Day 19 #SOl21 Contemplating Over Responsibility

 

Family vacations are my jam. However, they also cause a tiny bit of anxiety because there's a story I tell myself that goes something like this . . .

"Everyone must be happy at all times. Each member of the family should get to do things they want to do. It's your job to orchestrate and manage the experience. Downtime is fine, but make sure everyone's needs are met. Flexibility matters, but it's also helpful to have a plan."

Our crew sleeps late and we ease into the day. As we sip our coffee and try to determine how the hours ahead might go, I throw out an open-ended question that I immediately wish I could take back, "So what's the plan?" This inquiry hangs in the air like a vapor in a cloudless sky. 

Crickets.

A shoulder shrug.

And my all-time favorite response, "We don't care. We're up for anything!"

I interpret all of these noncommittal replies to mean, "You decide, and if we don't like what you plan we will blame you." Clearly, I have some unresolved issues. 

I'm not a Type A person. Most of the time, when it comes to travel, spontaneity and whimsy are my favorite. But when Chris and I take trips with our adult children, something shifts inside of me. My childhood trauma kicks into high gear and a sense of over-responsibility rears it's ugly head. 

So I rally the troops and we make our way to Hyde Park, IL, where the Obama's once lived. Chris navigates us to the Kissing Rock and I'm down right giddy. This was not on our "list of things to do" but I think folks are having a good time. It's 34° degree outside, and Hunter suggests we find a place to get coffee. I start Googling. I try to map us somewhere. We pay to park and the place is closed, which means we must walk elsewhere. It feels like everyone is looking to me to solve the problem, so I say, "We can just walk up a few blocks." But I've unknowingly dropped a pin and I map us to the middle of nowhere. 

We turn one way. We turn another way. We walk half a mile in the wrong direction. And then I lose it. "Stop! No more walking! Get out your phones. You do the mapping. I'm spatially challenged, so ya'll map us to a new location!" As I hastily bark commands, everyone stops in their tracks and stares. My outburst has made them uncomfortable, and I'm immediately flooded with embarrassment. Resentment is not a good color on me. 

Thankfully, we find a coffee shop just a few feet away. The damage has been done. I've made a scene. I apologize and try to explain, but my words fail me. The moment passes as quickly as it came, and we go about our day. I learned a long time ago that expectations are premeditated resentments, yet from time to time,I still find myself slipping into old ways of thinking and behaving. This is what I do. I care take. I worry, I over analyze. Geez. 

I hope this one fleeting moment is not what the kids remember. They might though. When people lose their shit, it tends to be memorable. When my prefrontal cortex is operating at peak performance, I can quiet the voices in my head that tell me I am responsible for other people's sense of well-being. But sometimes our lizard brain takes over, and all we can do is pause, reflect, and try to do better. 

For the rest of the trip, I will attempt to stay aware of when over-responsibility manifests. Working my shit out on other people never ends well. And I will let go of all the nonsense that tells me it's my job to make everyone around me happy. Off to Milwaukee we go!