In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Mountaintops and Valleys.”
I don’t have much contact with my family of origin. It hasn’t always been like this. But the years of watching the diseases of addiction and codependency have taken their toll. Instead of getting up in the morning and trying to make the most of the day, they would rather choose to be miserable.
One of the last times this happened I remember having a great day with my daughter, who is a senior in high school. We had went out for lunch. We had talked about her plans for the future. She was happy. I was happy. I was pleased and proud that she has a good head on her shoulders to take her into adulthood. Then I received a phone call from my family. They get angry when I don’t want to get sucked into the never ending drama of addiction. Somehow they think it should be more proper to be sad and angry all the time. In these phone calls, there is rarely one question asking about how me and my family might be doing.
There was a point in my parenthood journey where I made a resolution that I would try my best not to let my family of origin’s drama not spill into my kids’ lives. I wasn’t going to get involved in hours of phone calls. I wasn’t going to get myself in anymore situations where holidays were ruined. I’d like to keep my kids out of the valley of codependent misery as much as possible. Some people think I am selfish for my attitude. Oh well.