Today was one of those special days.
The ones without any snot or tears, where your kid runs bang on into a wall and instead of melting down like she usually does, she shrugs and sits until she stops feeling queasy and then joins in again.
The ones where moms come up to me at the park and say things like:
"That's the first time I've heard a parent say 'Watch out for the person behind you,' all day. Thank you."
"Why you got like four kids on you? Either the redheads or the Mexicans aren't yours."
"Do you have Mary Poppins pockets in your dress? Where are all those water bottles coming from?"
It's the kind of day where I notice how far Mexican culture has come, because there were four little boys in colored skinny pants and converse and that never would have flown fifteen years ago. When I smile because Abuelo still uses a bandana instead of a bandaid, and little Crystal realizes I can understand her 3 year old Spanish as she begs me to push her on the swing.
It's the kind of day when "Mom," slips out more than my name and I remember that the kids fall into this charade as much as I do. When we laugh and make brownies and lick the bowl and learn to crack eggs on our foreheads. It's when a king size bed seems too big for four people because we're all piled on top of each other.
It's when she's in the bath and I come in to check on her. "Are Mom and Dad home?" she asks.
"Yes," I smile.
"Oh," her brows are furrowed and she's thinking. She doesn't seem excited or ask if she can rush to greet them. "Will you wash my hair?" she asks instead.
"Sure," I murmur and she leans forward for me and we don't discuss it further. She knows I'll stay until she's tucked in bed.
Perhaps we've all grown too dependent. Perhaps my life is too entwined with theirs. Perhaps when they hold me and refuse to let go, or read the bedtime books with my voice bound in each page when I can't be there, it is a sign we should all pull back.
But I've taught them how to ride a bike, how to make a sandwich, how to properly eat whipped cream from the can, how to do a handstand and make it across the monkeybars. The time for pulling back passed eons ago.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 6, 2013
Disneyland
Alright, now that we got all those gross feels out of the way, we can talk about the rest of my Disneyland trip, which was thoroughly enjoyable. This was the first year I've seen the new Buena Vista St and Carsland all trussed up in holiday spirit and it was thoroughly enjoyable.It was packed. The wait times were out of control, so I'm glad we'd all been there before and were okay with taking it easy. I nabbed a sour cream, bacon, and chive potato and shared with my niece which was delicious. We snagged our way onto Haunted Mansion, her favorite, Pirates, where my necklace was commented on, and Thunder Mountain, a fast ride, before we hit the parade and ice cream for the kids. Then it was Astro Blasters, where I got demolished by everyone, including the five year old, so obviously my gun wasn't working. We nipped over to the other park for a few rides and watched World of Color which, as always, was gorgeous.
My first day I totally overdid it by only having a milkshake and cotton candy for dinner, mixed with 98% of my brother's mojito, which he took one sip of and didn't like (in fact, the majority of the trip continued in this fashion before he realized he should just drink beer.) The resulting sugar crash mixed with carrying around my two year old nephew in heels and dancing with him on my hip at the Mad T Party was hilarious/ridiculous as I stood on the bus and had to keep my balance on the way back to the hotel over speed bumps and with abrupt stops.
 |
| Alice :D |
 |
| The Tweedles |
At this point my brother's family was tired, so they left and I stayed behind to enjoy life's little pleasures. A jalepeno-cheese pretzel, single rider lines, the Casey Jr Circus train at night, talking to cast members and getting free things :)
 |
| View from the top floor |
Oh crap.
Jan 4, 2013
Gross Feelings
 |
| Premium fireworks view: armchair, footstool and music! |
My niece is very theatrical and loves to sing, hum, whistle, dance- you name it, she does it. It's very entertaining in line. We stood in line for a ride and an older boy (somewhere between 17-24) started to talk with her, flirt with her. She's almost as tall as me, and as it was nearing the end of the night, she had put her Minnie Mouse ears in my hair, making her look older than she seemed before, more like a teenager. He was downright creepy in his advances and it didn't stop once he learned she was 12, and finally we all stopped in line to do one thing or another and pushed her to the head of our group, effectively cutting off their communication. The Minnie Mouse ears went back in immediately.
