My mother wants me to come to Thanksgiving dinner. I really don’t want to. If it were up to me I’d cut all ties with her and my father right now no problem whatsoever. But people have to make things so difficult. Why can’t people stop trying to “fix” my situation and just let me do what I need to? No one knows what’s best for me except for me. People just need to realize this. They can’t fix every little thing about my life. This is why I considered not going home for Thanksgiving. The problem is, my niece will be there. My niece is like that little light that fixes everything; she’s my favorite person in the entire world, and I tell her that every time I see her. She’s 6. I don’t get to see her basically ever. I want to see her so bad, but I know I won’t be able to unless I go to Thanksgiving dinner. Because that’s the kind of people my family are. They like to act like they’re happy and that they’re sweet and nice and would never do anything to their “disrespectful, black sheep” daughter, but I know exactly how they really are. I’ve seen first hand, and I know exactly how they’d act. In addition to them being straight up horrible people, my brother will also be there. Last I heard, he didn’t want me in the house when he was there. Which is funny, considering he actually treated our mother like crap wayyy before anything happened with me. So I don’t know where he gets off being mad at me. It’s whatever I don’t care anyway. I only care about my niece. As long as I get to see her, I don’t care about anything else. That’s how much she means to me. She’s my girl. She always asks about me, and the first thing she asks when they visit there is “where’s Aunt Angel??” I’m scared that it won’t always be that way as she grows up. I don’t ever want to lose my place in her life, because I know she’ll never lose her place in mine.
I wish I could bring one of my friends who understands with me. Like maybe Kalee or someone. She understands the mini anxiety attacks that comes with the family; the sudden panic, shaking hands, trying not to cry, feeling like you’re going to throw up, breathing like you just ran an 800 yard sprint. That feeling where all you want to do is run the other direction as fast as you can and not stop running until you’re far enough away that you never have to think about them again. When you want someone bigger than you to wrap their arms around you and protect you from everything. When “I’m here, I promise. You’re safe” are the words that you want to hear more than anything in the world.
Go ahead, say I’m overreacting. I dare you. You have no freaking clue what it’s like to have to pick all of your clothes up off of the lawn in the rain, gathering everything you own into trashbags so that you can get out of the house as quickly as possible. You have no idea what it’s like to be called worthless to your face. You have no idea what it’s like to put that behind you and try to move back in because you’re so desperate to get out of the house that was supposed to be your haven, only to be told “it must be your fault, suck it up.” You have no idea what it’s like to watch your father literally turn his back on you and drive away. So forgive me if I don’t call them Mom and Dad. To me, those titles are supposed to go to the people who earn them, and my parents certainly didn’t. Even saying or writing those two words now makes me want to throw up.
Like how is it supposed to be okay? She thinks that everything is supposed to be just fine. I don’t get it. She’s obviously batshit crazy. The only time they acted like “good parents” was when I moved out. Never once had they been to my soccer games before that. I was always the kid that the other parents hugged and drove around because my parents didn’t do it. Oh, correction. She may have been to one or two before that. But only when she was working the concession stand. Because then she didn’t have to pay to get in. It’s nice to know that I’m not worth $4. Thanks for that. Even her profile picture pisses me off. It’s from my graduation. One big happy family. Yeah, okay.
Then I get a text from my cousin the other day telling me that my uncle was in the hospital. She went on and on about how she knows that he’s not my favorite person in the world but he really cares about me and only did what he did because he cared and was fighting for me and how he always asks about me all the time blah blah blah. Because he cared? Really? So he called me a “worthless little 17 year old brat who thinks she’s a tough ass” because he cared? Threatened to call the cops because I wouldn’t go to church camp, because he cared? Really? My first thought when she told me was “Crap, if he dies, they’ll want me to come to the funeral and I’ll have to deal with the whole family.” Enter anxiety attack.
The people I truly consider my family? Most of them aren’t related to me.
Just because someone shares the same blood as you does not mean they are family. Family means people that stand by you and love you… not people who abandon you or treat you like shit. Don’t let whoever this is play the guilt card on you and say “Oh, but we’re family!” Don’t let anyone bring you down.
I absolutely LOATHE sleeping by myself. I love having someone in the bed next to me. I don’t know why, but waking up and being able to reach over and know that someone else is there is one of the best feelings in the world.
“Watching a movie” in college does NOT mean “watching a movie.” Trust me on this one; I learned this from experience.
“You’ll learn,” “someday you’ll admit that I’m right,” “you’ll thank me in the future.” All phrases I heard repeatedly growing up. Never really thought those phrases had anything to them. I’ll admit that I learned; I don’t think it was what they wanted me to learn, and I’ll never admit that they were right. And I’ll never thank them. But I learned, and I’m still learning. Don’t worry; it’s not as dark and depressing as it sounds. I actually think a lot of it is funny.
Laugh at yourself. It’s better than getting upset. And it’s more fun. Who wants to sit and cry when they can laugh hysterically and move on? Exactly. Don’t take yourself so seriously. Hang on to that one bit of humor in any situation, even if it’s something you have to make up. It makes things a hell of a whole lot easier!
I go about life the hard way; some people are fine just taking advice and listening. I was never one of those people, and I completely accept that about myself. It’s part of who I am; it makes me more interesting. I think of situations as adventures, and everything that happens, good or bad, just makes the adventure more exciting.
In the long run, it’ll be okay. Don’t freak out.
I’ve gotten this far in life and I’m just fine; I can handle anything!