' it is perhaps the nature of the relationship that irritates us.

Yet, as I reflect over my own life, I have little doubt that my presence influenced my mother; perhaps even to a higher degree than she has influenced me. Children always change things, and their parents are no exception. For a person to suddenly now be responsible for a helpless little baby, placed with the burdens of comforter, disciplinarian, and homemaker, a change must be invoked. Thus, before our parents place their hopes, dreams, and aspirations on our shoulders and shape our minds to their ideal view, the very act of our birth has already shaped them.

Just like how the birth of our own children will one day, shape us to become new people as well.

Today is sunny and I woke up too early. Therefore, I am lazy.

Cheers.