My older nephew is a crack up! He's in love with Princess Leia and likes to make everyone laugh because that means fun is being had. My younger nephew? He took to me like Sam took to green eggs and ham. I'm not sure if he remembered me from this past summer of if I remind him of his mom and dad, but he would not let go. My arms are sore from dancing with him and carrying him around the park. He shares my fascination for the stars and started break dancing (spinning on his head and all) at the Mad T Party at California Adventure.
 |
| I think my nephew would have more fun in a club than teenagers and 20-somethings |
 |
| The 5yo. He likes to wear his hat backward :) |
It was there as I held him in the crowded square, with the fake snow falling around us, the last sparks of fireworks fading into the dark sky. It was there as he caught a fake flake and tapped it on my nose, in the awe of his smile, the gleam in his eye, the shared laughter between us and his sister.
 |
| Post snow - Merry Christmas from Disneyland! |
Jan 1, 2013
Traveling
Tonight I'm packing. One of my brothers lives in Nevada, and as I wasn't able to see him for Christmas, his, his wife's, or his 3 kids' birthdays, all which fall in November and December, we are meeting up at the Happiest Place on Earth. That's right kids, I'm ditching you for Disneyland! It's been a while since I've been there during the holidays - the last time I was there was before my best friend had surgery. She, ever more chic than I, likes to pretend that I'm her life size barbie and dresses us in matching outfits whenever we go. We took a tour of the park last time and no one was quite sure if we were twins or dating - It was neither! (Though this time I'm bringing along my So Gay necklace thanks Sasha! so that will be an interesting experience!)
The brother I'm visiting proposed to his wife in Disneyland on Christmas day x years ago, during the "snowfall" portion of the fireworks show, maybe the one romantic gesture he's ever made in his life. I'm sure we'll be spending lots of time trading off his one year old and fighting over who gets to go on Star Tours :) 
I received a pretty, pretty teal stylus for my iPhone as a Christmas gift, and have since then been partaking in drawing random pictures which take anywhere from 2-10 minutes and posting them on Twitter. I have no real artistic talent, but it's pretty fun to doodle. In sticking with this post's theme I drew Winnie The Pooh :) I'm not a huge fan of Winnie the Pooh, but my drawing of Dumbo looks awful, so, "nice work if you can get it!" Also, these are what I've posted on Twitter over the past week. I'm having a good time with them :) Happy New Year! See you soon!Dec 30, 2012
Family/Heavy Update
I got the phone call. The one I was half-expecting to come at three am from a sobbing girl. Instead it was an afternoon text message: Can you please call me when you have free time? So innocent, so politely distant. This is how my family works. We all do this. We all downplay our feelings and refuse to take up anyone's time or emotions or ask for what we need.
I called my niece right away and she was in tears on the other end of the line. "I told my mom and she just - she thinks that if I go out with my friends for a night it's going to go away and I'm going to get better!" I let her cry while I analyzed, processed, and also because she needed to get it out. She's so worried that by asking for help she's going to break up her family, cause her parents to divorce, be branded as a screw up for the rest of her life. "-and then she said 'What, do I need to worry about you committing suicide, too?' and she just spat it at me!" my niece sobbed.
This is where being an aunt puts me in a difficult position. I am, in age, between my brother and his daughter. I am at a point in my life where I can understand both points of view, and it doesn't seem very long ago that I was dealing with my own high school/college issues. His wife, K, and I are so close, probably the closest of all my siblings, (plus or minus Ladybug) and her relationship with my niece is so reminiscent of my own with my mother.
I know that K feels like a bad parent, that she is trying to help/love/comfort her daughter, but has no idea how to handle this situation. I also know that my niece is trying to protect her mother, trying to lock away all her emotions, because she feels like by being honest she is ripping her foundation apart.
So I'm flying out to see them and I honestly couldn't be happier about it. I want to take my niece in my arms and check that she's okay with my own eyes. I want a late night conversation with my sister so she can talk to me about everything she feels overwhelmed by and can't process.
I want to walk into the doctor's office with them and assure them that it doesn't make us lesser people. I want us to walk out of there as a unit and I want my niece to go to sleep at night knowing that her family is rock solid and 100% behind keeping her well and happy, above and beyond everything else.
This is the definition of being family. I am more than happy to live up to the parameters.
I called my niece right away and she was in tears on the other end of the line. "I told my mom and she just - she thinks that if I go out with my friends for a night it's going to go away and I'm going to get better!" I let her cry while I analyzed, processed, and also because she needed to get it out. She's so worried that by asking for help she's going to break up her family, cause her parents to divorce, be branded as a screw up for the rest of her life. "-and then she said 'What, do I need to worry about you committing suicide, too?' and she just spat it at me!" my niece sobbed.
