What Already?

Waxing a bit philosophical about the holidays, or more justly about spending a few days at my parent's house, the house where I grew up, sleeping in the bedroom that was mine until I was a teenager. My parents are devoted to that house, which now seems small, cramped, claustrophobic, but not sure how much of that is truly the space. The irony is that my brother, who did what he was supposed to do (married, two kids, house in the 'burbs, successful medical practice) has a superficial relationship with my parents, while I, who went down a lot of roads my parents didn't understand, well, let's just say we're a lot more real. I came from a family where, if you didn't talk about it, it didn't happen, so any conflict can be pushed under the rug. Somehow, I ended up with a big mouth and a little filter. My parents are also incredible packrats (every year I have the conversation with my mom about cleaning out the never-purged medicine cabinet. Never gonna happen), and I live in a relatively spartan apartment, and wouldn't have it any other way.

So, I've decided that therapy is in order, for my incessent need to choose inaccessible, commitment-phobic, or just plain wrong relationships. I know it's so that I won't actually have to face a real relationship myself, the rejection coming even before the romance. It's just not right, and I'm the only one that can fix it.

Love yourselves babies.