You'll regret this in five years, my father told me last month, the same line he's
used at least a dozen times since I told my parents what I want to do
with my career, sitting at the same dinner table where this argument always seems to happen.
It's not that they're unreasonable in every part of their life, just immovable on this one topic, as if the
subject itself triggers a script neither of them can step outside of. Every conversation, no matter how calmly I open
it, ends up circling back to a cousin who chose the safer path, or a reminder of what they sacrificed
to put me through college, which adds guilt on top of whatever frustration I walked in with in the first place.
I've started rehearsing what I'll say before family gatherings now, the way you'd prepare for a difficult meeting at work, because
I know someone will ask about my plans in that pointed way meant to reinforce their side rather than hear mine.
I used to think the right conversation or the right piece of proof
would eventually shift things, a good year at work, a raise, something concrete they
couldn't argue with no matter how they tried. It hasn't really worked that way,
not yet at least, and I've stopped expecting it to on any particular timeline.
What's changed instead is that I've stopped needing their approval before making a decision, which took longer
than I expected and still costs me something every time dinner conversation turns toward my future instead of
staying on safer ground. I still love spending time with them outside of this one subject, we can
talk for hours about anything else without friction, film, food, whatever's happening with the extended family that week.
This is just the one room in the house we don't go into together anymore, and I've mostly made
peace with keeping the door shut rather than forcing it open every few months hoping this time will be different.