This is where being an aunt puts me in a difficult position. I am, in age, between my brother and his daughter. I am at a point in my life where I can understand both points of view, and it doesn't seem very long ago that I was dealing with my own high school/college issues. His wife, K, and I are so close, probably the closest of all my siblings, (plus or minus Ladybug) and her relationship with my niece is so reminiscent of my own with my mother.
I know that K feels like a bad parent, that she is trying to help/love/comfort her daughter, but has no idea how to handle this situation. I also know that my niece is trying to protect her mother, trying to lock away all her emotions, because she feels like by being honest she is ripping her foundation apart.
So I'm flying out to see them and I honestly couldn't be happier about it. I want to take my niece in my arms and check that she's okay with my own eyes. I want a late night conversation with my sister so she can talk to me about everything she feels overwhelmed by and can't process.
I want to walk into the doctor's office with them and assure them that it doesn't make us lesser people. I want us to walk out of there as a unit and I want my niece to go to sleep at night knowing that her family is rock solid and 100% behind keeping her well and happy, above and beyond everything else.
This is the definition of being family. I am more than happy to live up to the parameters.
Dec 26, 2012
Heavy
When Christmas gets heavy:
I skyped with my brother's kids late Christmas night. They're cute kids, 15 and 8, but they're a little overemotional. My nephew is funny and biting but can be sensitive, and so can his sister. My niece is a junior in high school, after she skipped a grade in middle school, and she's been dealt some heavy cards lately: her best friend died from cancer last year, and her other best friend went to jail for molesting younger boys after he himself was abused. Her life has sucked the past few years.
She wanted to talk to me about it this summer, but couldn't find the words, and being raised in a family where we don't push to communicate, I held her as she cried and told her she could come to me when she was ready. Last night's call was tense, grumpy, and awkward, and finally she kicked her little brother out of the room and broke down.
She's been anorexic for the last year. She has emotions she can't understand - feeling happy and normal one day, grumpy and depressed and introverted for no reason the next. She feels anxious, paranoid, stressed, and she doesn't want to tell her parents because she doesn't want to be a fuck up.
I'm pretty good at being calm and reasonable and compassionate when people come to me, but after the fact, when I'm writing about this, I can't help but start to cry. Should I have told her about my anorexia years ago? My depression as an early teenager? The year when I'd been lost and confused and tricked into thinking I'd fatally hurt one of my best friends? Should I be talking about these things to my other nieces and nephews who might be feeling the same way?
Luckily, her mom, K, is the sibling I talk to most, and she knows, briefly, about my struggles with anorexia. After ascertaining and making sure that my niece is not suicidal, I convinced her to talk to her mom. She's struggling, she's drowning, and she needs help and understanding. Maybe it's a conversation I will be part of, maybe I will end up flying out there to help, or maybe she'll find the courage to say something and then call me later. And I understand her hesitation, because she can be emotional and now her parents tend to brush her emotions off. But now I'm worried about her. Because this is what leads to drugs and sex and suicide.
I know there's a stigma against getting help, especially in our family - I mean, hell, I never got help or talked to my mom about any of my issues for that very reason. But I'd rather get her help than see her all over the papers. I'd rather she learn that help is okay than to lose her forever. She's my baby girl who is sarcastic and funny, who lights up at Disneyland, and wants to be a singer and has so much talent, who plays the guitar with me and can sing Katy Perry better than Katy Perry can. I refuse to see her light go out because she won't tell her parents or a doctor that something is wrong.
I skyped with my brother's kids late Christmas night. They're cute kids, 15 and 8, but they're a little overemotional. My nephew is funny and biting but can be sensitive, and so can his sister. My niece is a junior in high school, after she skipped a grade in middle school, and she's been dealt some heavy cards lately: her best friend died from cancer last year, and her other best friend went to jail for molesting younger boys after he himself was abused. Her life has sucked the past few years.
She wanted to talk to me about it this summer, but couldn't find the words, and being raised in a family where we don't push to communicate, I held her as she cried and told her she could come to me when she was ready. Last night's call was tense, grumpy, and awkward, and finally she kicked her little brother out of the room and broke down.
She's been anorexic for the last year. She has emotions she can't understand - feeling happy and normal one day, grumpy and depressed and introverted for no reason the next. She feels anxious, paranoid, stressed, and she doesn't want to tell her parents because she doesn't want to be a fuck up.
