I’ve always moved away from conflict of any description and yet at a time in my life when I could justifiably expect some relief, it’s a constant battle.
It seems that from an early age the bullying I endured from local children had a profound affect. My tolerance of disagreement is low. Surely there are always more gentile ways to resolve things. It would appear not. When antagonism is prolonged it can provoke a reaction from the meekest of us.
Society in general has degraded to the point of zero tolerance for each other so why should home life be any different. Buttons pushed to score points inevitably end in a lose-lose situation. Invariably I’m somewhere in the middle of things. Sometimes I wonder whether this is pure weakness as opposed to peaceful desire. But boundaries can be put in place in a clear non-emotive way. The consequences set out. It’s when the boundaries become blurred that the problems begin.
I believe you can be a parent and a friend if those boundaries are clear. It’s not a question of choosing roles but really just being who you are. Pushing at those boundaries can be straightforward to police. There’s little need for heavy hands once one is crossed as the consequences are known. And yet I find myself refereeing the battles of others. Being left to pick up the pieces after somebody else’s fight. Being left to be the bad guy.
Standing together in a reasonable situation is one thing but being on the ‘wrong horse’ is another. Sitting in a leaky and unseaworthy vessel over the most trivial of quickly escalated arguments is a cause of great discomfort.
Stress makes me ill. That is fact. I guess until, and there’s a big if coming, greater maturity from all household parties can be reached, the potential for greater stress is always present. Is it possible to be well in this house? Probably not. But it’s not for the lack of trying.
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