quick fixes & big problems: why I estranged my family

The cedar chest

I had this cedar chest as a kid that I used as a coloring table. The lid slammed on my hands a few times, so I grew to hate it and didn’t have it for much of my life.

I got it back in adulthood and shared my plans of turning it into an ice cream sandwich-themed bench. Mimi, my grandmother, was appalled because it was an antique — and an expensive brand at that!

I started looking into how to fix and restore the chest myself, feeling obligated to restore it to how it originally looked even though it’s bad now.

One of the legs kept breaking off. Thorough investigating revealed to me that some of the legs were nailed in while others were screwed in — and the metal pieces were held in place with glue.

The inconsistency perturbed me. Anger and remembrance washed over me as I opened the chest to find the bottom was actually a different piece.

Someone had fixed this chest by gluing a piece of wood to the bottom of the chest, over the location of its legs, instead of fixing it properly. It was obvious different fixes had been applied, and I know it was likely the same person because I know her style.

Her voice echoed in my head, my inner critic. “Nothing a little glue and stain can’t fix!”

Quick fixes that look like crap and fall apart clutter my childhood memories.

Little things add up

One of the things my estranged family used to complain about and criticize me for was that I would always get upset over “random little things”.

Even now, I’m triggered trauma- and anger-wise when I come across something that is one of those so-called “little” things.

I think, to them, the things aren’t that big of a deal, because those things didn’t affect their lives.

For me, these little things are the epitome of my upbringing. Things that were fixed horribly, with Duct tape or glue are my whole life — literally and metaphorically!

After a while, you can’t fix something with tape or glue anymore, because it’s not going to stick.

The cedar chest was beyond repairing; the only way to “fix it” would be taking it apart entirely and rebuilding it. By that point, it’d not be the original with the antiquity value because the materials would be new.

So many quick fixes were applied that it was screwed up beyond simple repairing, whereas it could have been fine long-term if it’d been mended properly originally.

No conflict resolution

If I mentioned something was broken, the fix was always glue or Duct tape.

Why bother fixing metal bed frames when you can use a drill and some wood? Who cares if it’s a tripping hazard, as long as it works for now?

They criticized me, calling me “ungrateful” and “high-maintenance”, because I wanted more than the bare minimum. I wanted to fix things properly, so they wouldn’t break again.

I wanted to resolve conflict in the present so as to prevent reaching the boiling point in the future. Everything I learned at school about relationships and self-care was useless.

Healthy relationships have open, honest communication where people feel safe sharing their thoughts, feelings and ideas. Conflict is resolved, not ignored.

My estranged family members preferred sweeping anything negative under the rug so as to “be happy” instead.

Band-Aids don’t fix bullet holes

I remember these so-called little things, and I’m so angry. It reminds me of the trauma that I experienced as a kid, because it was like putting a Band-Aid on a bullet hole.

You can’t see the bullet hole if you cover it up, after all. You might even forget about it as you smile through the pain.

As an adult, I’d try talking through the trauma and holding them accountable for doing things that affected my entire life long-term.

They turned my claims about them keeping score back onto me, saying I was the one “stuck living in the past”.

Criticizing me, hitting me, and neglecting me were all minuscule moments for them, whereas that was my entire life.

Band-Aids are for minor cuts, not deep wounds.

The cedar chest is complete trash. The antiquity is gone, because they screwed it up and still insisted that it’s an antique I should cherish.

Quick fixes fall apart

I think of this old quilt that I had growing up, that I’m sitting on as I write this. Mimi “fixed” it by sewing the back onto another old quilt.

To keep my childhood blanket in my life, I’m creating a new quilt as my learning-to-sew project — by hand. Everywhere she had thread has come apart because it was loose to begin with.

Some spaces in the original blanket were too thin to salvage and easily ripped open — a consequence of the loose threading.

My inner critic scoffs. At least she fixed it. Isn’t that enough? What more do I honestly need? I should be grateful she even bothered fixing it this much, because she definitely didn’t have to.

I wanted more as a child and continue to as an adult. I needed more than the bare minimum.

I was conditioned to accept the gratitude trap as true gratuity. If I asked for fries as a kid and someone brought home cold fries from McDonald’s, at least I had fries.

Even though someone gifted me beauty products I’m allergic to, at least they gifted me something!

I had to be grateful for lower than the bare minimum and earn my right to receive the bare minimum.

I was tired of being a quick fix.

I was tired of them gaslighting me.

Their reason for their behavior was always,

“I have never said or done anything to you that my mother/parents wouldn’t have said or done to me.”

After hearing it one too many times, I realized they didn’t have a problem repeating cycles of abuse and utilizing temporary solutions.

I was the only one who had an issue with that lifestyle.

I was the only one who wanted more out of life.

I was the only one who felt that life wasn’t worth living, who felt an unsatisfactory and unfulfilling life was pointless.

I was the only one who wanted meaningful, fulfilling relationships with people. I was the only one who wanted to befriend people outside the family, travel outside of Texas, and genuinely live my life to the fullest.

Temporary solutions

I think, to an extent, some of them desperately want that as well.

I think the cycle is taking such a toll on them, as they self-medicate with shared prescriptions and their own antidepressants.

They don’t feel their feelings, don’t learn to feel them, can’t tolerate accepting them — anything that isn’t toxic positivity wrapped in a forced smile is quickly dismissed or heavily medicated.

There was a time when I, too, believed I needed antipsychotics to avoid depression and negative thoughts. I know and understand that medication truly does work for the people who need it.

What changed my entire perspective, however, was a change of environment — time and distance away from my family. Meeting people who lived life differently from me exposed me to the lies my family told me and the life I could have lived.

I still grieve the childhood I could have had.

Most of all, though, I learned the interpersonal problem was not me specifically. I learned the unhealthy relationship dynamics that existed within the relationships we shared were because they, too, had been conditioned to accept that as the norm.

To them, I was the problem because I refused to know and accept my “place”. I was the problem because I was “so ungrateful and unappreciative” of the bare minimum relationship standards they’d said.

To them, I was the problem for reasons I’ve since learned are not directly because of me. The issues they had with me speak more about them than they do about myself.

In other words…I was their quick fix that couldn’t be so quickly fixed anymore.

I had to tear my life apart completely so I could build a new one that worked for me, rather than against me.

Quick fixes fall apart again and again.

Quick fixes are temporary solutions to problems you choose to avoid instead of facing.

The original problem continues to exist despite quick fixes applied and will wreak havoc on the relationship/system repeatedly.

Quick fixes are more expensive and cause more damage over time. They were the epitome of my childhood and ultimately why I cut my family off from my life.