I'm pretty good at being calm and reasonable and compassionate when people come to me, but after the fact, when I'm writing about this, I can't help but start to cry. Should I have told her about my anorexia years ago? My depression as an early teenager? The year when I'd been lost and confused and tricked into thinking I'd fatally hurt one of my best friends? Should I be talking about these things to my other nieces and nephews who might be feeling the same way?
Luckily, her mom, K, is the sibling I talk to most, and she knows, briefly, about my struggles with anorexia. After ascertaining and making sure that my niece is not suicidal, I convinced her to talk to her mom. She's struggling, she's drowning, and she needs help and understanding. Maybe it's a conversation I will be part of, maybe I will end up flying out there to help, or maybe she'll find the courage to say something and then call me later. And I understand her hesitation, because she can be emotional and now her parents tend to brush her emotions off. But now I'm worried about her. Because this is what leads to drugs and sex and suicide.
I know there's a stigma against getting help, especially in our family - I mean, hell, I never got help or talked to my mom about any of my issues for that very reason. But I'd rather get her help than see her all over the papers. I'd rather she learn that help is okay than to lose her forever. She's my baby girl who is sarcastic and funny, who lights up at Disneyland, and wants to be a singer and has so much talent, who plays the guitar with me and can sing Katy Perry better than Katy Perry can. I refuse to see her light go out because she won't tell her parents or a doctor that something is wrong.
Dec 24, 2012
Familial Bantering
Welcome to my family:
It's Christmas Eve, so the phone calls have started pouring in. When you're in a family as big as mine, somebody has got to start early otherwise we're all going to end up on call waiting. Ladybug called first. I sent him a package full of goodies and he called to thank me for them. He sounds like he's having a good time, but he also sounds lonely.
And then I remember - it's not his first year in the Marines, but it is the first year he's been away for Christmas. We spent an hour talking, laughing, the longest I've ever spoken with him on the phone, and hopefully he comes away from it feeling a little better. I've come away from it feeling a little more heartbroken. I didn't have the time to realize how much I miss him, but now that I've slowed down and we've spoken - I miss the boy who jokes with me in broken Russian and draws comics we plot out together and understands my jokes.
My other brother called tonight, "I heard you're going family-less this Christmas?" he jokes. His humor is dry and biting.
"That I am. I'm just too tired this year. I need a break. You get a break every year!" I accuse. He lives 20 hours away from our parents and his wife makes the trip more often than he does.
"Yeah, well, this year K's mom is coming over," I wince for him. "You at least getting laid? Spending it with a girlfriend?" I wince again.
"Fuck you, I'm working on it," I groan into the phone.
"K, she's in a woman mood! This is your problem!" I start to protest but he hands the phone to his giggling wife. I love K, and even though we're not blood-related, she was the first sibling I came out to.
"Hello? What's wrong with you?" she laughs.
"He's just being a jerk," I smile. "Wants to know if I'm getting laid for Christmas."
"Ah," she pauses. "So, do you have a girlfriend?"
"K! Seriously?!"
"Jeez, you're blushing, even through the phone! Tell me!"
"I don't have a girlfriend," I pout. "Leave me alone. Merry Grinch-mas, I hope your presents suck."
She laughs and calls to my brother, "Someone's got her in a twist!" I can hear him answer faintly in the background "Tell her to work it out! She needs to relax!"
"Goddamnit, I'm hanging up," I threaten.
"Wait! So, you don't have a girlfriend, but you obviously like someone, so what's the hold up?"
"I-" I'm frustrated and embarrassed and don't want to talk about this, but I also do because I feel like my heart is going to explode. "We're just talking," I say instead, and keep my deep, dark secret to myself.
"Oh, okay," she sounds disappointed. "You got kicked out of class every single day in high school, so I know you've got a back bone. Use it," she threatens good-naturedly.
"Noted. Merry Christmas, K. Love you. Tell the kids I'll Skype with them tomorrow." We hang up and my heart feels heavy. I want to confess. Want to write her an email, but I know how crazy it sounds. It sounds crazy to me!
I've been having dreams that I'm married. I imagine having the courage to tell her. I don't know who she is, or if it is psychological and just means that I'm finally ready for a real relationship again, but she's been plaguing me for months. My brain says "No, it's fake, find a real-life girl!" but my subconscious drags me back in, and amidst her laugh and her hands in my hair, I drown.
