Posts Tagged ‘resentment

20
Dec
24

My Response to Aunt Resents Young Nieces (Ask Carolyn)

***

Ask Carolyn (Hax) column originally titled “Aunt resents young nieces’ big salaries.”

Resenting the Young and Wealthy is a woman in her 50s with an amassing pit of acid in her gut due to, among other concerns, two nieces who are making more money than she ever will, assuming it took less effort and certification to get that kind of salary. It’s such a steep rise to wealth that the aunt is speechless and bitter, feeling her numerous degrees and lesser pay have been a waste of time. She feels unable to interact with the two younger women.

Carolyn…well, I’m not exactly sure what Carolyn managed to say in response. But, from what I gather, she’s basically telling the aunt to speak from the heart about her discomfort in the moment. That seems…simple yet difficult enough.

I don’t think the aunt got much help with her situation. But, yes, being honest bridges the divide. It might also crack it wide open!

———————

Resenting… Can I call you Auntie Resentie?

If you can bear with me, put on a pot of tea and make yourself comfortable. I get a little long-winded.

At a previous job, I went through a similar–though surely more minor–reality check when certain financial matters shifted, providing new employees with the same rate of pay as I had earned over time with raises. I was climbing a mountain just to get where someone else started. That didn’t feel good. In fact, it made me feel worthless.

I also have two nieces who, from a young age, thanks to two parents who did fairly well for themselves, financially, became what I’d carelessly refer to as spoiled brats, just because they had more luxuries, including more expensive cameras while I struggled with a lowly 35mm film and the most basic digital cameras. While I was counting pennies to book my first trip overseas, they were traveling as a family and on their own, touring parts of the world I could only dream of seeing. [And, they didn’t invite me.]

I felt small and insignificant, though I was their uncle, older and taller. I had nothing to offer them that would satisfy their young interests. [Every Christmas season, I’d hear the Little Drummer Boy song in my head…because I had no gift to bring, and I’d see their eyes roll. Their uncle was “being cheap, again.”] I couldn’t and wouldn’t afford anything that could compare to the wealth they already had. I didn’t even have the motivation or desire to get more information on what the girls liked because I could already sense (perhaps in a paranoid way) the tension, the noses in the air. Holidays gift exchanges quickly became unpleasant moments I wanted to forget.

And, in frustration, I withdrew from that branch of my family for a long while. I just let my sister and her two very fortunate, globe-hopping kids live their life of luxury. I wrote them off as some royal family who popped up in the news but didn’t directly impact my life. I had to keep going my own humble way.

The winds of change blow, pandemics happen, and, suddenly, the family that drifted apart is slowly slipping back together. Financial windfall isn’t what it used to be. Nieces, as well as other members of the family, are facing a bit of bad luck. Globe-hopping is off the table, for now. People who once seemed so much higher and taller didn’t look so big, anymore.

Are we all suddenly one big happy family again? Heck no. [Insert non-mocking, sympathetic laughter.]

Even now, when I feel compelled to tell the stories of my humble travels and other experiences, I can hear the eyes rolling and feel the differences between what I did with what little I had…and what THEY did with all that they had. No matter what I say or do, I’ll always be “smaller” when compared to and in the presence of certain members of the family. I feel like I’ll never be the great explorer who puts his flag first on any landmark; I’ll always be “second,” at best. [That is a terrible way to live.]

What I am trying to say is that I think I can sympathize to some extent, though I don’t have multiple degrees. Take a deep breath and realize the world is changing beyond our control. As much as we’d like to say we have a grip on everything, that thinking is deceptive, an illusion. Your part in the world’s development is both big for yourself and small overall. Your greatest achievements, as rated by standards of your generation and those that follow, could be reduced to dust in a year.

[Which is why we have to value ourselves, as sad as that may sound if you don’t have an inflated ego. We have to find value in our own actions, words and achievements and ignore any rating the media or other voices give them. If you are an actress who never gets an award, are you still proud and/or happy with your acting? Or, did you eat crow and kiss feet, accepting roles that didn’t truly please you? Did you get your degrees to please someone other than yourself? If they mean something to you, there’s your wealth. It’s just not in “cryptocurrency.” If you have a dusty relic, take it to the Antique Road Show and hear it’s only worth a few bucks, do you pitch the worthless thing or retain its personal value?]

You’re a different generation. That’s the simplest and biggest answer to this discomfort. You are my Windows Vista laptop saying, “Hey! I’m just as good as that new model! I mean…we had a good run, right?”

[And, right now, my nephews are shouting, “What the (bleep) is Vista? Uncle (Writingbolt)? You’re so old.”]

