I sent my parents a letter about three weeks ago, detailing some of my issues and frustrations, and I finally talked to them (separately) about it last night. They were difficult conversations, to say the least–but good. My dad gave me practical advice and validated my issues, while my mom got very emotional and questioned my issues. I welcomed both. It felt good to actually be talking about me–the real me. I felt transparent. I felt naked. I felt vulnerable. I haven’t felt like that around my parents in a long time; again, it was good.
Afterward, I cried a bit, but I didn’t feel very emotional. I don’t understand why, beecause the conversations were so emotionally-charged. I thought I’d want/need to binge, but I didn’t. I ate a salad and went to bed. I’m proud of myself for actually having an “adult” conversation with my parents. They now know what I’ve been going through, and my hope is that I can now lean on them for support.
My dad’s highlights–
“I used to be very shy and had trouble communicating with people too, but my job demanded it. I found that I could use running as a form of mediation to help me relax and deal with my issues.”
“Keep your head up; you’ll get through this.”
My mom’s highlight’s–
“I don’t know what to say to you. I’m scared to say anything because it won’t be the right thing to say.”
“I thought we had a close relationship”
“You dwell too much on the past; you just have to let things go and live in the present.”
“I don’t know why you just can’t live your life like everyone else.”
“I’m sorry for getting angry. I’m hurt and frustrated and don’t know what to say. I feel like I failed you.”