But I stare at my phone and the screen is black. All my courage is gone.
It's Christmas Eve, so the phone calls have started pouring in. When you're in a family as big as mine, somebody has got to start early otherwise we're all going to end up on call waiting. Ladybug called first. I sent him a package full of goodies and he called to thank me for them. He sounds like he's having a good time, but he also sounds lonely.
And then I remember - it's not his first year in the Marines, but it is the first year he's been away for Christmas. We spent an hour talking, laughing, the longest I've ever spoken with him on the phone, and hopefully he comes away from it feeling a little better. I've come away from it feeling a little more heartbroken. I didn't have the time to realize how much I miss him, but now that I've slowed down and we've spoken - I miss the boy who jokes with me in broken Russian and draws comics we plot out together and understands my jokes.
My other brother called tonight, "I heard you're going family-less this Christmas?" he jokes. His humor is dry and biting.
"That I am. I'm just too tired this year. I need a break. You get a break every year!" I accuse. He lives 20 hours away from our parents and his wife makes the trip more often than he does.
"Yeah, well, this year K's mom is coming over," I wince for him. "You at least getting laid? Spending it with a girlfriend?" I wince again.
"Fuck you, I'm working on it," I groan into the phone.
"K, she's in a woman mood! This is your problem!" I start to protest but he hands the phone to his giggling wife. I love K, and even though we're not blood-related, she was the first sibling I came out to.
"Hello? What's wrong with you?" she laughs.
"He's just being a jerk," I smile. "Wants to know if I'm getting laid for Christmas."
"Ah," she pauses. "So, do you have a girlfriend?"
"K! Seriously?!"
"Jeez, you're blushing, even through the phone! Tell me!"
"I don't have a girlfriend," I pout. "Leave me alone. Merry Grinch-mas, I hope your presents suck."
She laughs and calls to my brother, "Someone's got her in a twist!" I can hear him answer faintly in the background "Tell her to work it out! She needs to relax!"
"Goddamnit, I'm hanging up," I threaten.
"Wait! So, you don't have a girlfriend, but you obviously like someone, so what's the hold up?"
"I-" I'm frustrated and embarrassed and don't want to talk about this, but I also do because I feel like my heart is going to explode. "We're just talking," I say instead, and keep my deep, dark secret to myself.
"Oh, okay," she sounds disappointed. "You got kicked out of class every single day in high school, so I know you've got a back bone. Use it," she threatens good-naturedly.
"Noted. Merry Christmas, K. Love you. Tell the kids I'll Skype with them tomorrow." We hang up and my heart feels heavy. I want to confess. Want to write her an email, but I know how crazy it sounds. It sounds crazy to me!
I've been having dreams that I'm married. I imagine having the courage to tell her. I don't know who she is, or if it is psychological and just means that I'm finally ready for a real relationship again, but she's been plaguing me for months. My brain says "No, it's fake, find a real-life girl!" but my subconscious drags me back in, and amidst her laugh and her hands in my hair, I drown.
But I stare at my phone and the screen is black. All my courage is gone.
Dec 17, 2012
Tragedies
It's always hard to write about a tragedy. It's easier to keep quiet and not step on anyone's emotional toes. When last Friday hit the news, I was in shock like everyone else. I reached out to my siblings and their children, who felt hurt and confused and scared. I imagined my niece and nephew who only live a few hours away from there, in kindergarten and pre-k, so little, so funny, so ultimately helpless against violence of that force.
But my niece and nephew back east are no strangers to guns. In fact, their father collects guns and is an avid hunter. They never go grocery shopping for meat, and the littlest knows moose meat is her favorite. My whole family are no strangers to guns. We are police officers, sheriffs, military members, war vets. We know the power of a gun and the safety rules of owning one. We know that there are two safes, one for the guns and one for the clips, and the keys aren't kept together.
What we don't own are semi-automatics. What we don't need are guns that belong in war and action movies. No one needs to be able to shoot off thirty rounds at at time. These are people guns. These are massacre guns. GB has rules about what kinds of guns civilians can own. Hunting rifles are fine, but any pistol/handgun is prohibited. Anything that can shoot six bullets without reloading is prohibited. Can I stress that more? SIX bullets.
