Detached

Sometimes I think it would be better if my parents were divorced.  Yeah, I have had plenty of friends who had divorced parents.  They always complain.  Not just about the break-up and the tragedy that ensues throughout, not just the splitting of the parents but the dissolve of the family, but mostly about their own selfishness.  They have to divide their time to appropriately visit both of them.  They think that if they didn’t and if they just lived with the most convenient one then their other parents would be gorged with jealousy.  But I rather know the truth, that mine don’t love each other, rather then be confused on their relationship.  My friends actually know through legal documents that their parents did not love each other anymore but mine are still mixed up in civil court.  It’s a day to day pain.  Some days it seems like they have talked a lot even though I never hear it.  Others it is just a constant storm of bickering that has lasted ten years.  It’s an answer that none of us brothers can answer.  It has startled us in the decrepit regards.  I have only seen my parents hug as a joke.  My father squeezed my mom and practically chuckled like love is supposed to be a societal figure rather then an emotion.  This has led me to relationship disrupt that includes being afraid of public displays of affection and social awkwardness when around my girlfriend.  I get scorned because of it and it feels like this is the root of my emotional problems.

     I don’t know what is acceptable in public because I was never properly introduced during my childhood.  I saw other parents embrace but I remember thinking that they were just childish and still living in their adolescent.  But as I grew up and started to analyze the relationship paradigm, I realized that it was my parents that were the un-organized ones.  My loving ties ended with my parents when I was eight.  I haven’t kissed either of them since then or told them “I love you.”  My brothers wife, Michelle, told my brother Kane and I that we should start and that they would eventually follow foot.  But we both agreed that we didn’t have the will to and that it was all too late. I don’t think I should train them to be normal parents because in discrepancies, we have as a family never been perceived as normal.  We cut our pizza’s with scissors and put parmesan cheese on popcorn.  Our house looks straight out of hoarders and both my parents have abstract views of reality.  I have asked my mom a few times how she met my father but it feels so detached and unemotional that it resembles how someone found a stray dog that they eventually turned into a pet.  They met at their work.  Not only is it so familiar that it is hardly a discovery rather then a falling in place.  They found their job and the next step is finding a special someone and they didn’t even leave the place that changed their lives to begin with.  The only early things I have learned about them are nags and complaints from my mother which are the only compliments she gives my father.  He used to sleep on his couch even though he had a bed and also he would have to be called before work or he wouldn’t wake up in time.  If it wasn’t for her then he would of been out of a job.  Now my dad wakes up at 5:30 to make sure I get up for work. 
    But the questions still exists and I feel the impact of them loom over me during my own long term relationship.  I don’t want to be like them in their late 50’s completely hating themselves for entering such a normal life that they both don’t deserve to be in.  I worry about them at least weekly and think that they only still continue to play their game because of my younger sister.  I wonder what they will do when she gets out of the house but I know they will be too old, too frail, to beaten down to acknowledge their misfortune.  I’m sure everyone wondered what it would be like to grow up in another family but people always interject being wealthy but I want to know how it would feel to be raised normal