Dear God, Please Don't Let Me End Up Like My Parents

(Warning. This is a long friggin' post)

I bet just about everyone has uttered that prayer once or twenty times, my kids included. But let me tell you, I've got reasons.

I don't know what it is, but it seems like everyone I know who is in my age group (mid-to-late 30's) is going through some kind of parental crisis. And I don't mean a paltry health crisis either, oh no, that would be too easy. I'm talking divorce (my husband's parents), finances (my parents) and health (pretty much everyone).

I've generally stayed away from stuff that's too personal on my sci-fi blog, mostly to protect my kids. But after spending a year in cyber space and meeting some very cool people, I think I can vent in a general way from time to time. I just won't use names, you know, to protect the guilty.

And you gotta vent, right?

Alrighty, let me fill in some details for those of you who've managed to stay curious about all this.

My parents. Where do I start? Deep breath. Okay.

I was adopted as an infant and for the most part I'd say I have no issues with that. But there is a weird disconnect that comes from knowing you are not blood related to the family that raised you. I grew up thinking that maybe the love I felt for my family wasn't as strong as it would have been had I been related by blood. That's ridiculous of course, but still, you can't blame a kid for not understanding that.

It took having my own kids to realize that the love is the same and for that I will always be grateful I had kids. But at the same time seeing yourself reflected in the face of your children and their mannerisms drives home the undeniable truth that no matter how much you wish it wasn't so, you are different from the people who raised you. I don't mean values and that sort of thing. But the truth is there are things that come with genetic bonds. Your doctor knows this is true, that's why they ask you about your family history every time you have a health concern.

In my family, like many, the issues related to substance abuse and manic-depression. My parents were fairly stable, though my dad has a tendency toward alcoholism and gambling and my mom --hell, I don't even know the story there. Okay, maybe not so stable.

Anyway, the reason I mention all that stuff is to kind of give a background so you understand how they got where they are now. On the surface my parents look normal, successful even. But my mom wouldn't have it any other way. She has always compulsively tried to make sure the world would look at us and see the ideal family. Oh dear God, who did she think she was kidding? But it was this drive to appear normal that has allowed her to ignore what has been in front of her face for 40 years. Our family is nuts.

More history-- I have three brothers. One I haven't seen in 10 years due to a bad meth and alcohol addiction. How bad? He was diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver and hepatitis C at 35 and told one good alcohol binge could kill him. Didn't slow him down. Last I heard he had somehow managed to get out of jail despite a weapons charge that included endangering a minor. He should never have been let out but he usually informs on his drug suppliers to get paroled and then leaves the state. Another brother moved to Missouri about 15 years ago and I seem him every 8 years or so. My third brother-whom I am closest with and love dearly, is manic depressive and moved to Thailand about 2 years ago. I get phone calls now and then.

Back to my parents. I've been nagging them for years to save money for retirement. My dad made a lot of money during his good earning years but they spent like crazy. They'd go on these month long vacations and stay in 5 star hotels. My dad once told me the tab on one vacation was $30k. So I bug my mom since my dad won't listen to me. I ask her what they have put aside for retirement and she tells me they're fine. I suggest that they cut their vacations in half and put away the money they'd save in a retirement account. She tells me, "oh it's your father who wants to take these vacations..." I'm thinking, what's that got to do with anything?

So I nag and they tell me I'm so tight I squeak. That's always been the family joke. Everyone in my family goes through money like water, but not me. For some reason I've always been very frugal, even as a kid. There's no reason for it, my parents never denied me anything. But for some reason I always had a different mentality about money-- one of the things I've kind of wondered if it could be inherited genetically, but probably not.

Once I got married and had kids I became too preoccupied to nag my parents too much about their health or their finances, but I did still try. My dad was a chain smoker for most of his life and I bugged him about that. He was always losing weight on the Atkins diet and then gaining it back-- and then some. My mom had fake boobs (that's a whoooole other counseling session) and they burst and made her really sick and she ended up with lupus and arthritis. My dad predictably ended up with diabetes and heart disease that culminated in a massive heart attack he barely survived.

Needless to say, their health is poor.

Oh but wait, there's more. Oh so much more.

