I've been reading a lot in blogs lately about dysfunctional families. It's Christmas season that sets these things off -- a time when our expectations most exceed reality and disappointment in non perfection is most acute. Calling any family dysfunctional is being unnecessarily redundant. Find me a family that's functional -- go on, I dare ya. Movies and TV don't count; neither does any family you haven't been a part of. Too easy to be fooled by a good facade when a stranger is present. If you're looking for perfection anywhere, you're doomed to failure.
I'm watching one of my favorite movies -- Meet Me in St. Louis. It has just about the most goldenly perfect depiction of family life ever seen on the silver screen with none of the grating mawkishness of the Brady Bunch. Most times I watch it in a happy glow of nostalgia for an era and family which never existed, an idealistic glimpse of what everyone wishes their family were like. There were a few times I watched it tearfully, sad that my family could never measure up to the Smiths.
But, you know, even the Smiths had their moments of discord and familial failings.
Agnes runs off on Halloween leaving her sister Tootie behind because she's too little. And talk about juvenile delinquency! What those children are allowed to get up to -- bonfires, for heaven's sake.
Mr. Smith doesn't consult anyone in his family before deciding to accept a new position which means moving his family to New York. Everyone is pretty upset. Most of them stalk out in a huff (although the parents' singing draws everyone back, determined to make the best of it).
Rose and Esther are mortified when their dates fall through, and they face the disgrace of having to be escorted to the Christmas ball by their brother. They narrowly miss being scarred for life.
Yet at the end of the film they're a united and happy family.
I know there are a lot of families out there with some very serious problems -- drug/alcohol abuse, physical and emotional abuse, neglect, mental illness. I'm not taking that lightly. But now everyone has decided, via mega viewings of Dr. Phil and Montel, that they're expert analysts. They study their family, find it lacking, and blame their problems on negative and non supportive kin.
Most people have been damaged by their family. The main exceptions are the alphas -- the golden children who grow up to rule the pride. Or those few who are exceptionally resilient and thick skinned.
I'm no exception. My main problem, from always being the odd one, the belittled one, is a lack of self-confidence. When it seems like someone is snubbing me, when someone who has been friendly suddenly turns cold, my first thought is usually that I've done something wrong. It worries me. I feel hurt. I wonder if I should approach them about it, or just cut and run. It's compounded by my difficulty picking up subtle hints. I don't: I need a brick to hit me (or someone to come right out and say things clearly and distinctly).
Then I try to look at it from another perspective. Maybe it's the other fellow's fault. Maybe he has his own problems, his own inadequacies. Maybe she hasn't had much practice relating to people.
I'm far from shrugging off situations like this, but I'll continue to work at it. And I won't bemoan my dysfunctional family. When I go to Christmas dinner, I'll remind myself that they are insecure people who have to put me down to feel good about themselves. Not My Problem unless I choose to make it so.
No comments:
Post a Comment