You’re not exactly obsolete, but, within a relatively short amount of time, new models have swept the globe and are hastening things along. [And, actually, if I didn’t have an unfortunate accident with my Vista laptop, I’d still be using it, today. I love that little computer. It had…has style.] You’re still a good little computer that could. But, there are faster electric train engines, now.

Don’t get too caught up in who has more or less than you. Fortunes rise just as they fall. Times can and will change.

If you think these two are being “tone deaf,” it’s just as likely they will turn to you and say you are “clueless.”

If you persist in feeling diminished by their good fortune, I’d throw that intent to “guide them” out the window, right now. Whatever you have to offer them will sound like a dusty old joke. Your textbooks don’t matter to them. They’ve already had other education and are flying high above you, now. You can’t be Theodore Roosevelt, waving your big stick and hunting bears, and expect someone focused on a TikTok video to hear you. [Yet, if I was old Theo, I’d think up a strategy to get the attention I want.]

Instead of trying to be a mentor to two blossoming women, competing with countless others on the rise to some new status for all womankind, try to be their friend. This will require finding at least one common interest. [Can you manage that?] It turns out even the most wealthy struggle to retain good friends. You could try being the exception. [That is…if you are still more motivated to try than I am.]

Offer to spend time (and maybe a little money) with them, grab a drink, have lunch, etc. On such little ventures, you might–might–try to “educate” these young women. But, don’t expect much and anticipate backlash. Instead of “educating,” you could try talking about what matters to you and ask what matters to them. See if there is anything they are struggling with and try to offer a solution. [Again, don’t expect much.]

Just to be safe, pick or agree upon a location that isn’t too close to your heart; keep it casual. Do not spoil a favorite hangout. [And, don’t sully one of their favorites, either. Don’t go to their favorite restaurant and lose your mind when you see the price of one item or fuss over a tip.] If small meetings of minds turn out okay, you can try stepping up to something bigger like sharing a trip, road or otherwise. Remember. You’re not the “old, poor” aunt; you’re a friend. But, if they show you disrespect, you can remind them of your elder status (which they should respect, regardless of income, if they value family…if).

——

I’m going to hit the breaks and pause to say I probably have no business offering advice on this matter because I haven’t bridged the gap between me and my nieces. I’m not a success story speaking from experience; I’m not a bestselling author with a motivational-speaking empire at my command.

I should heed my own words. But, there are more cooks in the pot than just two nieces. I have more problems on my plate. The nieces are small fish in my sea of concern. Feel free to ignore my advice.

It’s difficult for me to even speak about the arrangement of uncles/aunts and nieces/nephews because I haven’t had the best relationship(s) with my own. I have always felt like a pauper and have been treated, by my own parents, like a child that should remain quiet in the presence of elders. I’ve been left to sit on couches, where I’m supposed to behave until someone needs me to “put on a show.” Even as an adult, any time I interject myself, I feel as if I am speaking out of place, inappropriately. I never feel fully welcome or appreciated. I’m either “too much” or too little. Some of my relatives are very loud and obnoxious; they may smoke and drink and sound bossy. And, I’m supposed to put up with that. Others are very quiet, peace-loving and can get upset by the slightest outburst from anyone in my immediate family, including me.

Though none of my relatives have made a strong effort to be my friend, for whatever reason, I am trying to be a better person with my nephews. I’m, in my own way, being a role model, even if no one seems to appreciate my efforts and don’t respect my limitations. I try to be the person I wish my aunts and uncles would be with me (and ignore the scolding of my other family members). I do my best to stay informed about what the boys like, curb what I think is wrong, share games and be open to discuss the things I wish adults would have shared with me (so I’d be more informed and less afraid of the unknown).

If they become the tech giants I fear they could be, like your nieces, I’ll likely lose touch and drift aside, as I did with my nieces. There’s only so much I can tolerate and do, even if that sounds like quitting. Hopefully, what I’ve contributed will bear fruit, and my nephews will respect me, even if I can’t comprehend what consumes them.

——-

If booking such meetings is too much to bear, if these nieces can’t even make you feel comfortable with that much, skip this suggestion and ignore them, completely. If you cannot get through to them without heartache, let them figure themselves out. If they have any heart, they’ll come around when they mature. [Maybe, when they’re ready, they can assist/mentor you, if you are receptive.]

Think of your nieces as two rich snobbish kids in your own school, instead of two heartless tech moguls wrapped in gold and jewels with cellphones strapped to their hands. They’re not ideal pals. But, maybe, you have something in common, yet, which can spark a friendship. Feel free to ignore them if they respond, “AS IF!”

