i didn't expect that spending 6 days away from my family would make me grow a fonder appreciation for them. in fact, i viewed the trip as a getaway from just that. an escape from those i share a home with. however, as soon as i felt the dull rumble of the plane as the ground fell farther beneath me, i knew i'd be coming home in a week with some souvenirs and a little more love.
i guess i should be more grateful. growing up the stoic indifference towards my parents and childish aggravation towards my brothers that just happened to be the default began to bloom into the frustration of wanting freedom and coveting the way my siblings were raised differently because of their gender. more so recently, being a (gagging noise) teenager and all. but coming to the realization that my parents really are not out to get me, they're just raising me the way that they were taught how, is sort of bittersweet.
am i still frustrated? yes. but do i have the same lack of empathy towards my parents as i used to? no. i understand a little more now. and i'll just have to sit tight and endure it in this weird stage of life.