My Story (and it's not about music) I've been thinking a lot lately about what to post on this website as my first true blog post. Being stuck between domestic and work obligations has made my time for creativity and composing music limited. This has ultimately led to more reflection on my own past as I draw for inspiration in the hopes that, sometime soon, time will be available to create art with those thoughts. Two days ago I found myself thinking a lot about my parents and my family. For more than 5 years we have been estranged, except my older brother, because of a series of unfortunate confrontations over the last decade. In particular, I saw an instagram post written by one of my other brothers (10 years my junior) in which he professes his difficulty with friends and feeling abandoned. You see, we became officially disconnected 5 years ago but this has been an ongoing process since 2007. It's fairly incomprehensible for me to imagine what he has gone through - losing his three older siblings to not only the natural cycle of growing up, but an even darker subtext; one in which this essay will entail. He was growing up at the wrong time, too young to understand the intricacies of life and familial relationships and too old to not remember. He was 7. This story isn't one I share with many. Especially in detail. But over the last year I have begun to understand that part of my responsibility as an adult, a teacher, and an artist, is to find a way to share my experiences. In particular, this especially nasty political and presidential election cycle has spurred many feelings due to how life changed for me so drastically when I turned 17. It's not possible to write or discuss every excruciating detail. It's also clear that my experiences are not to the level of ubiquity in which humans experience death, suffering, hate, and violence. But who I am and the way I connect with others is eternally interconnected with my past experiences; and when we come into contact with others, we are shaping their future with our own past. When I was 16 years old... When I was 16 years old my father heard a knock on the door. It was this knock that eventually tumbled the very structure our family relied on. Within one year my entire family unit had become enveloped into a religious circle full of well intention actions. At 16 years old I understood that while I did not agree with the religious change, preservation of our family at the expense of my happiness was paramount. We weren't doing anything damaging, our family was together; we were strong. And so, I dealt with the studies, the 3 days a week religious services and events. I put on a smile as I peddled flyers and "the good news" to others. For their salvation, of course. I even shaved my goatee (of which I was incredibly proud as a 16 year old boy finding his way to manhood through the physical permutation of testosterone) because "people might get the wrong idea". You see, I dealt with all of this because our family was together and these were only minor inconveniences. But, as I was a 16 turning 17 year old young man, the age-old story of love was destined to forge a future of our own Capulet's and Motague's (religion and love). When I was 17, I began dating a girl of whom didn't belong to my parents religion. And so, in the interest of time, our love was forbade. At that time I had done everything I could for preservation of my family. But I was not going to choose who to love for the preservation of my family. All things came to a head on a weekend when my parents had went away. My father had invited over his suicidal cousin and her daughters, and expected his children to take care of the home. At this time, I was driving daily 40 minutes each way to attend university and then working 40 hours a week. The notion of taking care of my 3 younger siblings, a 40 year old suicidal woman and two strange children under the age of 7 was daunting. Not for being 17; for anyone. But I did it. I did it with pride because it was my family and they needed me. My sister was notorious for doing as she pleased without regard to familiar concerns and my brother had his own difficulties to manage. And so I went to school, worked my shifts, shopped for the family, took care of strangers, and gave myself one evening to go out on a date. My parents wouldn't have it. My younger brother, spoiled with rage and selfishness at his lack of attention during this time, took it to himself to ensure that I would be punished and communicated vigorously on my parents behalf. It was indefensible for me to go on a date and so all the work I did was void because of a single evening. And so I packed a bag. When my father returned there was no discussion, no waiting period, no time to investigate. It was time for me to break up with my girl friend and fully embrace the church or leave. But even leaving wasn't so easy. As I stood at the front door my father baited me to hit him, an inch from my face. If I was so justified to leave, then I was justified to a physical course, no? Fortunately, my parents also raised someone who could analyze a situation and, seeing that this was a ploy to use the law to get what he wanted, I simply walked out. I was 17. In college. Working. Living with my girlfriend and her family. I was 17. In college. Working. Living with my girlfriend and her family. To keep this short, I did return home for a short time. After all, my parents couldn't save my soul nor control me if I wasn't in their grasp. And, even so, I still needed a plan to make a jump into adulthood that skipped half a decade of steps most young adults are afforded. In a turn of fortunate events, I continued in college and my father received a job offer 2000 miles away. I had a reason to stay away (continuing at my university) and I took that opportunity. Our relationship continued to slightly improve. I was a sophomore in college, working, and living in a new apartment with another student I met in my "introduction to education" course at Michigan State. My relationship with the girlfriend was fading as I realized this relationship was also unhealthy - she used my familial guilt to control me. There was no way I would leave her since I had already proven to leave my family for her. And maybe she was right. The regular break ups and uncertainty she gave me didn't matter because I had given up so much for her. But if there was one thing I learned in those several years, it was understanding that doing what was right for yourself is the most important thing to do if you are to find happiness. And so, after all the destruction of my family relationships, we broke up. I was never more relieved. I discovered power over my choices and baggage; it felt good to know that I could be in control. It was time for a new life - no family to control me, no emotionally damaging relationship, and no guilt. Over the next few years, various things happened that would stir these old emotions. My parents