Wake up, America. We're not waiting on a zombie apocalypse. We don't need guns based off AK-47s in the hands of citizens. We don't need to buy bulk ammo at the nearest supercenter. Why can I only buy two boxes of cold medicine but can buy 400 rounds at a time? What on earth are we doing?
My mom brought up a sad point. Those parents probably already bought Christmas presents for their children. Maybe people will think me callous, but I hope those toys are donated to Toys for Tots or another organization. Those kids aren't coming home to open them, and they were never really "their toys" in the first place. I'm sure all their favorites and most played with will hold a special place, but for these unopened presents it will just be a haunting reminder. Something decent/noble can bud from this tragedy. I hope it will.
But my niece and nephew back east are no strangers to guns. In fact, their father collects guns and is an avid hunter. They never go grocery shopping for meat, and the littlest knows moose meat is her favorite. My whole family are no strangers to guns. We are police officers, sheriffs, military members, war vets. We know the power of a gun and the safety rules of owning one. We know that there are two safes, one for the guns and one for the clips, and the keys aren't kept together.
What we don't own are semi-automatics. What we don't need are guns that belong in war and action movies. No one needs to be able to shoot off thirty rounds at at time. These are people guns. These are massacre guns. GB has rules about what kinds of guns civilians can own. Hunting rifles are fine, but any pistol/handgun is prohibited. Anything that can shoot six bullets without reloading is prohibited. Can I stress that more? SIX bullets.
Wake up, America. We're not waiting on a zombie apocalypse. We don't need guns based off AK-47s in the hands of citizens. We don't need to buy bulk ammo at the nearest supercenter. Why can I only buy two boxes of cold medicine but can buy 400 rounds at a time? What on earth are we doing?
My mom brought up a sad point. Those parents probably already bought Christmas presents for their children. Maybe people will think me callous, but I hope those toys are donated to Toys for Tots or another organization. Those kids aren't coming home to open them, and they were never really "their toys" in the first place. I'm sure all their favorites and most played with will hold a special place, but for these unopened presents it will just be a haunting reminder. Something decent/noble can bud from this tragedy. I hope it will.
Dec 12, 2012
Screaming
I want to talk honestly. On four different websites this past week, the topic of anorexia has come up, and I've tried to throw my two cents in because hey, I've been there for a good part of my life. Instead of opening any sort of dialogue, I feel like I've been ignored, condescended to, and viewed as a fuck up all because of my anorexia. Now I just feel like I'm screaming at the top of my lungs and no one is listening. Good thing I have a blog :/
Let's start with the myths: 1. I'm fat-phobic. My anorexia didn't start because I wanted to be thin, and that's true of more than half of people with eating disorders. 2. I wasn't raised with loving parents. My family always told me I was pretty. In fact, they built up my self-confidence and independence so much that I consider myself to be a fairly vain person. I've mentioned this before. I love how I look. I love my eyes and my nose and my smile and my laugh and how smart and funny I am. Not an issue. 3. I need attention. No one in my personal life ever found out about my anorexia except for my drama teacher, so I think the attention thing is out. 4. It's a phase. I started food refusal in high school and I've been out for years. My life has stabilized, I'm more comfortable with myself and my paradigms and my world, but I still struggle with my anorexia.
One of the reasons I stopped eating was because my dad has a neurological disease. He regressed and started behaving like a raging alcoholic by the time I was seven (sweet one minute and would smack you the next) and morphed into a toddler by the time I was 19, and he actively pushed to instill in me this phobia that I was going to inherit his disease. My mother tried to keep me away from him as much as possible, and it's because of her and my other family members that I am so self-assured. But, this fear ate at me, and I felt helpless, powerless against my fate. I began failing out of school, falling into depression, writing poems about death and perfect suicides.
Then, I started restricting and refusing food and everything changed. Not eating gave me something else to think about, because hunger was always on my mind, and all my other worries went out the window. I finally had absolute control over something - over myself and my body and my fate. I finally felt free. I finally felt amazing. The depression stopped, my grades picked up, I was more social and exercising all the time.
It only takes a few days of me not eating to have a positive effect on my emotional climate, which is why it's so hard for me not to go back. It allows me to not worry about anything. It allows me to be in control. It's not that way for everyone with an eating disorder, but it's not just about looking thin. There's always something under the surface, so please don't brush it off like someone needs to be told they're pretty twice a day and their anorexia will clear up. It's hurtful and offensive, and eating disorders are about so much more than that.
