Relationships: How they shape us

You heard correct, this post is an essay... kind of.

Well lately I've been asking my friends how they were as children, sometimes getting rather in depth. Mannerism, relationships, everything. Though what they think were their thoughts are interesting, I sometimes don't find them to be real. Often they're replacing what a child-them had actually thought with a more obscure version of what they currently think. Such as, looking at an image of flat planes of color with very little detail leaving much to the imagination instead of a detailed picture of the situation. Biases come out and, though it is intriguing, it lacks reality and clarity.

I found far more interest in the relationships that my friends made when they were children and could reflect upon now to have any more significant meaning than they held then. Theirs ranged from a black child with a white friend and how race never related until they got older to an unhealthy relationship with an adult as a small child.

At this point, I plan to go on my own quest through several relationships that I had from when I was younger. I'm going to go up to when I turned 14 because there's information there that would be otherwise lost to myself if I qualified this discussion to my childhood years.

The first relationship I am going to elaborate on is the one between myself and my mother.

 My mother became pregnant with me when she was merely 16 years old. She took on most of the responsibilities with my care. Although my father was around for my childhood until I was about 6 he did not do much to further my well being. So, my relationship with my mother grew stronger. As a child, I was the stereotypical "Momma's boy". Looking back, it was funny. I would tag behind my mother everywhere she went and I'd allow her to dress me up for every special occasion. I helped her in the kitchen, I helped her clean, but sometimes when she tired of me, she sent me outside and I would explore or read or something that a child with no friends did. When I was 6, my mother packed us both up and left my father who she had married 4 years earlier. Now that I'm older, I realize that my mother was not even close to as perfect as I saw her when I was younger.  You see, my mother would leave me a lone as a child. I remember thinking of these as vacations. Several times she was gone for several days and I was fending for myself. I knew how to do everything because she spent her days teaching me... I know she wasn't intending for the days to be lessons, but that's how it worked out. So she was gone... and she'd be back. She would bring strange men through and they would leave and new ones would come. I obviously didn't understand this and I didn't see it as important. None of them treated me badly and my mother has always been relatively decent for what she had to work with.

During my teen years, I had a strange relationship with my mother. I know that I felt contempt toward her for not being as nurturing as she could have been and I never achieved the level of respect for her that I should have. I viewed us as equals in a way. We fought, it erupted, name calling... the whole she-bang. It wasn't pretty and I wish it could have been different. It just felt as if there was a mutal lack of love under the roof. My contempt for her only grew after I was presented (like a slap in the face) with the knowledge that she had slept with a couple of my classmates. That was awful for me. As if I wasn't picked on before that... my mother was now the resident cougar. Great. Anyway, I managed to get my bearings at school and rise above that nonsense. During my senior year, my mother and I developed a closer bond transitioning into the bond we have today.

Speaking of the bond we share today, it's good. We have a friendship more than a parent-child relationship. I no longer live under the same roof as my mother and we're closer now, probably because of it. We've both matured and grown as people, had our problems, gotten through them... it's been crazy, but we did it. Currently she's pregnant with her second child and engaged to a man named Cristian. So, I'll have a sibling at the end of next month. That's fun.

The next relationship I want to go into is the one I have with Alex.

 Alex is very special to me. I met him just a few weeks after my 13th birthday at a party. He was turning 20 in a week or so. It was a very easy relationship. We were friends, there was no pressure... he never asked me for anything. The first time we met at that party we ended up making out, but that's not the point. After that we became best friends. We did everything together. We loved each other. Alex and I would kiss and cuddle and stuff like that; we partied together, drunk every night. It was fun for the most part and nothing sexual happened between us until I was 14. Now I know that it was lawfully wrong, but that still doesn't matter. I still love him the same way that I loves him then. My best friend. We had a lot of moments that would suggest that something more was there and there was a long time where I wanted there to be. I had a crush on him and every time I mentioned this to him, he let me down gracefully, but my will was never broken unless I was tempted by another. I had boyfriends all through my teens and Alex never liked any of them. Obviously, looking back, I see this as him subconsciously, or even consciously, trying to keep me available for when he was ready for a relationship.

When I was 15, I started going with a boy named David, he was abusive, he ruined the self esteem I had, he controlled me, and broke me in so many ways. He ended up breaking up with me and devastating me. At the end of that relationship, I attempted suicide. Alex saved me. He found me and got me the medical attention I needed. For awhile, I resented him for it. He took care of me in his own apartment because I refused to go home. He rebuilt me back up to a good person... to someone who I was almost proud of. Sure, I still partied, drank, and did other things I'm not proud of. I was loose. Thinking back, it was disgusting. All of the guys I partied with were Alex's age or older. A few were younger but I wasn't interested in them. Anyway, Alex and I got each other through that.

We had a falling out when I announced my relationship with Nicky to him. He was angry, jealous, and he lashed out. IT was a very depressing time for both of us. However, we got ourselves through it and now we're just as good of friends as we ever were if not better. 

A couple of years ago, I helped Alex get help for alcoholism. He also started going to college. He was in a really bad place in his life when I met him, but I realize that I hadn't understood that. If I had been able to, I would never have perpetuated the actions he was doing by doing them as well. He's been sober for about a year now, and I'm so happy for him. He's beginning to develop healthy relationships even though they'll never be perfect.

Currently, I'm going through my own battle with drinking, drugs, depression, and eating disorders. Alex is helping me every step of the way he can.He's been supportive and I often find myself missing the time we used to spend together. We live in different cities and I only see him once or twice a month. He's still my best friend though. We're not growing apart, we're just at a pause, I guess.

The next relationship I'm going to elaborate upon is the one (or lack there of) with my father.

When I was a child, he wasn't around much. He didn't take care of me very much when my parents were together. After they separated and I had minor visitation with him (about a month each summer and every other holiday) he started doing something. We argued a lot and I ended up not staying under his roof a lot during the visits. Then, he got remarried to Kathy and I spent even less time there. I didn't like Kathy. She acted as if she was my mother and she was not. Needless to say, I avoided the entire situation. When I was 14, my father gave up his custodial rights to me. I still went every summer until I was 17, but more to see Alex and my other friends.

Last year, my father had a son who I feel no connection to. I feel like that's most likely because 1. I have no connection with my father and 2. he's Kathy's son, and not my brother. Currently, I have no relationship with my father and we haven't spoken for awhile.

Now that I've reflected upon these relationships that I've had, I can only conclude that... well, I don't know. I don't know if I can really conclude anything from this at all. That seems silly as there's quite a lot of information there to look at. Ah well. I'll think about it some more and maybe I'll come back to this.


-Peter