It's not just that I'm seeing my parents, though that is a big part of it -- it's that I really, really need a break and a vacation to reset, re-center, and re-focus myself as a human. My nerves are very frayed, and my capacity to handle stress is basically shot at this point. I am little more than a pile of tissue, bones, and caffeine, just trying to make it through each and every day. When I'm this tired and this frazzled, each day becomes a countdown, each day is one step closer to the release of work and home responsibilities for a week.
I desperately need to get out of this house, out of this state, for a while. As crazy as it sounds, I need the heat and sun and palm trees of North Carolina to heal me. I need the ocean air and waters to soothe me and center me. It is a pale substitute for Nova Scotia in the summer, but it is the beach. It is family. It is somewhat exotic meals I don't eat at home, new adventures to go on, and it is a place where I can, essentially, hold court -- the wife and I, as visiting family, the prodigal son returned and all that, are the stars of the show, the centers of attention.
I think to an extent that's a scarily large part of it for me. I love being able to sit with the family and, as mentioned, hold court. Suddenly, everything I say is interesting. Suddenly, people actually want to listen to me other than myself. I have tried to plot out stories in my head, things I want to tell my parents, aunt(s), and uncle, in great detail, down to phrasing and jokes. I become, for a very short window of a few days, the most interesting person in the room.
This is not, make no mistake, a sort of attention I normally crave. When we're with Daisy's parents or the family in Nova Scotia, I tend to be much more reserved and fade into the background a bit more; I am not the star of the show. I don't feel the need to constantly present how awesome I am, and I don't feel the need to impress or be constantly acknowledged. Those people know me, they know who I am and already know my sense of self, humor, and style, and I get to be myself with them every time I see them with zero pressure. It is different with my own family. But, deep down, I don't think I am a remarkable person -- I have lived a hard and sometimes interesting life, but I have two degrees and have basically wasted them by working as middle management for a middle-class salary for a telecommunications company for the past eleven years. I don't have kids, I have cats. Hell, I don't even drive anymore unless I absolutely have to, I no longer own a vehicle of my own, and I don't like to leave the house any more than absolutely necessary. Functionally, I am a nobody.
But, to my family, I am and always have been exceptional -- especially to my extended family like my aunts and uncles. I am the one who went to college and grad school to get those two degrees, I am the one who was able to escape West Virginia in his early twenties and make something of his life -- the scientist, the newspaper reporter, the professor, the telecom executive. My mother, who is retired but still works part time, makes less than half per year than I make just by myself. My salary has now topped what both of my parents each made during their full-time working years before retirement. And to add to all of this, I've lost twenty more pounds since I saw my parents last year. At the same time, my parents are disconnected from me for the most part -- they know the old me, the Brandon of his teens and twenties, and I am a wholly different person now in my day to day life than I was back then. There's so much they've missed of my life, there's so much more to share with them when we visit than there ever was before.
When I am with my parents or I am around other family members, my personality ramps up. I become Maximum Brandon, in all senses of that term. It is not a mask or facade; it is who I really am deep inside, who I want to be, who I want everyone to know I am but don't have the energy or effort to exude that in daily life at home in Omaha (or, if I do, it's pointless because it's just me, Daisy, and the cats here).
Yes, I will carefully pack and repack my clothing for the trip to create the best possible impression/image of myself while I'm there, an image that expresses who I am. Yes, I will eschew the reliable Fitbit for the flashier, fancier-looking smartwatch with the gigantic watch face and the blaze-orange band. Yes, I will wear the pork-pie hat, meticulously craft and shape my facial hair, moisturize my tattoos every day for maximum sharpness and brightness, and make sure the hair on my head is re-dyed as black as possible a few days before we leave. I will bring my best attitude, my best jokes, the best parts of me all to the table. I will look my best, I will sound my best, I will exude the presence I want to exude around my family.
You might think all of this sounds tiring, and it is. It is exhausting. It's the equivalent of burning the candle at both ends, or leaving a light bulb on until it weakens and burns out. When I'm on these trips, ironically, I am surviving on large amounts of coffee and energy drinks because they're the only things that will keep me going hard enough to do everything we want to do while we're there. This year Daisy and I have zero real plans or expectations -- we are attending the parents' birthday dinner at the local Mexican place (which does have a good amount of vegan/vegetarian options, actually) the night after we arrive, and for the first three days of the trip, we'll be able to see my aunt(s) and uncle -- they arrive in NC at almost the exact time we will be wheels-down at the airport. But, other than that? There's precisely nothing that I must do while we're there. Yes, I'd like to go to Gabe's at least once. Yes, I'd like for Daisy and I to go have a nice romantic dinner somewhere, but other than that? Give me beach time, give me time in the ocean and time on the back porch with my parents.
And when night falls and the dust settles and everyone sleeps? I can stick my earbuds in my ears and drift off to podcasts, or my music, and finally turn off the rest of the planet. The early mornings before everyone else is awake are nice like that too.
My mother, I have a feeling, is going to be far more sentimental on this trip than she has been on previous ones. I know she's scared about her upcoming surgery, and she will have her sister(s) in town two houses down for the first half of the time we're there. She is likely to get weepy and the alcohol involved likely won't help that much. But, it is what it is -- I am not in control of that and it is not my responsibility to be. Any and all responsibility I felt to "deal with" my mother ended when I moved out of the house in 2006.
It is not a secret that we're landing in NC a few days before my parents' birthday (yes, as I have mentioned here before, they share the same birthday, ten years apart -- dad is older). As such, we come bringing gifts. When we've gone down there over the past few years, it's been after their birthday, and the present has been...us. This year it's not just us, but also stuff we're bringing them. Daisy got some nice new bath towels for my mother, and I got some gift cards for her and a few other little things. For my dad I told Daisy I'd handle it, and have gotten him some books, a shirt, several small things, a flash drive filled with new music, and I'm giving him my old Fitbit complete with extra watch covers and charging cables.
My goal is still to return home with much less in my backpack than I carried down there, and I don't think anything is going to change that. As I've mentioned here, I have enough souvenir t-shirts from the island to last me a lifetime, and nearly as many from Myrtle Beach from the past two years too. If I pick up anything new this year along those lines, it'll have to be really special. I don't need shoes or sandals purchased from beach stores -- I've already gotten two new pairs of sneakers this year and probably five pairs of sandals. I don't even really need a new hoodie, though I've bought one the past two years I was down there because they're so comfortable in the winter. This year I'm more about the experience, the relaxation and disconnection I can only achieve when I am on an island in a beach community far from Nebraska and far from my job.
We are, however, going to miss the cats terribly. Charlie and Gary have never been without us since we adopted them, and both boys are pretty needy for attention and affection. I don't know what they'll make of it when we leave for a week. According to the parents, who stopped by to take care of the cats last year when we were in NC, Mable (who was, at the time, a kitten) was very confused and attention-hungry every time they visited because she was so used to being around us all the time. I think she'll manage it better this time around, as she is fully recovered from her surgery and just likes to cuddle up with Pete and the young boys. Hank and Emmy just sleep more when we're gone -- they know at this juncture we'll be back soon enough, and both of them are very independent cats. Pete, while very old and I worry about him every day as he winds down, has the companionship of all of the babies, and all of them take care of him and love on him (well, Hank doesn't anymore, but he used to). And, all things considered, he seems to be doing pretty well for his old age. Still, it's going to be difficult to be apart from all of them. They are all my heart and soul. They, along with Daisy, are my world.
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