Well of resentment

I don't know exactly how it happened but my parents have become monsters in my mind. This will sound strange because it's not like they're bad people really, and all of us are on speaking terms.

My dad once aspired to be an accountant but dropped out of community college when he realized his classmates weren't getting jobs. He became a fire fighter and worked his way up the rank (he got pretty high up) then retired at 47 and now sells equipment to the local fire and police stations.

My mom works for the utility company. She was a cashier at a grocery store when she met my dad. In her free time she plays Yahoo Games and does needlepoint.

My parents raised me well, I think. They raised me in a stable home, a home they own. They sent me to a fairly good public school and funded my college education. When I turned 12 or 13 they bought me an electronic word processor because they knew I liked to write. When I got to college, they bought me a laptop computer.

Now here I am. I have a job. A writing job. I haven't asked them, but I suspect my parents are satisfied by the outcome of my life thus far. College graduate with a professional job.

But I hate my job. I hate that I am still living in the place I was born and haven't really gotten to see or do much with my life. I hate that I have already reached the learning threshold at my job and peaked in less than five years.

Last night, Chris looked up from where he was mixing canned chicken and olives in a concoctioin he called "dinner" and said, "So you've never really rebelled against your parents, huh? How funny. We're so different like that. I never did anything my mom wanted me to do."

Chris, though, has his own motives for encouraging a rebellion. He thinks I should just move with him to the mainland where we can both find better jobs.

I on the other hand have avoided doing anything that would piss off my parents. That's not true. I've avoided doing things that would REALLY piss off my parents and neglected to tell them about the little fuck-ups along the way if I could get away with it. Not that there have been many really, all things considered.

Anyway, people who I have shared this internal struggle with all say the same thing: It's YOUR life, you might as well do what YOU want.

Which is difficult for me to swallow because I really think that so much of who I am has to do with family and history.

Then again, I had to cover a hearing on drug abuse yesterday and one of the treatment providers said the biggest problem he faces is convincing kids who grew up in families where drug use was the norm that they don't have to be like their relatives.