#like i won't disown you for your zodiac sign buuuuut

[jmflowers]

As an adult still living in my parents' house, I struggle a lot with the notion of feeling safe and respected.

I exist here still out of a necessity. My mom had a near-death scare when I was about 21 and a choice I made in the moment saved her, so I've always felt a sense of guilt about leaving. She's afraid to not have me here, even almost a decade later.

My presence has worked in our favour over the years - as both of my parents and myself have struggled with various health challenges. But this house doesn't feel like home and I don't feel like myself when I'm here. In fact, I escape elsewhere as often as I can.

Ultimately, I think, it starts to boil down to love languages. Which sounds crazy, I know, but my entire family has different love languages than my own. They all give and receive love in ways that are completely contradictory to my own methods.

I hate to be touched, but both of my parents receive love that way. They'll guilt me into hugs I don't want, or brush their hands against me on the way past, or tap me on the arm randomly without warning. It sets off alarm bells whenever I'm in familial space and the risk of it is imminent. I rush to get ready for work in the morning, hoping that I'll be able to slip out the door before either of them get up to say goodbye to me.

My father gives love in acts of service - my lowest ranked love language. Which is so frustrating for me, someone who is particular and a little Type A who prefers things a specific way, because he doesn't do things right. He'll fold my clothes in the wrong direction or not complete all the steps of a task and then I just have to re-do it anyways. And I know he means well, but he doesn't listen when I ask him to stop.

Which is how it all boils down to this lack of feeling safe or home or respected. My very basic needs for comfort are ignored in favour of what makes them happy. My autonomy is disregarded on a daily basis. And all of it just skyrockets my anxiety to a place that feels uncomfortable and challenging to navigate.

Living like this leads to me working long hours, to blowing money on travel and adventure I can't really afford, to literally wanting to flee the country if only to have the space to exist as my base self. And they're supportive of my desire, yeah, but they still instill the guilt. They've bestowed a responsibility upon me to take care of them without acknowledging what I need to be able to do that.

I know it's not literal harm. I know they are not abusing me or causing trauma or really doing anything but being themselves and doing the best they know how. But it is so suffocating. And fascinating, really, that it circles back to something so unbelievably basic.

I wish I knew a concrete way to change any of it.