R.E.S.P.E.C.T, Find Out What It Means To Me

I've always said that you can most certainly trace your habits and traits back to your family, especially when you're looking to blame someone for your ill behavior... at least I like to do that... there's nothing like a healthy portion of Italian guilt flung back on the parents.  It kind of makes up for piano lessons, taking the garbage out and having to kiss your aunt with the moustache generously fuller than your own. 

Recently (with the help of my friend, Robin)... I've been uncovering more information about my birth parents (of which I will discuss during some other post).  For the sake of this discussion, I just wanted to point out that I received behaviors from both sets of my parents, both adoptive and birth.  From my adoptive parents, I picked up my Mom's sarcasm and OCD... from my Dad, his willingness to give the shirt off his back and help anyone tirelessly.  Unfairly for them, I cannot speak of the good traits of my birth parents, so I can't compare any resemblance in that manner, but it seems that I did pick up several of their bad qualities.  From my birth mother, I picked up her sense of wanderlust... she was constantly on the go, scoping out her next move.  This, I believe, leads to my sense insecurity in not having a foundation for my life and I'm constantly searching to get grounded.  From my birth father, considering that he committed suicide before I was born and hated children, I get my depression, frustration and my somewhat short fuse.  Without going into it further in this post, they weren't great people to look up to.

Whether it was the feeling of abandonment (further solidified with the passing of my adoptive mother early on) or being gay and feeling like the underdog or not having gone to college and fighting for approval and validation... my anger manifests itself primarily out of issues of disrespect.  Most of my recent dating situations revolved around feeling that I wasn't getting the respect that I was giving, as well as situations with some friendships that I dissolved.  Respect is very important to me and something that I can rarely overlook when issues arise.  I work hard at respecting others, demand it in return and won't settle for anything less.  Cutting people out of my life doesn't mean I don't respect them, it means I respect myself.

I recently attended several gay pride parades and nothing gets me choked up like any certain group getting their five minutes in the spotlight, complete with roads closed and a marching band celebrating that group's rights to say their piece.  It never fails that I usually well up with tears as I'm standing there watching, after all, who better to give your respect to than someone marching in a parade that, despite those who oppose them or the backlash that may follow, proudly stands up for the whole, putting themselves at risk.

A few days ago, a somewhat distant Aunt of mine passed away.  Considering my disdain for religious ceremony and death rituals, the part of a funeral that always gets me to cry is the funeral procession.  In most of the States, it is unlawful to interfere with or obstruct a funeral procession motorcade.  With plaquards displayed and headlights and hazards on, a procession has the right-of-way and those who come upon it must stop until it passes.  It wasn't until the other day sitting in my car watching those around us react that it hit me that it's all about the respect aspect, as is with the parade, and that's why it hits so close to home with me emotionally.

There are many ways that we are disrespected in our daily lives by our family, friends and strangers. It's exhausting to fight for approval or validation or for your rights and some people die during the battle.  It's comforting to know that there are times in your life (or death, as the case may be), you will get the respect that you deserve... and your moment in the spotlight... and people will stop and take notice.