The Yule before I was 21, I went home (well, to the folks' place) for the holidays. My parents bickered and sniped incessantly the whole time. The day before we left to take me back to Atlanta I sat them down in the living room and I said (more or less), "Look, you never let us fight like that when we were growing up. I expect the same respect."
And I didn't go home for six straight months, where I would've gone three or four times in that space before.
When I finally went back, it was to move out of the dorms, and into the house I would call home until after I graduated. When I left home that time, I took darn near everything I would ever want from that place... and it never really felt like home again, not home home. From then on Atlanta was home... at least until I moved out here.
Several years later I went back for my little sister's wedding. Sis had made the mistake of collaborating with Mom, and both of'em were on edge. Sis at least had the luxury of abandoning ship gracefully, as she had a honeymoon to pursue. Me, I got roped into a major amount of cleanup, and given a lot of grief about it into the bargain... and decided I'd had enough. On the way back to the church to finish my chores I called the airline and moved my flight up, and when I was done with the heavy lifting I said goodbye to Dad and drove straight to the airport and flew home that very evening.
Two weeks passed.
Mother finally called and reasonably graciously apologised, and we've been friends ever since. But at least from my POV it's been friends much more than it's been a mother-son relationship... I've particpated in one family squabble and one well-intentioned conspiracy since then; the one turned out fine, and the other... well, we'll know Sunday evening. (It's Dad's Christmas present. :) Other than that, when the rest of'em get to fussing, I stay out of it.
I think the point of all this ramble is that I set the terms of how I'm going to relate to kinfolk. (At first 250 and now 2500 miles, I can afford to.) (Mother taught me that lesson by example; the minute she graduated high school, she got out from under her mom's thumb, and benefitted greatly from it; my uncle, bless his heart, started by moving in next door to his father-in-law... and has been through, what, three divorces now? so I knew up front that going 250 miles away to school was Definitely The Right Thing To Do.)
Yes, they're kinfolk. But for me that doesn't make it any different (well, much) from anyone else; if they're bad news I don't associate with'em. I think that chat that Yule I had was more or less my rite of passage, fair warning to all and sundry that I was a grownup, and part of that meant to me that I got to choose who and how I would associate, or not.
Not once has any of the kinfolk ever said anything about it, not on that side anyway. I still get the good-natured "move back home" pitch from jenkitty's mom but it's not high-pressure, and I'll put up with that much for being on good terms with them. (If it did get to be high-pressure I might have to Say Something.)
Insanity, my late SO told me, is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. I try very hard not to commit insanity these days.
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And I didn't go home for six straight months, where I would've gone three or four times in that space before.
When I finally went back, it was to move out of the dorms, and into the house I would call home until after I graduated. When I left home that time, I took darn near everything I would ever want from that place... and it never really felt like home again, not home home. From then on Atlanta was home... at least until I moved out here.
Several years later I went back for my little sister's wedding. Sis had made the mistake of collaborating with Mom, and both of'em were on edge. Sis at least had the luxury of abandoning ship gracefully, as she had a honeymoon to pursue. Me, I got roped into a major amount of cleanup, and given a lot of grief about it into the bargain... and decided I'd had enough. On the way back to the church to finish my chores I called the airline and moved my flight up, and when I was done with the heavy lifting I said goodbye to Dad and drove straight to the airport and flew home that very evening.
Two weeks passed.
Mother finally called and reasonably graciously apologised, and we've been friends ever since. But at least from my POV it's been friends much more than it's been a mother-son relationship... I've particpated in one family squabble and one well-intentioned conspiracy since then; the one turned out fine, and the other... well, we'll know Sunday evening. (It's Dad's Christmas present. :) Other than that, when the rest of'em get to fussing, I stay out of it.
I think the point of all this ramble is that I set the terms of how I'm going to relate to kinfolk. (At first 250 and now 2500 miles, I can afford to.) (Mother taught me that lesson by example; the minute she graduated high school, she got out from under her mom's thumb, and benefitted greatly from it; my uncle, bless his heart, started by moving in next door to his father-in-law... and has been through, what, three divorces now? so I knew up front that going 250 miles away to school was Definitely The Right Thing To Do.)
Yes, they're kinfolk. But for me that doesn't make it any different (well, much) from anyone else; if they're bad news I don't associate with'em. I think that chat that Yule I had was more or less my rite of passage, fair warning to all and sundry that I was a grownup, and part of that meant to me that I got to choose who and how I would associate, or not.
Not once has any of the kinfolk ever said anything about it, not on that side anyway. I still get the good-natured "move back home" pitch from
Insanity, my late SO told me, is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. I try very hard not to commit insanity these days.