In-Laws Follow No Laws
This occurred many years ago, before the turn of the millennium, when I was but a wee “innocent” fifteen-year-old. I was also a very late baby for my parents compared to everyone else in the family (my half-brother was fifteen years older than me and in the middle of everyone else’s tightly packed ages), so everyone in “my” generation was already a grown adult, and anyone in “the next” was still three or less. And being in this weird middle-ground caused even more issues than normal, basically all the out-of-the-loop of being an only child without the stereotypical fawning attention.
It was bad enough that the now-grown “kids” were conversing with the recently-become-grandparents and great-aunts-and-uncles about adult things; I was well used to people talking “around” me while I was left in my own little world. More and more often, though, they were also now talking OVER me as I was trying to include myself in conversations, because I wasn’t just a little introverted child playing with his toys by himself anymore.
Admittedly, I was also in the middle of my “angsty teenager” phase, but in general, I didn’t really have much in my direct life to angst over; it was just very frustrating being ignored and verbally pushed aside any and every time I tried to interact in the most basic of ways.
Cue Thanksgiving.
My mom’s already huffy that I wore jeans and a plain t-shirt to the dinner table instead of “dressing nice,” despite the fact that three adults visiting us were dressed the same and nobody said anything.
Everyone’s chatting away. I’m being ignored, as usual; not just in conversation, I often have to ask several times to get things passed to me. The only one being cool to me is my one uncle, who’s USUALLY the most condescending man I’ve met up to that point; maybe he was just the only one that actually noticed my ever-worsening expression.
Finally, FINALLY, someone goes to include me in a conversation; my dad had been going off about something computer-related, and another family member asked me if I knew anything about it, because I was “into that computer stuff.” Again, this was the mid-90s when that was something special.
Me: “Actually, yeah, I ju—”
Family Member: “Oh, hey, you know they’re putting more computers in at my job? We’re totally—”
I just SLAM my hands on the table, stand up, and shout something along the lines of:
Me: “IF I’M NOT ALLOWED TO TALK, JUST SAY SO!”
I then grab my plate and my drink and storm off to my room. Apparently, some called my “outburst” overdramatic or uncalled for. Honestly, I didn’t care. In a rare show of compassion, my dad (who grew up with the “men take care of their own problems” mindset and legitimately thought for years that it was best to ‘just figure it out ourselves’ if there were problems) eventually came to my room and asked what was up.
I pointed out how I had been talked over and ignored all night long, how a couple of times could just be a mistake, but when it happened literally every single time for over an hour, it was infuriating.
This was when my dad imparted a secret unto me which I never forgot: my mother was the odd-one-out in her family in that she didn’t act that way, and he could barely stand the rest of the in-laws, because that was ALL THEY DID. They were just used to it with each other and would effectively carry on two to three conversations at once, with everyone just yammering over each other. It just “seemed” worse to me because my parents had raised me to actually be respectful, but had forgotten the whole “how to deal with disrespectful family members” side of things.
He asked if I wanted anything else from the table; he’d make me up a plate and bring it over, but I was good until dessert came around, and I’d probably be cooled down by then and just ignore everyone right back.
Dad’s suggestion: next time someone in the family tries that with me, just talk as loudly as I can over them instead. I also inherited his “big booming voice,” by the way; the rest of the night went okay, but come Christmas time and the next big gathering, it worked! The number of people who looked shocked that I even had a voice and actually could use it was quite gratifying.