The heart attack put my dad off his feet for almost a year. He'd had his own business for over 20 years but it was a one man shop and there was no one to take up the slack. I asked my mom about that, but everything was fine. But I knew that wasn't the case because my dad had taken a loan out against the house in a business gamble that was poorly thought out and didn't go well. I don't know how much he lost, but it wasn't pretty.

Fast forward two years or so. My brother comes home from Thailand to settle some business and he stays with my parents for a couple of months. He starts telling me they aren't doing well financially. I knew it was bad but I didn't know the extent of it. My brother tells me he loaned my dad $100k, and I'm thinking, wow it is bad. So I bring it up with my mom to try to find out how bad. She didn't know about the loan. Boy, my mom can wear blinders with the best of them.

Cut to the final tally-- $600k borrowed against the house and $200k+ on the credit cards. Holy crap! $800k+ in debt and my dad's business was losing money. My mom makes my dad shut down shop since it's losing money-- and here's the kicker-- my dad doesn't go back to work claiming his health is too poor. WTF? He's been getting up and going to work everyday up to that point but now that the debt is so bad he can't see daylight he quits working altogether? Oh wait, I get it, he thinks he can sell their house for enough money to cover the debt and then some. Except he forgot that the California housing market is going into the crapper.

I found about all this about a year and a half ago.

So my dad's brilliant idea is to sell the house to cover everything. And it might have worked had they sold the house a year and a half ago. But they decided to go to Thailand since my brother and his wife were expecting a baby. They stayed 6 weeks. They come home and tell me they've decided they're now going to sell the house and move to Thailand. Okaaaaaay. Actually, this is okay. They can live on social security and get pretty good health care much cheaper than here. And because my dad can't go to a McDonald's everyday and further abuse his health his blood sugar is the best it's ever been. I tell them I whole-heartedly support the plan.

So you'd think they were on the fast-track to sell the house right? Um, no.

My dad dinks around for several months supposedly getting the house ready, but really he's just moving stuff from one pile to the next. My mom doesn't nag him to move along because she doesn't really want to move to Thailand and she's hoping for a last minute miracle. It doesn't come. January, they finally get the house on the market, but price it about $100k too high. This in a falling market too. My husband and I talk to the realtor and get their appraisal on the house and try to talk sense into my dad. He blows us off. My mom stops talking to me because she doesn't want to hear me nagging anymore. My dad starts smoking again, and my mom won't do anything about that because she doesn't want to stress out my dad any further. Yeah, those cigarettes aren't stressing out his arteries at all.

At about this time my in-laws start in on their divorce crisis-- I will probably go into this later. It's just too good a story to pass up.

So the house sits for months and as far as I know, no offers. Then I find out they did get an offer but my dad rejected it because it was too low. My mom tells me the offer was for $700k, but I later find out it was $785k. But my mom's lies are nothing new (my dad is actually my step-dad, though he's the only dad I've ever known. She told me years ago he couldn't legally adopt me because her ex wouldn't sign off on the adoption. But during the purge of all their stuff she inadvertently gave me a copy of a letter dated 1977 giving my dad consent to adopt me. Nice huh? But I'm used to it. Sort of.)

Where was I? Oh yeah.

Eight months later my dad finally realizes the house is priced too high. He lowers it to $800k (it was at $950K in the beginning). Alright, we're making progress. He's also really regretting he didn't take that earlier offer.

Now they sit. They've sold off most of their stuff to keep the rent paid but they've finally run out of money and stopped paying the mortgage. They are praying they can sell before the house forecloses. My brother who lent them the $100k is now broke and calls me periodically for money. Sigh. We don't have a big enough house to have them move in with us and did I mention, we live in California? It's still crazy expensive here and we can't buy a big enough house for all of us.

And I am ashamed to admit, in moments of reflection, like this, that I'm glad I'm adopted. I don't have an addictive personality, manic depression, heart disease, diabetes and all the other stuff in the bloodline. Of course I don't know what I do have to contend with, but maybe that's a gift.

So we all sit on eggshells. I blog about my personal stuff because I don't have anyone to talk to about this. We moved almost every year growing up (I went to 11 different schools) so I don't have any childhood friends and frankly, I'm not good at making them as an adult. And really, is it fair of me to dump this on some poor unsuspecting soul?

Oh wait, I just did.