If you find yourself forced to be in their company and they treat you unkindly, you have a right to be discontent and bitter. However, realize the bitterness you hang onto won’t improve the situation. That alone should keep you from turning into the witch on a withered hill. Out of mind might be a better strategy/outlook. If you can’t interact with them kindly, let them be and put them out of mind. As I did, go your own way and let THEM come looking for the missing piece in their family if they want it.

When you can’t figure out how to fit yourself into a family puzzle, let the family puzzle figure out how to fit you (in). If anyone asks why you’re distancing yourself, then, I guess, that’s when you have to come clean about your discontent and deal with the side effects. Until then, you’re a valid shape and part of the bigger picture, which is our world. Two nieces, who make you bitter, are just a small part of that bigger picture with which we still have to contend. Hopefully, you have other “pieces” you CAN interact with which keep you content and happy, so you don’t have to focus on the wealth of two.

05
Aug
22

Empty Words; Useless Family Conversations

***

Let me ask you, whoever actually takes the time to read what I write, what would you think, say, feel if I told you, “I love you, unconditionally. You’re very talented. You have a wonderful vocabulary and brain…but your living space is a pig mess. You are wasting your talents, doing whatever you are doing right now (which just might be honing your supposed talents, or just occupying your already troubled mind with some art therapy). You could look much better than you currently do. And, I wish you would let me help you fix yourself up…because, as you are, you’re not going to get the things in life you seek.”

Would you nod in compliance and promise to make improvements?

Would you curse and spit and throw things–including foul language–back at me, adding, “Who are you to talk like that about me!?” Would you make a public scene, damage property and risk being bagged by police?

Or, would you simply feel bile rise up the length of your throat and tension mount in your veins until you wish to scream and massage those pains away?

Would you struggle sleeping if someone repeatedly used such contrary words? Would you feel even worse if I violated your personal space, after several warnings and previous violations…er, forgiven (*cough* allowed to pass with trailing resentment)?

I’m inclined to go with option 3. But, that’s just me. [Or, are there actually others who feel the same?]

This is the crisis I face almost daily with my family, some members more than others. Not one member of my family leads an entirely healthy life. Not one lives up to the standards of my parents…who probably failed or broke their souls trying to live up to the standards of their parents. Yet, all are prone to being very opinionated without compassion, not even in an emotional/mental crisis situation. In fact, I am almost certain…certain members have a shady version of that lacking-emotional-awareness condition Elon Musk admits to having. They are loud-mouthed, ignorant Italians who are quick to ostracize me as a hothead out of control, even when I curb my own judging/opinionated impulses to attend their needs.

I don’t have the arsehole gene–at least, not anymore–that allows a person to spout insults and then excuse them as “hard truths.” If I ever do spout off, it’s after incessant prodding, much the way I took on my first childhood bully. He relentlessly criticized my young appearance behind my back. My brother told me to ignore him. But, every person has their limit of tolerance. And, when mine finally snapped, I turned and nailed the taller, older boy between the eyes without even seeing what I did; my eyes were dead and dark with anger, no mercy. The kid pushed one button too many times, reckless without conscience or respect, unwise beyond compare.

Even if I can spout off and call out what I think is wrong with my family–some would say I’m doing it right now–I take no pleasure in it. I don’t smile, afterward, like other members of my family do, making me think they are possessed. I once hit someone in the family for wickedly smirking after spouting off at me. I don’t applaud my action but stand by it. If I was too casual with such offense, I’d justify it all of the time, like those who “cuss like sailors” excuse their foul language. Instead, I have a raging conscience which occasionally overflows with stored up anger and frustration with how sick and stupid this world has become. Just writing or speaking about what bothers me makes me ill. Yet, if I don’t write this out, it seethes under my skin. Consider this my personal therapy session. Welcome to a violation of confidentiality.

Now, if you asked your family for a vacation from speaking to each other, just to have a few days without quarreling and listening to them bicker about you and everyone who’s not in the room, would your family respect that request or reject it and throw more hostile, threatening, stomach-turning dialogue in your already distressed face, like my family does?

I see myself in my father when he refuses to put up with “the silent treatment.” If anyone stops speaking to me, I tend to go after them and prod them to reconsider. But, if I ever sound like he does, I should be punched or shot by the person I am prodding. It’s just dumb, wrong and unfair. [Would any other member of my dear family confess the same?…wish to be punished for their stupidity? Only to fake a sad face and play for mercy, like a child saying they didn’t mean to do something. If I hit them, they’d go right back to verbally lashing at me or make threats.]

