You Are An Acquired Taste

My brother said this to me awhile back while we were shooting the breeze over a morning coffee at our regular haunt. I can’t remember what we were talking about or what led to his comment, but it took me by surprise. And as I paused a moment to digest his words, I could see on his face he was wondering what my next move would be. Honestly, I had to laugh. Because not only was he correct, it sort of summed me up completely. I can be a bit much and you either love me or hate me.

This brother is the sibling closest in age. Our relationship is different from those with the older kids in the family. Our childhood was typical of older vs younger as well as brother vs sister. A little over four years separated us and he was often tasked with caring for me out in the world of small town southern Alberta. Free to roam and play, there were dangers. Somehow my Mom thought a young boy of 8 or 9 was fully capable of keeping care of a pesky four year old sister. Our relationship has hit many highs and lows throughout the last 60 some years. We have shared many emotions and seen the absolute best and worst of each other. Our phases have been extreme at times. He knows me pretty well.

And yet, I think about a comment my husband made a few years before he died. I was in my mid fifties I guess and we were in the midst of a disagreement. He suddenly said I had become quite jaded as I aged. I wasn’t that sweet young thing he had married. To be fair he was right. What he wasn’t saying is why I changed. In fact I doubt he even wondered why. Here’s the thing. I was never the sweet young thing. I was a bit of an issue for my parents. I tried to follow rules until the rules made no sense. My Mom and Dad were great people but a little inconsistent with me. I think a lot had to do with me being the youngest. My friends were mostly the older type most parents warn you about. I did my own thing and loved life. I lived life my way, even at a young age. But, on the other hand I was very much someone who went along with things. Thus the trouble part of the teens. But I was kind. I stuck up for the underdog. I didn’t voice opinions much. I just did my own thing if I wasn’t keen on someone elses plans. Not in a loud way. I just went about my business quietly. My push back in life was fairly calm.

Then I got married. I was very young and my in-laws were a very different type from my own family. Years of therapy helped me to understand them somewhat but in the early years I cried. A lot. They had a way of treating each other that was a form of protection for themselves. Every get together had someone as the butt of jokes. Once it started everyone joined in. I learned that as kids, when someone did something wrong or broke something, their Dad lined them up and grilled them until someone confessed. If no one did, they were all punished. This led to them making sure the attention was on someone other than themselves. This followed them into adulthood. Sadly, they soon had new victims when they all got married. As an in-law, who was a little on the eclectic side, I was an easy target. My clothes, my hair, my jewellery. All were ridiculed. But then my children became targets. As did their cousins. More than once I found my youngest son crying in the car on Christmas day. It was always an uncle or aunt who had hurt him. My brother in law made fun of my daughter when she was nine and experimented with make up. He said she looked like a whore. Who says that to a child? Even grandchildren are open season. My sister in law was helping my granddaughter with a craft and made her erase and rewrite some words because it wasn’t good enough. I can take a lot from almost anyone, but mess with my kids or grandkids and we have a problem. I became a very push back person in time because it seemed apparent that I had to toughen up to protect myself. And my kids. The in-laws never changed. But I did. They are all out of my life now.

I think I have gone through many stages in life to finally arrive at a point where I am perhaps at my peak contentment. It is truly a journey we experience as we age. The lessons we learn along the way help us to get to the next level. Figure out who we really are. I really liked me when I was a small child. As a teen I was comfortable in my skin. I felt confident in my abilities. I loved the freedom of being young. The lack of responsibility yet the security that comes from being part of a family. There is peace in that. People who love you even when you mess up. Not having to be the best. Just the expectation of being a good and kind person. Acceptance without pressure. That is where I learned about compassion and respect. My husband said my parents were too nice to me. They didn’t prepare me for the real world. The truth is, they loved me. I was spanked. Punished when I messed up. I fought with them. Even as an adult. There were a lot of arguments and fights. That’s what families do. That is how parents try to keep us on the straight and narrow. They want us to be good kind adults.

The years in the world were what jaded me. And I dug my heels in hard when confronted with what I considered disrespect. I learned that I don’t need to take abuse from others. I learned to stand up for myself. I learned that no one has the right to try and tear me down. I was verbal about these things as I aged. Now, its a different time. I find that it is easier to fill my life with kind people. Loving people. Accepting people. It just makes life so much easier. I am still an acquired taste perhaps, but then of course, the best things in life are.