Let's start with the myths: 1. I'm fat-phobic. My anorexia didn't start because I wanted to be thin, and that's true of more than half of people with eating disorders. 2. I wasn't raised with loving parents. My family always told me I was pretty. In fact, they built up my self-confidence and independence so much that I consider myself to be a fairly vain person. I've mentioned this before. I love how I look. I love my eyes and my nose and my smile and my laugh and how smart and funny I am. Not an issue. 3. I need attention. No one in my personal life ever found out about my anorexia except for my drama teacher, so I think the attention thing is out. 4. It's a phase. I started food refusal in high school and I've been out for years. My life has stabilized, I'm more comfortable with myself and my paradigms and my world, but I still struggle with my anorexia.
One of the reasons I stopped eating was because my dad has a neurological disease. He regressed and started behaving like a raging alcoholic by the time I was seven (sweet one minute and would smack you the next) and morphed into a toddler by the time I was 19, and he actively pushed to instill in me this phobia that I was going to inherit his disease. My mother tried to keep me away from him as much as possible, and it's because of her and my other family members that I am so self-assured. But, this fear ate at me, and I felt helpless, powerless against my fate. I began failing out of school, falling into depression, writing poems about death and perfect suicides.
Then, I started restricting and refusing food and everything changed. Not eating gave me something else to think about, because hunger was always on my mind, and all my other worries went out the window. I finally had absolute control over something - over myself and my body and my fate. I finally felt free. I finally felt amazing. The depression stopped, my grades picked up, I was more social and exercising all the time.
It only takes a few days of me not eating to have a positive effect on my emotional climate, which is why it's so hard for me not to go back. It allows me to not worry about anything. It allows me to be in control. It's not that way for everyone with an eating disorder, but it's not just about looking thin. There's always something under the surface, so please don't brush it off like someone needs to be told they're pretty twice a day and their anorexia will clear up. It's hurtful and offensive, and eating disorders are about so much more than that.
Dec 11, 2012
Cancelling Christmas
So I did. I cancelled Christmas. All of my brothers and sisters have kids and families of their own to keep them occupied, so they don't really need me around to start the party. All the food and whatever? I don't need it. I am more than content to take a day to stay in my pajamas, watch stop motion Christmas movies, listen to Christmas music, and eat chocolate like no one's business. Maybe I'll even spend some time drawing a Christmas tree on butcher paper and hang it on the door. I'm not promising anything on that one.
I want to curl under a blanket and not move all day. I want to make homemade cider, or if it's warm, I want to lay outside on the sidewalk and soak up the heat. I want to leave my contacts out all day and watch 3D movies with kettle corn. I want to read dirty books in just my penguin Christmas socks. I want to break out my holiday CDs and belt out Christina Aguilera's "My Kind of Christmas" while I make lunch.
This is my kind of Christmas. That's right, be jealous.
Dec 10, 2012
Traditions-тучкаs
The holiday season brings with it some very specific memories.Apple cider from scratch in my grandparents' flower shop. The smell of fresh pine and poinsettias (which are not poisonous unless eaten massive quantities, and it tastes awful, so your kids and pets are fine). A string of electronic carousel horses which pranced and played Christmas music. A two foot angel waving a lit candle in the bay window. My brother's gingerbread Star Wars creations. The shoebox of ornaments with my name on it, from baby's first Christmas through ten years old. The stocking my mother made for me, with my likeness cross-stitched on the front under my name.
In my family, we get tuchkas, a small, brown bag filled with nuts, candy, and an orange. It's a tradition that we brought over from Russia (although тучка - little cloud is not a word anyone else uses for it. It's a region in Russia and a native tribe, so I'm not sure what the connection is...) The orange is a special treat because fruit in Russia was very expensive and very hard to come by in the harsh winters. Now, with importing, exporting, and genetic engineering, it's not as hard, but for my family in the 19th and early 20th centuries, it was a big deal.
So, everyone in my family gets a тучка, and the orange is always my favorite part. I'm not really crazy about candy, though I do like chocolate, and after all the sweets present on Christmas day, an orange the next morning is a perfect antidote. It's one of my favorite holiday traditions, and the link to my past is an added bonus.
Happy Holiday Season, you guys. I hope you enjoy old traditions and create new ones :)
Dec 8, 2012
Hanukkah!
