Life has been quiet the past few days and I wonder what’s coming down the pike, you know? The weather is beautiful, I don’t have to sit through rush hour traffic to sit at a desk doing a job I hate, yet I’m expecting something to fall apart. I hate that feeling. I usually ignore it any more. But today I can’t seem to shake the feeling that something evil this way comes. I think first that maybe a family member is trying to contact me. That could be a disaster in waiting.
I know I’m not unique in that I no longer speak with my family. Many families have fallen apart for all sorts of stupid reasons. As with most people who’ve walked away from their family of origin I secretly wish contact with my family, except the reality is any contact with the family tends to have severely negative consequences.
Some people have suggested I mend the fences and let those people back into my life. As much as I would love to have my extended family part of my life, I know it would be an uneasy truce, with me holding my tongue and being made to feel substandard.
Why do families treat each other so poorly? What makes some families fall apart, while others are able to stay together. Am I just unforgiving? Am I being stubborn and ignorant? I wish I knew, then I could put the dilemma to rest once and for all.
I’ve been estranged from most family members since 1990. There was a period of time I did reconnect with sisters, but each time it just ended. They indicated they did not want to bother any more, I guess. It took me more than a couple of years to deal with that level of rejection, but I think I’m nearly there.
My last foray into the family fold was my older sister. We hadn’t spoken since about 1995. I was lonely, did a search, and there she was. I took it as a sign and contacted her. It was so fabulous. We would talk for hours every weekend, and send each other emails in between. We got together one weekend and had a marvelous time. As all relationships do, things trickled and slowed, phone calls were less frequent, emails became nonexistent and then the phone conversations were strained. And as I have been well indoctrinated, I accepted the lame excuses for the lapse in communications and left it at that.
She and I saw the family in completely different ways, and yet she never trusted the way I accepted their lack of concern. She never understood the way I felt nothing for the family any more. It was as if she wanted me to hate them as she did. All in all, it was another experiment in family dynamics that went awry.
So I finally accept that I am an orphan. Bit by bit eliminated from their lives, little by little my memory eroded by the years. Never informed of my dad’s death. Omitted from the obituary. I wonder what the problem was. I wonder about love and how easily it can be withheld. I wonder about Changlings still.