Burst Pipes
What was your mom and dad’s relationship like?
Actually, hold on.
What I’m really asking is this…
Did their relationship have an impact on who you grew up to be?
(Obviously, the answer is “hell yes”)
In the unlikely event that anyone answered “no,” it means they are either:
A) Little orphan Annie,
B) A robot pretending to be human.
or
C) Lying to themselves,
We…the non-robots…all come from somewhere. The relationship (or lack thereof) between your parents was a big part of what shaped you. And, of course, the same goes for me. I’m actually the product of an arranged marriage. It’s a little tidbit that used to pop up in conversations sometimes. Y’know, back in the days when we actually had gatherings and interacted with people.
A random dude at a party (also known as “a rando”) once told me a story about his parents. Then he asked a question about mine. Which led to the following exchange:
ME
My parents actually had an arranged marriage. In fact, they only went on one “date” before their w—
RANDO
Ha, that’s crazy! But I bet it still worked out pretty well for them, right?
ME
Well, th—
RANDO
Wait, can you do their accent? I have an Indian buddy and it’s HILARIOUS when he imitates his dad!
(That’s a true story, by the way)
(Miraculously, my brain didn’t melt afterwards)
But, yeah, we do all come from somewhere.
Whether we dwell on it or not, our past is always with us. We store a huge collection of home movies inside our brains, don’t we? It comes with us everywhere we go. Some images get fuzzy over time. But other moments stay crystal clear forever…
My earliest memory is sitting outside the bathroom door listening to my mom cry. I remember clutching my little blanket under one arm…and holding my best friend (a teddy bear) under the other. His name was Nunu. Even though he was freaky looking with a missing eye…he was good at keeping me safe. My deformed best friend and I sat outside that door for what felt like forever. I tried to reach the knob once or twice. But mostly I just sat there. I was desperate for my mom to come out so I could hand her my bear and he could make her happy.
In the years that followed, my little kid brain spent a lot of energy trying to make sense of my parents’ relationship…
- Why couldn’t my dad just be nice to her?
- Why did she act one way with everyone else but get so different around him?
- Was it even possible for adults to be happy?
I figured something must happen to people when they grow up and I just didn’t understand it yet.
Over time, kids start to gather more information about their parents. So I tried my best to assemble the puzzle pieces. I knew that my mom grew up in a loving family. She was shy and bookish – her formative years were filled with lots of reading and traveling. Including a nice 2-year stretch in Paris along the way. Her sister was a bit of a bully…but, other than that, she had a great childhood.
My dad? Well, he was more complicated. Apparently, when your family is slaughtered and you’re seen as some kind of outsider by the people who raise you…it’s not exactly a recipe for happiness. There were only a couple of pictures of him as a boy. But, even then, my dad looked like he held the weight of the world on his shoulders. Even when forcing a little smile, those eyes were always so sad. Like there was an empty hole inside that he didn’t know how to fill.
But life moves on whether the skies are cloudy or clear…
It was time for my mom to get married. She was about to turn 20. A former neighbor contacted her parents to see if there was any interest in a certain sad-eyed 25-year-old with a good head of hair.
(In reality, he was 29. They were eager for him to start his life – and needed the cash infusion that a dowry would bring – so they fudged his age)
And, with that, the one and only “date” my parents ever went on was set. But my mom didn’t actually know it was a date. The families met for lunch and the two singles were given seats next to each other. The bookish girl only looked up from her cup of chai a few times. And, well, the sad-eyed man wasn’t much of a talker.
After the “date” was over, the girl grabbed her favorite book as her parents sat down next to her. They eagerly asked what she thought of the boy from lunch…
“You mean that man?”
When they brought up the subject of marriage, a lifetime of shyness was all she had in her holster. So, soon after that, 2 quiet people without much interest in a wedding (or each other) became an instant-brew family.
I imagine a few of you have been in relationships with a significant other who didn’t respect you. Or maybe vice versa. Well, for the next 40 years, that’s the type of marriage my parents had.
A couple of winters ago, a pipe burst in their home. It became a mold issue that forced them into a hotel room for an extended stay. Their relationship had survived a long time in the roominess of a big house…but squeezing them into a single room was too much to ask.
When the pipe burst, my parents’ marriage burst along with it.
(I honestly believe it’s the best thing that ever happened to both of them)
Do they realize that yet? Of course not.
But they finally get to choose a life. To figure out what they want. Not just have something assigned to them. Better late than never.
Remember how I asked if your parents’ relationship impacted who you became? Well here’s my answer to that question…
I learned an important lesson from my mom and dad. Something I see in so many people each day. It’s that almost everyone’s sadness is rooted in the same basic belief:
“I am not enough.”
Man, it’s such a simple sentence. But those 4 words spread like wildfire through our brains and eventually take over our lives.
Just look around…
- From the awkward girl too scared to speak to any of the “cool kids” at school…
- To the arrogant millionaire who’d feel like a “loser” without his Porsche…
- To the pretty lady who believes the only thing special about her is her body…
- To the boy without a family who thinks nobody could ever love him…
- To the wife who spent her 20s, 30s, 40s, and 50s waiting for approval…
- And on and on.
It’s everywhere, guys.
The concept of “I am not enough” is burned into our heads from an early age. We all buy into it. From the sheepish to the polished to the cocky. Every race, gender, and religion. We all scurry around trying to prove our worth in a bunch of weird and different ways. So, what I learned from my parents’ relationship is this…
We hold onto old beliefs and insecurities simply because we’re so used to doing it.
(And maybe we actually need a pipe or two to burst along the way)
