"I am not asking you to believe in me..."

Parents. Ahhhh. So wise, so thoughtful, so..... supportive. *Please insert sarcastic eye roll so enormous my eyes nearly spin from their exasperated sockets here*.

So my little sister turned 8 on the 7th, and to celebrate, my parents took the family out for chinese buffet on the following Saturday. I love my sister. She is absolutely adorable. I also can handle my mother and stepfather in moderation. But the day was a disaster in the making until they blissfully left my sister, Jen and I at Playdium (massive arcade that kicks ass) for a while after eating. Now, part of it isn't necessarily their fault. There are many things I have never told them, and never will tell them for the sake of my sanity. But it was as if black clouds hung over our table, mocking me while tossing careless lightning bolts to zap my ass in my chair.

First, began the political discussion. My parents, while fairly bright, are not university educated, and simply read and hear what the media tells them. Now, the media, which we all know, is a propaganda machine. It tells us what it wants to, to create images that are predesigned. So when the war in Afghanistan comes up, we clash heads. My mother is all for bombing the fuck out of them, that Bush "had to do something major". While I agree that there was a need to strike back definitively to ensure other terrorists do not act against the innocent people in the United States, I do not see why a war should be waged against the innocent, why Bush feels he must not kill the same number of people killed 9/11, but rather, kill the number of people who earn the equivalent wages as those lost in September. It is good to know that these people will be remembered by the President for their average earning power, that the loss represents money first and foremost to the man. Further, it is obvious that Bush is now taking his opportunity to attack Iraq and Saddam, exactly like dear old dad. And my mother essentially branded me ignorant, and blamed my opinion on me being an extreme pacifist. Uh-huh. Sure. That's me. Then again, my parents voted in the guy who deregulated tuition and raised my school fees, support his policies, yet bitch at ME for "putting them on the hook" for my student loans.

Next, the questions. Not just any question, but the two I dread more than anything. "Do you ever talk to Erich anymore?" came first. Now, he used to be my best friend -- until he drugged and tried to assault me. My parents do not know this. However, I have answered MANY TIMES that we had a falling out, and that we haven't talked in years. I wonder why they keep bringing his sorry ass up. Then immediately afterwards, my other favourite question: "hey do you see your cousins at all anymore?" As in the cousins who, when I was young, molested me. Unknown to my folks however. But still, the back to back attack was almost enough to break my perfect pretty smile and cool demeanor.

So I head back to the buffet table, with Jen following me to check if I'm ok. She's very aware of the impact of those questions, and while they were asked, she was subtlely touching my leg. Ah well. return to the table.

What should the climax of the day be? The discussion of my plans after graduation. I tell them I'm taking a year off, then returning to pursue graduate studies. My stepfather cracks off that I should go straight to grad school because after all, 80% of people who take time off never go back. Well, that may be true, but 80% is not 100%. Further, my parents are aware of the fact that I have been going to school year-round since September 1998. That is a long damn time to go to school. Straight. No breaks. 12 months of the year. Now, anyone who's been to university has a comprehension of how difficult that is. Of course, they haven't gone to university but jesus! Of course, and this is the deciding factor in why I am choosing to take time off, I have been dealing with sexual assault during my second year, coupled with double depression and social anxiety. A lot ot handle while trying to handle a triple major in a demanding program while maintaining a 3.8 GPA. I need a rest damn it. And while they don't know of my mental problems or the assault they do know I have been going to school four four full years. Do they not understand that I'm tired? I fast tracked and completed five years of high school in four (here where I live you have five years of high school to take; it can be done in four however). I'm exhausted. So I blew. I told them I was tired and I needed that time off, and that I am the 20% who do go back.

I just cannot fathom why they can never believe in me, why they can never just accept that perhaps I have some idea of what I am doing. Behind my back, to strangers, they insist I am so smart and am doing wonderfully. But to me, it seems they are just waiting for me to fail and prove them right, prove I will never be anything. *sigh* I'd just like to be accepted. Not agreed with. But accepted as making my own decisions capably.

I'm tired of being second guessed.