Feeling Suffocated With My Parents and Their Friends
While I appreciate Mom's inviting me over for dinner and conversation at a "wine party" those retirees have in the clubhouse of their condo, I think they want a robot who just sits there and keeps his mouth shut. Whenever I embark on some conversation topic, it always seems I end up "offending" someone or hurting someone's feelings, which is certainly not my intent, but I'm not going to sit there like a robot and say nothing while those people rant and rave.
In the latest drama/debacle, to liven up the conversation there, I began talking about a book, that Mom loaned me to read, called The Millionaire Mindset. It talked about the hypothalmus, the central core, the innermost part of the brain, the pleasure center, where all good things, good ideas and good results come from. I likened the hypothalmus to the central core of a tree, the tender tree bark. As the tree ages, layer upon layer of experience form over the hypothalmus, some good, some bad, but the innermost layer gets buried over time, and that it's important to make time to relax and get in touch with that innermost core. Apparently, this rubbed my dad the wrong way and put him in a rotten mood. Maybe, while listening to me, he dug down deep into his own hypothalmus and found nothing there. He had nothing positive to offer the conversation and thus dismissed the ideas of the book as bullshit. Sorry, dad, but not my fault.
Next time my mom invites me to something like that, I'm gonna say "am I allowed to breathe?". Truly, I feel like, if I breathe wrong, my mom or dad will pick on it and grind it into the ground.
(sigh) The myopia, the tunnel vision, of getting older. Parents are in their upper 60s, and their friends are much, much older than that. Too deep in their comfort zone, their mental cave, before death. Trying not to become like that myself, but it seems there's very little coming out of people's mouths that I find very stimulating either. So I read, and come here, where, hopefully, there's a reprieve.
In the latest drama/debacle, to liven up the conversation there, I began talking about a book, that Mom loaned me to read, called The Millionaire Mindset. It talked about the hypothalmus, the central core, the innermost part of the brain, the pleasure center, where all good things, good ideas and good results come from. I likened the hypothalmus to the central core of a tree, the tender tree bark. As the tree ages, layer upon layer of experience form over the hypothalmus, some good, some bad, but the innermost layer gets buried over time, and that it's important to make time to relax and get in touch with that innermost core. Apparently, this rubbed my dad the wrong way and put him in a rotten mood. Maybe, while listening to me, he dug down deep into his own hypothalmus and found nothing there. He had nothing positive to offer the conversation and thus dismissed the ideas of the book as bullshit. Sorry, dad, but not my fault.
Next time my mom invites me to something like that, I'm gonna say "am I allowed to breathe?". Truly, I feel like, if I breathe wrong, my mom or dad will pick on it and grind it into the ground.
(sigh) The myopia, the tunnel vision, of getting older. Parents are in their upper 60s, and their friends are much, much older than that. Too deep in their comfort zone, their mental cave, before death. Trying not to become like that myself, but it seems there's very little coming out of people's mouths that I find very stimulating either. So I read, and come here, where, hopefully, there's a reprieve.
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