Like, everywhere I go (home, work, the fucking checkout line at the grocery store), I always seem to end up being the sane, rational voice / mediator.
I just want to be the crazy one for once.
Fellow parentified sons & daughters represent.
They’re halfway their sixties now and I still have to mediate their squabbles.
Yes because I’m terrible at it.
You’re worried about your reputation because you know people will remember you at your worst. Most people aren’t. Most people don’t care if you see them freak out in public, they’ll just come back tomorrow at the same time and pretend it didn’t happen
Adult or parent?
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I am the adult in the room, but I refuse to give a shit.
I wouldn’t phrase it like that, many of the people I encounter having some weird moments, but one thing I find to be unusual is restraint from jumping to conclusions. Show any big or small quirk and people start making psychological remarks; you can’t go a day without someone doing something like referring to “that narcissist” or asking “do you have [insert thing here]” when you do something wrong or saying “you must have been sent by [insert random person who got banned from a place]” when you make the same complaints as someone who got in trouble for something.
It feels like we are in a raging sea of chaos… The other adults understand you. Go crazy! Scream into the wind.
