Whoever said you can't go home was right.

I guess it hits all of us at some point, the disgruntlement that so easily creeps in during the holiday season. I've had my share of it this year, and I'm going to vent!

First, I missed a flight to Cincinnati on the busiest traveling day of the year and, due to major weather problems, couldn't get an alternative flight that wouldn't get me there late and leave me spending most of the weekend alone in strange cities--and then only if I managed not to get stranded in Chicago. So I missed out on seeing Over the Rhine's two-night anniversary concert with Eric and Sara, which was a bitter disappointment.

There was an upside, though...I got to spend the weekend with Ryan instead. And that Saturday night, Eric called from the concert while the band played my favorite song. I put my cell phone on speaker and laid it on the table, then closed my eyes and soaked it in: the distorted sounds coming through the phone, the lyrics I couldn't understand but knew by heart, and the gratitude for my wonderful friends who had me in their hearts. Ryan saw the tears in my eyes and moved closer, while the song itself perfectly expressed my feelings about that moment, about him and my friends, and about life in general.

Pour me a glass of wine
Talk deep into the night
Who knows what we'll find

Intuition, deja vu
The Holy Ghost haunting you
Whatever you got I don't mind

I was born to laugh
I learned to laugh through my tears
I was born to love
I'm gonna learn to love without fear

Put your elbows on the table
I'll listen long as I am able
There's nowhere I'd rather be...

We spent the rest of the night drinking wine and listening to music. My weekend was salvaged, to say the least.

Alas, not everything turned out so well. The morning I missed my flight, my mom had to come back and pick me up from the airport, and that was when the bullshit began to get out of hand.

"Well, it was a hair-brained idea to go to a concert the weekend before Christmas anyway," she declared. "There, I said it!"

"You can call it hair-brained if you want," I replied with a steely sort of calm. "It wasn't my idea anyway."

She seemed relieved that I'd be home where I belonged for the weekend, but her relief turned to disapproval as soon as I told her I was going to Oklahoma City. Why not? My Christmas shopping was done, my bags were already packed, and everything was squared away for me to be gone.

This was when my mom decided to unload about how my dad rants and raves to her about everything I do. I've been out of town a lot--seeing Ryan in OKC, visiting his family in various other parts of Oklahoma, taking a well-deserved vacation, etc. Apparently my dad feels I'm neglecting my obligations and doesn't like that I leave my cats in my mom's (not his) care so often. He's also apparently very bothered by the fact that (he assumes) I'm not looking for a job and he seems to be under the impression that I'm planning to live with my parents forever, remain unemployed and continue to let my hellion cats run rampant in his house. And he doesn't like the way (he thinks) I manage my money. She doesn't mind all these things, she assured me. But she has to listen to him complain about them, and she doesn't like that.

"That is not my problem," I told her, a determined calm taking the place of what in the past might have been crippling guilt or blind fury. "If he has a problem with anything I do, he's welcome to discuss it with me. But I am not responsible for guessing how he feels or what he thinks, and I'm not going to spend my life bending over backwards trying to please him or anyone else." She seemed to find this argument fairly sound, and I continued to explain that my goal in life right now is to do what I feel is best and what makes ME happy.

I talked it over with Ryan later that day and received confirmation that my parents were being ridiculous and treating me like a child. Furthermore, my father was trying to control things that are none of his business and was showing a total lack of confidence in my ability to function as an independent adult. I was livid.

My parents were kind to let me live with them, yes. But there were no overt conditions attached...only the invisible strings of guilt and shame that can be used to manipulate me after they've pretended to love and support me unconditionally. Do they think I don't know it's a pain in the ass to have my four cats here? Do they really think I WANT to stay here with them any longer than necessary?

Fuck that!!!

I was home just a few days for Christmas before I left town again to spend a couple of days at Grand Lake with Ryan's mom and step dad. Fortunately, with all the relatives around I was shielded a bit from my parents' disapproval, at least for the holidays. But they started on me again as soon as we returned from the lake last night.

My sister had cleaned out the attic, removing numerous boxes of stuff she'd saved from childhood. I was next, my dad informed me (implying that somehow I'm crowding them out of their house by keeping a few things in their attic while I live here and that the stuff all needs to go now). Then my mom suggested that maybe I'd like to move those boxes in the hallway into the attic now that there's room. I reminded here that those boxes are transitional, that I'm gradually collecting things to either give away or take to storage eventually...just as I've explained to her before.

That was when my disgust with all of this began to really take hold. What about asking how my visit with Ryan's family went? How about making a little conversation with Ryan instead of staring at the TV? We eventually went upstairs, where my cats were shut up in their rooms while my parents' demon cat "Precious" had his turn being out of lock down. It's not like we went up to my bedroom and shut the door so we could make out or something...nor is it anyone's business what we were doing.

Still, everything seemed ridiculous and I felt like a fucking teenager.

Here's the thing: I am looking for a job at a pace that I'm comfortable with. I don't pay rent, but then no one ever asked me to. I have money, and I support myself. How much money I have and how I spend it is no one's business but mine. What I do with my free time is for me to decide, and my only obligations are to make sure my cats are cared for, and to be there for my family when they need my help (if they ask for it!). I have never made any kind of contract giving anyone the right to tell me how to live my life, or subjecting myself to an unspecified quantity of guilt to be dispensed at another person's discretion. NOTHING entitles anyone--not even my parents--to make decisions for me or to judge me for the life I choose.

Then there's the unsolicited advice. It's part of the reason I don't attend my family's church. I'm still pretty burned up about the pastor's suggestion that I should "start getting rid of cats, get married and have some real babies." But it's more than that. I can't bear the thought of being asked several times every week where I'm working these days or how the job search is going. I don't have the mental or emotional strength to continuously decline offers for help getting jobs I don't want, or to explain how I know what I want to do with my life in general but when it comes to the specifics I'm going on blind faith.

And I cannot endure one more pessimistic warning not to wait too long to look for a job because the economy is so bad and lots of people are out of work these days. Maybe it's ignorance, or arrogance, or complete denial...I refuse to live in fear.

I refuse parental guilt trips, and I refuse to feel shame for loving my life. I refuse to speculate on the feelings and opinions of those who choose not to discuss them in a calm, rational manner--or who choose not to discuss them at all.

Something I WILL do, however, is start looking for a job in earnest as soon as I return from my New Year's trip to Philly. I will reclaim the missing pieces of my dignity and get a place of my own where I can dance naked, let my cats run rampant, drink 'till I pass out on the couch, have my boyfriend spend the night, and come and go as I please with only the cats to scold me, and then usually only if I'm late with dinner.