Filial obedience, and how to avoid it
Nov. 21st, 2006 08:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
resonantHere at the beginning of the holiday season -- that annual celebration of human relationships -- is the time when I want to say:
People on my friends list. I like you. I want you to quit giving your parents permission to browbeat you.
Those of you with utterly, inescapably toxic parents probably already know that most advice isn't useful to you, including what I'm about to say. But those of you whose parents are a little critical or interfering but not actually committable whackjobs, listen up.
There are about ten people on my flist who are having the exact same argument with one or both of their parents. The argument goes like this.
Parent: Your finances are a mess. (Or fill in the criticism of your choice: Your house is dirty. Your beloved is kind of immature. Your kids need jackets on. You're fat. Your best friend ... isn't she a little ... mannish? Such mood swings, dear; you should really do something about them.)
You [defensively]: No, they're not. Yes, they are, but there's a good reason for it. Look, everything's fine. I've got it all under control. Listen, let me explain to you about the finances -- see, buying a house is a really excellent investment in the housing market here, and our banker feels that the level of debt isn't too much for our income -- see, I'll show you the letter that says so -- and in the last year we've reduced our credit card debt by more than ten thousand dollars, and so we ...
Parent: Ten thousand dollars?! You owed ten thousand dollars?! Why, that's criminal. In my day, we didn't buy things we couldn't afford.
You [testily]: Well, maybe in your day you didn't have student loans from law school, huh? Maybe in your day you were living with Gramps out on the farm insteaad of trying to keep an apartment in San Francisco -- you have no idea what the rent prices are out here, and --
Parent: Well, perhaps you should live within your means, dear. You eat out at least three times a week, and --
You: Shut up! You can't control my life! Just mind your own business!
Right. Now. Here's something to remember:
When you give your parents a lot of information on your life, what you're really doing is trying to convince them that you're right, because what you really want is to hear that they approve of what you're doing with your life.
You've got to cut that out.
You can't make them approve of you.
Stop asking for their approval. Stop giving them ammunition.
"But what do I say when they say those awful things, then?"
Respond to all criticism and personal questions with vague answers that sound agreeable but are basically meaningless, and then quickly change the subject, ideally to something you know they can't shut up about. (Did you move around a lot when Dad was in the Navy? Is Branson really worth the trip? Did you get good service on the plane ride here?)
Now. Here's the way that conversation ought to go.
Parent: Your finances are a mess.
You: How interesting. You want tea or Coke to drink?
Parent: Really, dear, you could just drink water, and then maybe your grocery bills wouldn't be so high and you wouldn't be in so much debt.
You: You may be right. I'm having tea; sure I can't get you anything? Well, sit down and make yourself at home.
Parent: Well, your living room is certainly a mess.
You: [light laugh] That may be. Is Great-Uncle Horace still dating that showgirl from Duluth?
People on my friends list. I like you. I want you to quit giving your parents permission to browbeat you.
Those of you with utterly, inescapably toxic parents probably already know that most advice isn't useful to you, including what I'm about to say. But those of you whose parents are a little critical or interfering but not actually committable whackjobs, listen up.
There are about ten people on my flist who are having the exact same argument with one or both of their parents. The argument goes like this.
Parent: Your finances are a mess. (Or fill in the criticism of your choice: Your house is dirty. Your beloved is kind of immature. Your kids need jackets on. You're fat. Your best friend ... isn't she a little ... mannish? Such mood swings, dear; you should really do something about them.)
You [defensively]: No, they're not. Yes, they are, but there's a good reason for it. Look, everything's fine. I've got it all under control. Listen, let me explain to you about the finances -- see, buying a house is a really excellent investment in the housing market here, and our banker feels that the level of debt isn't too much for our income -- see, I'll show you the letter that says so -- and in the last year we've reduced our credit card debt by more than ten thousand dollars, and so we ...
Parent: Ten thousand dollars?! You owed ten thousand dollars?! Why, that's criminal. In my day, we didn't buy things we couldn't afford.
You [testily]: Well, maybe in your day you didn't have student loans from law school, huh? Maybe in your day you were living with Gramps out on the farm insteaad of trying to keep an apartment in San Francisco -- you have no idea what the rent prices are out here, and --
Parent: Well, perhaps you should live within your means, dear. You eat out at least three times a week, and --
You: Shut up! You can't control my life! Just mind your own business!
Right. Now. Here's something to remember:
When you give your parents a lot of information on your life, what you're really doing is trying to convince them that you're right, because what you really want is to hear that they approve of what you're doing with your life.
You've got to cut that out.
You can't make them approve of you.
Stop asking for their approval. Stop giving them ammunition.
"But what do I say when they say those awful things, then?"
Respond to all criticism and personal questions with vague answers that sound agreeable but are basically meaningless, and then quickly change the subject, ideally to something you know they can't shut up about. (Did you move around a lot when Dad was in the Navy? Is Branson really worth the trip? Did you get good service on the plane ride here?)
Now. Here's the way that conversation ought to go.
Parent: Your finances are a mess.
You: How interesting. You want tea or Coke to drink?
Parent: Really, dear, you could just drink water, and then maybe your grocery bills wouldn't be so high and you wouldn't be in so much debt.
You: You may be right. I'm having tea; sure I can't get you anything? Well, sit down and make yourself at home.
Parent: Well, your living room is certainly a mess.
You: [light laugh] That may be. Is Great-Uncle Horace still dating that showgirl from Duluth?