I've inherited a great many things from my family: nose, face shape, height. My dad's love of travelling. My mom's love for interrupting. My grandmother's feisty attitude. All these little bits and pieces from all these people came together to form me. Nurture or nature, does it really matter which?
With the results from my COVID test finally available (negative!), my sister and I brought our parents ice cream tonight. I had been warned about the leak downstairs. Again, I knew what to expect. But, again, just hearing about a situation doesn't prepare you for what's actually happened.
It was the smell. It hit you like a moldy brick wall upon stepping into the house.
"The floor's no longer wet!" Mom exclaimed.
I smiled and nodded because, well, I know my parents and they will never, ever fix the problem. The leak will eventually get repaired and the carpet will turn crusty and dry under their feet, but they will never get an estimate for the damage or replace the flooring. It isn't a matter of not being able to afford it. They just won't.
As much as it pains me to admit this, my parents are classic hoarders. They still have the bird cage up in the kitchen, empty. The parakeets died many months ago. Every surface in the kitchen is covered in used margarine containers, cutting boards, knives, tea, knick knacks...you name it, it's probably there. My dad's stacks of books - his primary income - and boxes of stamps - his boyhood hobby - have crowded out any available seating in the living, dining, and family rooms, while all of the extra bedrooms are filled with my mom's stuff.
If it sounds like I'm getting down on my parents, I'm not. They both have their problems and hoarding feeds into it. They are comfortable in their disaster of a space and it has been this way ever since I was a child. I've had to unlearn so many bad habits (and still working on many more). Staying with them is...exhausting. It's the only polite way of putting it.
But you can love a person and not like what they do. I love my parents, but I'll be damned if I'm going to destroy my mental (and at this point, physical) health staying with them. I will help my dad with taxes. I will take him to appointments. I will make them dinner. But I have to draw the line somewhere. The bad habits have to stop with me.
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