Blended Angst

Growing up, my example for what a blended family looks like was The Brady Bunch, a television sitcom that depicted ever-patient parents, and six children whose disagreements were cute, story-worthy antics.  It was all
very entertaining and appealing.  th

The irony was that at the time I was (unbeknownst to me) part of a blended family myself – one that did not in any way resemble the eight adorable Brady’s.  In fact, much of what I experienced during my childhood years was chaos and dysfunction – something I am only now, in adulthood, deciphering.

Almost eleven years ago, I remarried, throwing my children and his into family mode.   We had agreed, while dating, that kids came first – a decree which protects children during the courtship phase of a relationship, but threatens to destroy it once the marriage is finalized.

Unlike the Brady’s, our children ranged from eleven to twenty-nine at the time of our nuptials, and many were either out of the nest or just about to be – a situation that would, from the outside, appear to be congenial.

Grown-up children, however, can be just as disruptive to the family as dependent ones.  Such is the case that has prompted this post.

My oldest daughter, now thirty-three and a mother herself, is strong-minded and determined, not unlike my husband, and a clash between the two is common.    As the mother and wife of the parties involved, I am inevitably caught in the middle – a fault, I am coming to realize, that is totally my own.

Despite my efforts to break the habit, I am an incorrigible people-pleaser.  When either party takes a stand in opposition to the other, I want to rush in the middle and negotiate a plea bargain.  I want them both to be happy.  I can see both sides and am personally affronted that they cannot.  Inevitably, taking such a position only places me in the line of fire, with one or both of them angry at me.

When will I learn?  th-1

Being a family (any family) means that there will be differences of opinion (okay), moments of dissension (also okay), and times of peace (even if short-lived).  It is all part of growing and bonding together.

Life is not all always a Disney ride.  So why do I feel so compelled to try make it one?

As in all things, I learn one step at a time.  I backed out this time, set a boundary and said: “I am not involved”.  And guess what?  They didn’t kill each other.  They both walked away mad, and then came to a compromise, and the problem was resolved – something that might not have happened, had I kept poking my nose into the mix.

Trust the process, V.J., I need to keep telling myself.  We all have the right to learn in our way, and a meddling mother/wife only delays progress.

I suspect this people-pleasing addiction has more to do with my past – wanting to rewrite family dynamics – than it does with current issues.  The lines between the past and the present are always so blurred.


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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

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