Is it a normal reaction to regress to some form of pseudo-adolescence in the presence of one's parents? And if so, what are the reasons behind it?
I ask this question because of what happened this weekend. As you probably worked out, my parents came down to visit and, I am ashamed to say, I did regress to some sort of glorified teenager. Normally, I am fairly mild-mannered and mature. I hold down a decent job and live a relatively dull existence with my girlfriend. In other words, I am a fairly unremarkable young adult. Not perfect, just normal.
However, for some reason this weekend in particular, I regressed. I became stroppy, truculent and argumentative. What makes things worse is that I don't get to see my parents very often. They live in Scotland while I live in the South of England. I suppose that relates a bit to it. There is always a bit of pressure to perform; the feeling that each moment has to be an occasion. It probably also doesn't help that normal social rules don't apply to nuclear family units. They have seen you at your best and worst and can usually see through any constructed social persona. As a result, standard etiquette disappears and the social lubrication it provides evaporates.
I know I'm not the only one that does this. I have seen it especially in girlfriends (current and past). Suddenly I see a side to them that is totally different to the one I know and at times it can be a bit shocking. Perhaps it's the fact that parents usually continue to see their children as their vulnerable offspring for eternity and just can't give up the urge to nurture them. A great example of this happened when I was about 16. For some reason I was going into my dad's workplace. He was a drama teacher and it so happened that he had a class at the time (pupils of around my age). I stayed around for the lesson a) because they were always quite good fun and b) because it created a useful number for practical exercises. Inevitably the, "Who are you?" questions flowed. When I revealed that I was in fact the teacher's son they all started at me in utter astonishment. It turns out they all thought I was the cherubic eight year old staring out from the photograph frame on his desk, his wee boy that he often talked about. It's not that he didn't like me as a 16 year old, quite the opposite, we got and get on famously. It was just that that is how he saw me in his mind's eye.
I suppose it's a bit of a misunderstanding at heart. Parent's want to help out and to feel useful. We (and I think I can speak for a lot of people) want to show we're independent. That they have raised us well and given us the skills to look after ourselves. That's why offers to do the washing up or ironing are politely (usually) rejected. It probably also stems from the fact that parents do have our best interests at heart and don't always approve of the way we do things. Fair enough; if I had a kid with my relaxed attitude to pressure it would almost certainly do my head in but it doesn't always make for the freest of communication. Often one side will feel got-at and resented or ignored. It's a learning curve.
All this pseudo-psychology is still only a thin way to try and rationalise how I acted. As I said, I feel bad. I feel bad because they came all this way to see me. I feel bad because I know my dad has multiple serious illnesses and, if I'm being brutally honest, I don't have all that much longer left with him. Finally I feel bad because my parents are two of the most generous individuals anybody could wish to meet. They have given me more than anyone should rightfully receive and done so without hesitation or complaint. I am truly grateful for this and hope that I can live up to similar standards over the course of my life. I just wish I showed it more in front of them.
Despite this rant, they say they had a wonderful time over the weekend and, for what it's worth, I genuinely believe them. It certainly wasn't all bad, it's just at the moment I am focused on the areas for improvement.
I hope everyone else had a good weekend.
JR
I ask this question because of what happened this weekend. As you probably worked out, my parents came down to visit and, I am ashamed to say, I did regress to some sort of glorified teenager. Normally, I am fairly mild-mannered and mature. I hold down a decent job and live a relatively dull existence with my girlfriend. In other words, I am a fairly unremarkable young adult. Not perfect, just normal.
However, for some reason this weekend in particular, I regressed. I became stroppy, truculent and argumentative. What makes things worse is that I don't get to see my parents very often. They live in Scotland while I live in the South of England. I suppose that relates a bit to it. There is always a bit of pressure to perform; the feeling that each moment has to be an occasion. It probably also doesn't help that normal social rules don't apply to nuclear family units. They have seen you at your best and worst and can usually see through any constructed social persona. As a result, standard etiquette disappears and the social lubrication it provides evaporates.
I know I'm not the only one that does this. I have seen it especially in girlfriends (current and past). Suddenly I see a side to them that is totally different to the one I know and at times it can be a bit shocking. Perhaps it's the fact that parents usually continue to see their children as their vulnerable offspring for eternity and just can't give up the urge to nurture them. A great example of this happened when I was about 16. For some reason I was going into my dad's workplace. He was a drama teacher and it so happened that he had a class at the time (pupils of around my age). I stayed around for the lesson a) because they were always quite good fun and b) because it created a useful number for practical exercises. Inevitably the, "Who are you?" questions flowed. When I revealed that I was in fact the teacher's son they all started at me in utter astonishment. It turns out they all thought I was the cherubic eight year old staring out from the photograph frame on his desk, his wee boy that he often talked about. It's not that he didn't like me as a 16 year old, quite the opposite, we got and get on famously. It was just that that is how he saw me in his mind's eye.
I suppose it's a bit of a misunderstanding at heart. Parent's want to help out and to feel useful. We (and I think I can speak for a lot of people) want to show we're independent. That they have raised us well and given us the skills to look after ourselves. That's why offers to do the washing up or ironing are politely (usually) rejected. It probably also stems from the fact that parents do have our best interests at heart and don't always approve of the way we do things. Fair enough; if I had a kid with my relaxed attitude to pressure it would almost certainly do my head in but it doesn't always make for the freest of communication. Often one side will feel got-at and resented or ignored. It's a learning curve.
All this pseudo-psychology is still only a thin way to try and rationalise how I acted. As I said, I feel bad. I feel bad because they came all this way to see me. I feel bad because I know my dad has multiple serious illnesses and, if I'm being brutally honest, I don't have all that much longer left with him. Finally I feel bad because my parents are two of the most generous individuals anybody could wish to meet. They have given me more than anyone should rightfully receive and done so without hesitation or complaint. I am truly grateful for this and hope that I can live up to similar standards over the course of my life. I just wish I showed it more in front of them.
Despite this rant, they say they had a wonderful time over the weekend and, for what it's worth, I genuinely believe them. It certainly wasn't all bad, it's just at the moment I am focused on the areas for improvement.
I hope everyone else had a good weekend.
JR
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