Normal

I've always held true the notion that children are a product of their parents. In some cases it's more apparent than others but on the whole the way we are socialized from a very young age determines how we view the world around us as adults, with many other factors playing important roles as well of course. As a kid, I knew what a functional household looked, sounded, and felt like. From a young age, I knew what love was. And from spending so much time at my best friend's house, I knew what love wasn't. It's scary to compare my household from to now. Were we the only things holding my parent's relationship together? How did an environment filled with such love and joy disintegrate to this? The hardest part is every time I go home, I expect things to be like they used to be. I expect everyone to be their normal selves. I have such a tight grasp on this concept of "normal" and the idea of returning back to it. But what if what things are like now is the normal? I mean, how long have I been oblivious the transformation to such hostility and bitterness? Or, how long have they been sheltering it from me? It's absolutely tragic to me- the way my mom lives day in and day out, her frustration and anxiousness and depression. It's a thought that passes my mind more often than any other thought. Sometimes in anger, sometimes sadness, but mostly fear. I share my mom's same caring and selfless characteristics. I never want to be trapped the way that she is. I don't want to dread the next day. I don't want to die with someone and still feel completely alone, and empty and unappreciated. If anyone were to ever ask, I would say yes, I did grow up in a functional loving household. I would say I know what love and marriage is supposed to be and how a family is supposed to work. And I wouldn't be lying. I would, however be lying if I told them that was still the case. Because what I come home to now days is far from "normal".