LIFE LESSONS

YOU ARE NOT AT FAULT!

I will call them 'Shelley' and 'Darren' but you can substitute these names for any others. The names don't matter. What matters is that they are parents. They have three boys, a sixteen year old, a twelve year old and a five year old. The youngest two are on Ritalin. I only found this out when I visited them very recently, staying at their house up North.

I knew them from our years on the Peninsula. Their oldest boy is Marcus' best friend; the two boys have continued this friendship online after Shelley and Darren decided to move to Cairns almost three years ago. We saw them briefly just once since then, when they visited us for the day, over the last Christmas holidays.  

I have come away from spending five days and three nights in that household. I have come away with a range of emotions, from outrage to helplessness to regret... I have come away screaming inside, my mind struggling to 'work through' the various impressions leaving deep scars.

This series is dedicated to the younger generations, so despite the awfulness of these impressions, I have posted this piece here - so I can speak to 'the children' in this instance.

You cannot choose your parents. Nor can you easily discard them, the way you do with friends you no longer like. You are stuck with them - at least until you reach the age where you can legally remove yourself from their environment. The biggest part of your childhood is spent under their 'care' however, whatever form this care manifests into.

Shelly and Darren are both heavy drinkers. They also use 'recreational' and some not-so recreational drugs - like dipping into the Ritalin - on Shelley's part. They also both smoke cigarettes in and out of the house.

Their pantry is full of 'chemical' snacks and the fridge full of ready-made microwave meals and an assortment of sugary drinks. Her morning wake-up hit, is a litre bottle of Coke. His is just cigarettes. The kids have bowls full of multi-coloured 'cereal'.

Dinner consists mostly of take-outs, alternating between an assortment of deep-fried stuff and chips, Domino's pizza, (only 'meats') McDonald's and KFC. There are no fruits or vegetables in the house. I saw no 'food preparation' other than morning cereal. 

Darren returns home from work and his first action is to hit the fridge for either a can of bourbon and coke or a beer. This to and fro continues until he falls asleep on a mattress on the floor in the living-room - he and his wife having stopped sleeping together months ago. Shelley drinks most of the day, popping the odd pill now and again in-between.She alternates between watching TV and spending time on Facebook, interracting or playing 'games'.

There's a lot of yelling. Some raised hands (connecting briefly once or twice) - I saw them and felt the helplessness of a bystander. Orders are barked. Threats flow. There is no unity. The kids each have their own rooms, with their computers and their TVs and spend most of their days and nights hidden in there. There is no sense of 'family'.

I am being brutal here, describing things as I witnessed them. Down on the Peninsula, there had been some visible problems, but living in the area I never spent extended time with them. This occasion however, I got to study the dynamic in this household up close.

The kids: The oldest, is at the moment immersed in his first 'serious' relationship with a girl. She is almost sixteen. He spends his time 'chatting to her on his phone' - even though we were visiting, meaning he was seeing his friend for a very limited time. Shelly was quite proud of the 'love bite' near his navel and loudly showed it off to me and the boys, joking about the 'location' and its proximity to 'other parts'. Her son is allowed to sleep in his girlfriend's room. Both sets of parents are okay with this.