You Can't Sweat The Small Stuff

Recently, I wrote an essay about the nature of my relationship with three of my closest friends. Since then, I’ve been thinking of how I interact with everyone else in my life: my sister, my brother, my mom and dad. For the most part, we all get along, but there are times we don’t. Sometimes we bicker, and argue, like puppies fighting over a bone. This is especially true of the relationship I have with my dad.

In the last few weeks he has been home on disability, and for me, that is a few weeks too long. It is his obsessive habits that have me pulling my hair out in groves. I have had enough of him constantly pestering me about cleaning this, or tidying that. One night in particular, I had a few friends over to watch a pay-per-view fight. One stipulation of having everybody over was that I had to clean up after they all went home. That was fine with me. However, given the nature of the night, and how much I ended up drinking, I decided any clean up was best left for the morning. We did organize our mess so it didn’t look as though a war had been fought in our living room, but this was not enough for my dad. In his mind, I should have cleaned the entire kitchen at two in the morning, even though I was quite drunk. The next day, we had a yelling match that left me fuming for the remainder of the afternoon.

Why did I get so mad? Was it over my dad’s obsessive need to keep everything clean, or was there something more? I know that sometimes when dealing with my dad I get the same twitch of frustration I experience when troubleshooting a windows program. The difference between the computer and my dad: I doubt I would start yelling at the computer. I don't think it is worth it to get all worked up over a trivial thing like an error message, so why am I getting so overwhelmed by a simple argument with my dad? There are things about my dad I love. There are things about him I admire and am proud of, but the rest I put up with because he’s family. Soon, I will be moving in with a few friends, and what if they don’t accept my messy habits? What if they have the compulsion to ensnare my life in the same iron fist of cleanliness belonging to my dad?

My dad and my future roommates are people; they are able to change, learn and grow. Perhaps, if I argued with my dad enough times, he would become easier going. Maybe he wouldn’t care about the small pile of cans, or the two left over pizza boxes. I am sure these things will always bug my dad. I am sure that all of my messy habits twist into him like a rouge screw, so we are bound to argue again. I suppose we could both work at our annoying habits and find a middle ground, but what is the point? I don’t think it is the fact that my dad wants to keep everything clean that bugs me; it is his strict approach that does it. My dad is authoritative, where I am liberal; my dad is practical, while I am a dreamer; my dad’s life is like a one way street, but mine has lanes for all of life’s avenues. For these reasons, I think we will always argue over trivial things like a mess. I am able to live with it because he is my dad, but what of everyone else?
I can only trudge on through life with a strong face. There will always be that person who speaks slightly too loud, or leaves a big mess all the time, or insists that all messes must be cleaned up immediately. All we can do is live with them. Try to fix the foibles in your life, and try to guide people away from theirs, but don't lose control over something so inconsequential...

You can't sweat the small stuff.

Daniel Chambers