eventually discovered if they couldn't control me emotionally, they could control my finances to achieve their goals. And so, they no longer would sign off or provide information for my Free Application for Federal Student Aid (FAFSA). As a rising college Junior, I was no longer eligible for student loans and many scholarships. But should I move - leave my university and live with my parents, they would sign anything. They would not only sign, but they would pay for my school. They were offering me a chance to live debt free. All I had to do was to live with them and attend their church. Think on that for a moment. After everything, they continued to make every attempt to control me. I politely refused and continued getting my degree through working and taking out my own private loans (which, by the way I have yet to understand how a 19 year old was granted $45,000 in student loans over the next 3 years without a cosigner). Additionally, I was on welfare. Food stamps. I mentioned earlier my gripe about politicians and policy relating to this election cycle. I was working hard and in a difficult situation. Two years of food stamps and I was eventually back on my feet. But here is a possible outcome without that government assistance: (1) Drop out of school because I could not work enough to purchase food (2) Work a full-time job to be able to eat (3) Student loans from my first 3 years are now in repayment (4) cost of living, food, and working full time means school is no longer an option (5) I would become trapped into a low economic life of hardship and, worst yet, not pursing my passion of teaching music Luckily, government programs were able to keep me going until I was back on my feet. But I digress. I still continued the relationship with my parents. I needed to try. After months of dating my new girlfriend (who is now my wife) we took a trip to visit my family. I was putting a good foot forward. It was awkward, but we survived. And awkward survival was the status quo with my parents for the next few years. And awkward survival was the status quo with my parents for the next few years.
After graduating from university I received a monetary gift from my grandmother. It was to be used to pay off a large portion of my student loans. Originally, the intent was for it to cover the entire cost but living on my own with no financial help and high interest rates didn't allow that. (However, I was and am incredibly thankful for that gift.) The last kicker in this twisted card game was when my parents were put in charge of the payment fund. And rather than pay off my highest interest rates they used the funds to pay off every single loan they were connected with from when they had signed FAFSA forms. I was left with every high interest rate loan I had and no choice of how to manage my finances. They had one last card to play and damn did they play it. It was moot, however, because I had developed the resolve to move forward. Our relationship was still tumultuous. Uneasy wouldn't even cover the phone conversations. I often received religious tracts in the mail from my parents, insistence on continuing to read their bible, and regular hints that if we just lived a little closer they could help us get through our tough financial times. But it was okay because maybe things would eventually be alright. Then, about 5 years ago my brother was excommunicated from their religion. They don't call it that - the individual is free to attend services. But all ties are expected to be cut. And the good followers that they are, my parents obliged. For my brother's failing and because he left their church my parents "put him in time-out" (as my mother calls it). My older and adult brother (who was a father to their grand child no less) was put in isolation as an adult time out. After watching their relationship deteriorate, much like mine, I finally had enough. And so, during a lunch-time conversation over the phone, with these words I ended my relationship with my parents: "You are crazy". Nothing more, nothing less, and no explanation. It has been 5 years. Sometimes, like earlier this week, I am reminded that there are many joys I can't share with my family. I have a career I love, my older brother and I are close, and my wife and I bought/renovated a home (my father built and renovated many things while I was a child - I wish more than anything I could show him what I've learned). But the thing I keep coming back to, is that I don't have parents. Those things I wish for, that relationship, exists as much right now as it does for those who parents are no longer alive. And it is with that I realize I don't long for my parents. I long for parents. I don't have advice for others, really. Every situation is different. But what I can say is that I am happy. I have a truly great life - grandparents who care, an older brother who is quirky but smart and funny, a wonderful wife, friends, home, job, pets. So do what you need to do to be happy, surround yourself with those who care, and don't bind yourself to people or situations that make you into your own enemy. It is never easy, it is never fair. But ultimately, be kind. Be the kind of person you want others to be to you. It's an old phrase but that doesn't make it old fashioned. Remember, we all have a history and are shaped by our environments. Compassion goes a long way.
7 Comments
Kate Blackford
3/6/2016 01:20:22 pm
This was an inspirationall story, but hard to read. As a parent and a friend, I just want to hug you a say how proud I am to watch you as you encourage and develop your students. There is a Father who will always be by your side...❤
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Karen Warsop
3/6/2016 03:14:41 pm
You are a survivor! You also have been very wise for your age to make the choices you made and have a made a wonderful life for yourself. Thanks for sharing your story. Yes, I am sure that someone out in cyberspace will need to hear this story and this will help them to know that they are not alone. Thanks for being in the Grace Lutheran family for so many years.
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Stephanie Sredzinski
4/8/2016 05:59:28 am
Thank you for sharing I am sure it was slightly theraputic, it has been awesome watching you grow through the years. You are such an amazing and inspiring person, I am lucky to have had you touch my life. I hope that soon we can see each other more than just through the computer!
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11/12/2022 09:45:15 am
Like moment left member whole old country use. So action assume interview between.
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8/15/2023 11:57:57 pm
We appreciate you sharing this fantastic content with us. Even though it covered practically everything a person needs to know, the text was nonetheless incredibly informative and simple to understand. Well done!
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