The last week or so has been consumed by family. I have had more quality family time in the last 10 days than I have in the last 10 months, as one of my male cousins got married on Saturday. It was a lovely affair, but I'm really glad it's all over. Between meet-and-greet dinners between our family and the bride's family, rehearsal dinner, Easter, etc., I am family-ied out for a while. It's always weird for me to be around my family. I have such mixed emotions that no matter how pleasant a time I have, there is always some tension underneath that leaves me wrung out.
I have scars from my family, emotional wounds that go back to childhood. Yeah, I know, who doesn't, right? From the fairly mild childhood teasing about my lighter skin and "proper" speaking, to the harsher adolescent jeers about my weight. Constant verbal pokes about my taste in music and my rainbow coalition of friends. Being molested repeatedly by an older male cousin, which not only left me sexually confused for a long time, but also left me with a lasting subconscious impression that my family, the ones who are supposed to protect and cherish me, cannot be trusted. I'm known as the outspoken one in the family, the one who'll say anything to anyone; the one who will cry "bullshit" (altho not actually using profanity, mind) at the drop of a hat. I guess I was quiet for so long, that the moment I turned 18-- and thus invulnerable to childhood punishments-- I decided that I wasn't going to be quiet anymore. I refused to remain a victim.
My tongue is sometimes sharper than it has to be with my family, but at least I can say that its edge isn't being used to hurt someone. No, my whole deal is that I point out uncomfortable truths, those things that people don't really want to hear, but that need to be said. The snarky things that people try to slip in, I will openly call them on it. By now, my family knows that I will say anything to anyone, that I will discipline your kids if you don't (and don't even think of giving me any attitude for it), and that I will not tolerate any disrespect towards my mother.
Jeez, I have no idea where this gush of emotional vomit came from. I really just meant to say that there was a wedding and I had fun. I cuddled my 1 year old cousin Jalen, who fell asleep on my lap at the reception. I nuzzled his little head, felt those crisp little curls against my cheek, and thought about how wonderful it was to be holding the future of my family in my lap. And of course, there were the obligatory tears at the wedding; happy tears for the couple, melancholy tears for myself and my single state, sorrowful & selfish tears at their new beginning when my own new beginning was derailed.
I cried a lot this past weekend. A whole freakin' lot. Between issues with those certain family members who always piss me off, and happy/sad wedding tears, and loving on my baby cousin, and missing my own baby, and wondering if I'll ever have a "take home" baby, and dealing with the expressions of sympathy from family members I hadn't seen in a while (but who apparently had been told about my m/c) my tear ducts were kept busy.
It comes and goes, the sadness. I can go for days at a time, feeling fine and everything is okay. And then seemingly out of nowhere, my heart is this heavy lump in my chest and my eyes are watering. It's like some kind of unpredictable cycle: will I have 5 good days before I break down, or will I get 7 this time? Then I really mess with my own head, wondering: if a twelfth week m/c can eff me up this bad, how in the world will I stay sane when my mother passes away? Very macabre thoughts sometimes.
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2 comments:
{{{Kimmie}}} You hit so many memories for me in your post today, I *had* to respond. ::imagine me as the zombie typist::
The pleasant and the unpleasant of family get-togethers. grr. For myself, it has been safer/healthier/funner ;-) to consider them as relatives and chosen family. 'I'm related to those people but they're not family.'
I can also related to the ups and downs of post-miscarriage. After multiple miscarriages/fetal demise/stillbirths, I would still get teary or have 'sob hour' for 5 or so years after the last one. It *did* get less frequent over time. These days it's just a feeling of melancholy once in a great while.
And as for when your mother dies, honey, you are allowed, nay! expected to fall apart during that time! I wasn't rational when my dad died and you were there. You'll have all your chosen family near you to protect, love and cherish you...just like we do every day. :-)
Sha right, are you kidding? Ole Ho will never die - she'll outlive us all!!
Heh, tell your mom I still lurv her and I'm pretty sure it goes without saying that I (and my entire little family) will be there for you if something ever were to happen to her.
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