how strong are family ties?

 Today is the 2nd day of the 28th week, the 7th day of the 7th month, the 188th day of 2025 [with only 170 shopping days until Christmas], and:

• Chocolate Day
• Father-Daughter Take a Walk Together Day
• Global Forgiveness Day
• Independence Day:  The Solomon Islands from the UK in 1978
• National Day of Rock 'N Roll
• National Dive Bar Day
• National Macaroni Day
• National Strawberry Sundae Day
• Tell the Truth Day
• World Kiswahili Language Day
• and Voyager 1 is ~23h 07m 12s of light travel time from Earth

Quote of the day:
"The pain of our own bodies, hearts, and minds and the pain in the world is not going away. It’s just a fact of life. We’re not going to outrun the pain, but we can learn to actually practice with mitigating that pain if that’s possible"
~  Sebene Selassie, “Finding Belonging in the Body” 

I didn't come from a Norman Rockwell family.

I was an only child, the only grandchild on my mother's side and the old of six grandchildren on my father's side.  My parents were very strict and had high expectations - I was quickly punished for infringements on the rules/norms, and a "C" on the report card was not tolerated.  

I didn't know my father very well - he had little in common with his pudgy uncoordinated daughter who was far more interested in books than in sports.

My mother didn't relate to me either - she was pretty, slim, and had been popular in school.  Having a daughter who was socially inept with a "bay window" was not on her dance card.  I know they both dutifully loved me, but I don't think either of them liked me very much.  

My father and mother were ill-suited, and when I was in 8th grade, he took off for parts unknown - after about five years we learned he was in Alaska.  So my mother went back to work, and in all fairness to her, I did little around the house to help her.  And she resented the fact that I looked so much like my father and had some of his mannerisms, and that I was going to go to college when she was never given that option.  On my part, I resented that everything had to be done her way and wasn't above making that clear.  

My mother was one of those people who would make you feel small, totally eviscerating any pretense you might have of being a thoughtful person.  Things happened that widened the rift after I graduated from high school:

• I won a full scholarship to a college in Virginia - including room/board - and lost it when my mother refused to submit either a personal financial statement or tax return.  The guidance counselor drew up a simple statement for her to sign in lieu of the requested documentation, stating that she couldn't afford to send me to college, and she refused to do even that.  She said if my grades were good enough, I could get a scholarship without proving need.  That obviously wasn't true and I ended up working my way through Towson while living at home.  When I worked during the summer to save up, as I had since I turned 15, I had to pay rent instead of saving anything.

•  It didn't matter that I was over 18, paying rent, and working my way through college.  I was living in her house and was expected to obey her rules with very strict dress codes and curfews because she couldn't trust me.  She wouldn't even let me drive the "family" car and since she couldn't take me off her car insurance once I had my license, I had to pay for the increase as well.

In the fall of 1971, after a bitter argument over whether or not dishes could dry on their own in the rack and be put away or had to be hand-dried with a towel, I left and moved in with the guy I was dating.

My mother refused to speak to me again.  

She didn't come to my wedding to Bob [yes she was invited], she didn't get in touch when I had Tommy [yes she got a birth announcement], she didn't care when I went to Alaska and stayed with my father, she didn't come to my wedding to Chuck [yes she was invited], she didn't get in touch when Tommy had open heart surgery at three years old, she didn't get in touch when I had Gem [yes she got a birth announcement], and at that point I gave up trying.   

When Frank lost his mother, and wept at her graveside because he felt they had never been as close as they could've been, he was determined that my mother and I would reconcile.  He made it happen and she finally got to meet her grandchildren and come to know them.  We got along okay, both of us finding it much easier to deal with each other as adults, at least until the dementia took her, at which point she cut me off again.  I was allowed to see her in the nursing home the week before she died though.

Unfortunately, both of my kids are estranged from their fathers.  

Tommy has had some contact with Bob, but Gem and her father are completely out of touch.  I'm just grateful that with all the mistakes I have made with them through the years, they still want to have a relationship with me

And what has precipitated this reflection?  An article that I ran across a couple weeks ago, and saved, wondering what I would say about it....   Should you ever cut times with your parents?  I'm not sure that I answered that question, for myself or my kids, but it is something I have pondered upon more than once....

NOTE:  this post was actually written before the 26th of June, but was edited and published afterwards.  I feel the need to re-start writing daily.  Don't know if it will help or not though.... 

https://carolhtucker.substack.com/p/the-end-of-the-battle