A Writer's Notebook, Day Seven-Hundred-And-Seventy-Six

It is another of those nights when I am uncertain what to put in this space.  I took a bit of a relaxed approach to writing today, it being a holiday, and only did a small amount of work.  I spent much of the day cooking, and am rather worn out from it all, to be honest.  My mother and brother did a bit of the work, but the majority fell to Melissa and I.  Both of us joked to each other about how it might have been nice if we had been quarantined from them and had our own Thanksgiving, but, even with all the crap, I do love and appreciate Mom and Eugene.  I am thankful for many things they have done, and the real problem I have is feeling that they do not recognize me for who I am, and are not willing to consider my perspective.  I am thankful for the feeling that, at least to some extent, they are recognizing problems that have long existed, and might be open to working towards making them better.  In truth, I am quite skeptical about all of it, still, but they are still my family to me, with all that this implies.  It has been quite difficult to deal with them recently, and their has been much that has happened that has caused a great deal of hurt.  I know I am not the only one to feel that, but I don't think that they recognize the legitimacy of my feelings, or the impact of their choices and actions.  I'm not, of course, perfect, and it is easy for any of us to be lost in our own needs and desires, but I hope to, at least, consider their perspective and attempt to be honest about things from my point of view.  To offer an example, I expressed to my mother that Melissa and I were concerned about buying a house in her neighborhood, and asked that she be understanding and respect our boundaries.  She agreed, and commented that we were being silly, but it became clear on the day we moved in, that this was not going to work.  As soon as we told her we did not want to program the garage opener for our house into her car (the day we moved in), it was entirely obvious that she was terribly hurt and offended.  It feels to me as if she thinks my values and boundaries have to be identical to her own, that anything which matters to me and not to her is irrelevant, or, at best, silly.  I do not think she is aware of this, but it seems to be very clear, and it is also obvious that my brother has picked up on this.  I am glad to be more aware of these things, if nothing else, and, as I said, I do believe that my mother and brother have a genuine desire for things to get better.  I am thankful for that, I just hope that their notion of things being better isn't just the same without me complaining.  

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