Another family aspect that has grown intolerable is gossip. My family struggles to speak with each other but seems to have no problem talking about others when they are not in the room. And, how am I to respond? Join in and be just as wickedly mousy? Speak without conscience about the one or ones who irritate the family member seeking my agreement (not my honest opinion)?

My parents, who might as well be divorced, constantly clash and then turn to me to take their side while venting about the other parent. My siblings, when they are not barking at their spouses/girlfriends/boyfriends in front of me, will confess what is not going so well with those spouses/girlfriends/boyfriends. Do I tell them to grow up and put on their big-people pants? Do I get loud, opinionated and tell them to “suck it up?” No. But, I DO (now) tell them–as calmly as possible–I can no longer tolerate the discussion, because the sheer weight of all that relationship conflict has further impacted my already troubled heart. I don’t offer my ear before they lay the load on me; I don’t get a choice.

Hearing about people not in the room feels like a plot to kill them. Anything I say could contribute to another fight or achieve nothing other than riling my family. Similarly, venting about someone not in the room leaves me with a somewhat guilty, unpleasant feeling. I understand how my family might desperately need counseling, but I am not the strongest person to take that job, right now. It is I who need a good counselor who won’t cost a fortune, limit me to an hour every week or two and pressure me to start taking risky medication. And, if we ALL need counseling, then is my whole family doomed? Cuz it sure feels like a wildfire about to consume the planet.

How many hours must I play counselor without being given the same breathing space to speak from my heart without confrontation and ridicule? How many times must I have the same argument about something I refuse to change, perhaps only because I’ve been poked and threatened so many times that I feel like a cat in a cage being poked with a stick.

When am I going to change? When am I going to change? When am I going to finally concede and live up to the standards of each and every judgmental member of my family? Never. And, the more they resent and prod me, the more I want to die. It may sound unsettling to hear/read, but I almost will getting fatally ill and letting illness take my life…because I can’t seem to do myself in (like so many famous faces have already done, leaving me rattled by their grim choices)…and I cannot find the courage to finally separate myself from my family, once and for all the remaining marbles in my precious yet deeply damaged head.

The mere fact that I cannot go to any member of the family with a seemingly simple problem/question without facing more challenges than a person on the lowest benefit rung of the USA insurance scheme…is disgusting. It’s always the wrong time…or too much talk…or me being a coward/baby. Yet, when any member of my family shows a need for help, do I ever…EVER dump upsetting words on them before lending a hand? No. Not unless they upset me, first. Not unless I’m already carrying a heap of resentment from recent conflicts.

I once asked a seemingly simple question about one line on a tax form. It took four days and three family members to realize I’d just have to find the answer another way, myself.

I helped my brother move a house-load of crap he could not refuse collecting from “friends” simply because the rest of the family was harping on him, and he’s my brother.

[Now, before you point out I called his collection crap, understand my family has a sickness for collecting which verges on hoarding. My brother is a “sentimental” sort who, like his (my) father, hates to see a “perfectly good” whatever get scrapped. But, without any logical plan and place for that thing, my family adds it to a collection, threatens storage space limits and goes on collecting until there is no more space and a purge is forced…only to pick up the habit, again, and restart the ugly cycle. No, the household wasn’t full of crap, but there were plenty of things no member of my family was ever going to use, including my displaced brother. Dare I say the smarter, more sensible solution would have been to let all of the “stuff” go wherever and to whoever it may attract and leave the ugly incident/scene with only the essentials to go on living independently, without requiring family to house a large portion of the hoarded items. And, isn’t it sickening to think my family would complain but comply with such assistance for my brother but not me? If my sister offered to help me, she would only do so to get the things SHE covets, as she is prone to do. Isn’t she sweet for helping herself out of my jam?]

Knowing he was already in distress, I didn’t turn and wave a finger at him, lecture him without pause for conscience. If he cried out “Enough!”…I wouldn’t keep badgering him. But, if the task had gotten to me, exhausted my tolerance, I might have opted to walk away. There were moments when I felt taxed, depleted, endangered by excessively heavy things while feeling concerned about a recently repaired elbow. I risked my well-being for him without argument. Can any member of my family do the same? Not yet, they haven’t.

Yet, how can I expect my kin to change? They’ve been this way so long, even before I found my voice, the very same voice I am–on one hand–praised for my intellect…and–on the other hand–insulted for talking too loud, too fast, too soft, too much. I’ve simply endured them so long, letting them push me to my breaking point. And, because I am so lousy at making friends, I feel without any other outlet than this blog. How sad.

Venting over.

Don’t be afraid to say something. But, be wary of doling out advice, especially if it is laced with critique. I am not in a tolerant mood.




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