The Kind that Bind

At the start of a road trip from San Francisco to Los Angeles with her family over the holidays, Miss Cheapist enjoyed the intimacy of the parent/child relationship. She reveled in being able to have mature, non-judgmental conversations with her mother where “active listening” prevailed. It was initially comforting to be with someone who knew her every flaw and made sure she stayed hydrated and ate fruits and vegetables. Miss Cheapist even entertained the fantasy of moving closer to her mother, for good. But after days of zipping through long highways, dry canyons, palm-lined boulevards and broad coastlines, she unconsciously began to regress into her 15-year old self. The car walls folded in on her, and she wanted to argue, sulk, and respond defensively, even without provocation. Not even an “In-and-Out” burger along Highway 101 took the edge off as she struggled with the contradictory impulses to draw her family closer, and at the same time, pull away. All this made her wonder, is it an asset or a liability to live near those who reared us? What is our obligation to our parents as adults, and can we afford to be cheap?

According to H., a childhood friend who moved to Manhattan immediately after graduating from an unnamed Northeastern women’s college, the city is divided into two groups: A) those who stayed/moved back into the city and remain close to their parent(s) and B) those who left their hometowns with many dreams, uncertain of when they would return home and reestablish those bonds. On this same topic, H. also offered an observation about “Sex and the City,” commenting that although the show thoroughly reviewed many topics, rarely were parents and their influence on urban life explored. Why? Is family too complicated to be sexy?

Western psychoanalytic theory argues that in order to fully thrive, one must separate herself from her parents and develop an independent identity. Yet many native New Yorkers, even those who worship at the altar of analysis, still cherish those ties that bind, living in their parents’ homes (or next door), having weekly dinners, seeking advice on all major decisions, relying on familiar networks for employment, and frequenting the establishments they grew up with. To a certain extent, this loyalty and closeness is enviable; in a city that is based upon relationships and insular communities, who wants to start from ground zero all the time? The benefits of maintaining a commitment to ones family are innumerable, and those who weather the highs and lows seem to be well rewarded. On the outside, it appears that tolerating the low level buzz of dysfunction is a cost worth taking on. After all, we were probably far more annoying as teenagers.

But for many, such closeness makes it difficult to break from the conventions and expectations of childhood. Even if we experienced periods of rebellion, it becomes so easy to reinforce the past. Deep into our thirties, we wonder if we can even recognize ourselves in the thick of our own inherited prejudices and idiosyncrasies. For this reason just as many New Yorkers have left for other cities like San Francisco, Chicago, Shanghai and Buenos Aires, looking to gain space, find themselves, and put down new roots. However, is it so easy to just pick up and leave? As the years pass, there is increased responsibility to care for parents who, may become frail or just yearn for a closer connection to their children. Although many see this as a burden, there is nothing more satisfying that being able to provide for them as adults, and to have few regrets about abandonment or fears that our own children will do the same to us.

But what about Miss Cheapist? She moved away from home years ago filled with possibility of gaining greater opportunity in New York, wanting to make everyone proud of her accomplishments. With time and many transitions, Miss Cheapist discovered that one can live a morally sound, fun, and rather unexceptional life in New York, and dreams don’t easily transpire into reality. And worse, many of her native New Yorker friends do inaccurately view her as indulged in her autonomy, and belonging to a tribe of people who have temporarily settled here. Although the city, her relationship to a lifelong mate and the mission of her profession still holds great meaning for her, Miss Cheapist is always haunted by the possibility that she may be making a terrible mistake. Is she being emotionally cheap by maintaining this distance, or is she waiting to mature into someone with greater resilience, and perhaps even more needed? As she wrestles with this matter, she can’t take for granted that it is a luxury to have a happy and healthy parent. She can afford a bit of freedom, but not ingratitude. For the time being, she will remain a child.