Dealing With Expectations

The more I look back on my August 14th post, the more it feels like I need to elaborate more on what I'm saying. Especially that last paragraph, which seemed pretty jarring. This blog is a place where I get personal and hold no punches, so expect to see more of that as time goes on.

A few days ago my cousin was ran over by multiple cars and killed. It was a shock to me and many others, including my dad. He talked to me about how sad it was that he did not reach his full potential. He used my cousin's death as an example of what I would become if I didn't start taking action and get a stable income.

My late cousin was out on the streets. As far as I know, he was just walking around as a homeless man. He had a history of drug use. My dad believes he might have been on drugs during the time of the accident. I didn't know much about his personal life because I hadn't seen him in about 3-4 years.

My dad gives me lectures about how I need to stop surviving and start thriving. I, however, don't see the way I'm living as surviving or thriving. I would call it adapting. I've talked about my situation in prior posts, but I'll go in a bit more detail.

In mid October of this year, I made the trip back home to Houston. I shipped my car back, and am in the process to get it fixed so I can get back to traveling. Including that, my other main goals are balding Gamecube controller buttons to sell at the next Genesis, resting to get back to sprint training, and training my Melee Pikachu.

These are things my dad is fine with. What he's not fine with is that I do not have a stable income. I left my jobs at Wendy's and Home Depot when I left Albuquerque. That's right, I'm unemployed. And when people are unemployed in this country they are seen as lazy and entitled. "Why can't they find a job and work like the rest of us?" is what I assume pops up in many employed people's heads when they see someone like me.

My dad tells me he doesn't want me to have the fate of the many male members of my family. I have a transgender older sister who is living a similar life as what my cousin was living through. Right now, she is living on the streets of downtown Houston. I saw her this week for the first time in a few years when me and my dad drove around downtown looking for her. "When you see him walking, you'll know it's him because no one walks like him". When my dad saw her walking down the street with a fast, flamboyant gait, my dad knew immediately it was her.

We took her to the nearby Jack in the Box, a place she frequents. A worker there told me she comes by late at night, and he feeds her. My dad orders her some food and leaves to buy her some cigarettes. As we sit beside each other at a table, I try to talk to her a bit.

She's very jittery. Almost two times as jittery as when I saw her a few years ago. She responds to everything I say with a fast "yeah", "yup", or "mhm". She stands up and sits back down immediately from time to time. She moves her arms and hands in random patterns. She bangs her head against the back of the seat at times. It was all very unnerving.

The most haunting part of me trying to talk to her was when she looked me in the eyes. She did it before, but they were only fleeting glances. There was one time where she stared at me for a solid 5 seconds. During those 5 seconds I tried to find her old self within her eyes. I wanted to see a small glint of hope that she was still in there, that the drugs didn't take her completely. Unfortunately, all I saw was nothingness. It felt as if those wide, blood shot eyes had nothing beyond them.

My dad tells me he wishes that I don't become like my sister. He believes we are put on this earth to grow. Not just physically, but spiritually. He also tells me he doesn't want to live life worrying about my well-being. But why should I care what he thinks about me? I wasn't brought into this world by choice. Why should I have to live my life to quell his worries? I have the free will to do what I want, just like he has the free will to worry.

He brought my sister into this world, and she hasn't lived up to his expectations. So what? She didn't live up to my expectations either. Do you think I want my sister to be living the way she is? Although I don't like the way she's living, it was her choice. I won't be living my life in hopes that my dad will be proud of me. Whatever I do will be of my own volition, and I won't be looking to others for approval.