03 Aug 2021

I grew up in a really hippie, free, liberated household. My 'rents let me follow whatever I felt like, from violin to tae kwon do. They supported me no matter how good or bad I was and trust me, I was pretty shocking at tae kwon do. But my dream was to be like The Karate Kid so they drove me to every session. 

They were always empathetic and understanding - I was young. They had unrealistic dreams and aspirations when they were young, back in their day. Dad would share embarrassing stories of trying to ask girls out, mum would share times of drinking waaay too much. We were comfortable talking about anything; sex, drugs, and astral projection (seriously, I told you that they were hippies).

 

My friends all worshipped my parents, so much so that when they asked to come over, I wondered if it was more than just hanging out with me - was it to see my 'rents too? They all wanted to see my dad act as different characters while mum would crank music and dance like a nutter. They all wanted to hear their wild storied or see what creative project they were working on, whether it was a song, a mosaic, a painting or a novel. 

From a young age, I worshipped my parents too. I thought they were perfect in every way and everything I wanted to become. 

I treated their advice as gospel and shared their stories like myths and legends. I still kept them up on a pedestal even after I moved out of home. If I ever had a problem, they were the first people I would call. 

I missed them like crazy when I moved out of home (but trust me, I called them all the time). After three years of living away from them and growing into my own, corona pulled the rug from underneath all of us and I had to move back home. 

Moving back in with my 'rents after having so much time apart and being 21 was whack. The pedestal I'd kept them on for so long finally came crumbling down.

I still love them with all my heart, even moreso now. But finally, I saw them just as they were: parents that human beings just like the rest of us.

I watched my dad get rejected from job after job. I watched my mum cry after losing a best friend. I watched them bicker over petty, insignificant things. I listened to dad rant about slow walkers in the shopping centre and mum rant about co-workers treating her like a doormat.

With getting older and understanding the happenings of the world, my rose coloured glasses finally came off and I started noticing their flaws and what makes them dang human.

I still think they are the most red hot people on the planet but I know now that sometimes their advice maybe isn't the best. They don't have all the answers like I thought they did. After all, they make the same mistakes like we all do.

You can feel unbalanced when you realise that your parents are just people too but it's also the time when you can have a yarn over all the stupid things you hid from them as a kid. When you can have deep and meaningful conversations. When you can give them advice. At least for me, it's when the fun really began.