I was just talking to a mom about how her kids are never excited about Hanukkah. "It's hard to compete with Christmas," she explained. From a little kid's point of view, I don't understand. Eight Days of Presents! How is this not better than Christmas? Also, all the food! Donuts and puff pastry and oodles and oodles of good food.
I guess it's the reciting of the blessings that they're not all that excited about. They want the big tree with big presents, Christmas music, and classic cool/creepy stop motion movies with no religious attachment. (Not many people really talk about Christianity on Christmas, really.) But it's one day vs. eight. And all that planning and shopping and set up for one day! I'd rather celebrate Hanukkah. Also, I think the ritual of lighting the menorah would be very soothing and bring the family together.
I remember when there were huge storms and my brothers and sisters and I would sit under the candles and oil lamps and play cards, backgammon, and dominoes and our dad would yell "close the damn refrigerator!" when we took more than 15 seconds to get what we wanted. We slept in the living room in sleeping bags because it got too cold on our own. We had to go outside in our bathing suits with trash bag jackets, and use brooms and hockey sticks to clear the flooding water away from our house and into the street. Those times were always a lot of fun. So, I think the menorah tradition would be awesome, but, that's just my opinion.
Anyway, I just wanted to wish you all a Happy Hanukkah! Be safe and joyous and loving and compassionate this holiday season!
Also, bonappetit has a menu for each day of Hanukkah and the first one is up! Looks delicious! Especially the lamb entree and the doughnuts with grapefruit-vanilla jelly!
Nov 23, 2012
Morning After
 |
| Leftover yams: breakfast of champions |
After the extended family left the parental house last night, the thing attacked. The thing that my head does when it thinks I'm hitting the bottom of the pool again. I took my medication right away, plus a painkiller, but it didn't seem to have any effect. So, I added to that an Advil pm and knocked myself out for a while. Good news, my head stopped hurting while I was effectively passed out.
Bad news: I woke up at 11 this morning with someone shrilly screeching my name. I ran out of my room, groggy and confused. It was my grandmother, never known for her subtlety. My mom was running around the house like a crazy person, trying to get something to the post office before it closed at noon.
"Do you want to go to lunch with us?" she asked, referring to herself and my aunt standing beside her. I stood numbly, not understanding the situation. Hadn't they all just left?
"You just woke her up and she just went throught that thing last night where I end up having to take her to the hospital," my mom explained.
"Oh, well did you go to the hospital?" she asked.
"No, she took her seizure/migraine meds and painkillers." My aunt has serious epilepsy and as soon as seizure meds were mentioned she was all up on my side. My grandmother, however, was a little slower.
"Well, she can get dressed quickly," she said, eying my pajama clad state.
"Sometimes those meds make you feel sick, mom, she probably doesn't want to eat," my aunt jumped in.
"I don't, I really don't," my head still hurt a bit and I wasn't feeling well, but I had just been very rudely awoken so it was to be expected.
They hung around the house for an hour, bothering my mother and trying unsuccessfully to be helpful when really my mom just wanted them to go away so she could mail her package and I just wanted piece and quiet. Finally I took two advil and braced myself to go down and face them, when they left. So instead, I grabbed some leftover yams with marshmallows and am enjoying a nice, quiet, leftover lunch :)
Nov 22, 2012
Happy Thanksgiving
We're all lounging in the unique jelly-legged afterglow of the Thanksgiving feast. As I type this, I'm lounging on the couch with two nieces who are falling into a food coma and a brother-in-law with whom I'm discussing the game, another niece eagerly running into the wilderness, three boys cleaning up the table, one playing video games and another gnawing on leftover sweet potatoes.
Redskins vs Cowboys is on the television and the women are talking in the kitchen. The lights are low and the keyboard of my laptop glows. It's my favorite moment of Thanksgiving. The moment when the dinner conversation has faded and everyone is drifting into their own little niches. It's comfortable, warm, friendly. Well, when you ignore all the ObamaCare hatred going on in the kitchen.
I'm so grateful to spend this time with my family. So grateful for all the food that filled our table, for the smiles on everyone's faces and for the dog licking up everything the kids dropped under their feet. I'm grateful that we all disagree on everything but still manage to get along. We're all family and we enjoy each other. I'm grateful for the homemade cider that smells like our childhoods and old memories of my grandparent's flower shop. I'm grateful for the three tables we strung together in the garage so that no one would be separated from the main conversation.
I'm grateful for the phone call from Ladybug because I miss him terribly and am glad to know that he's safe and sound. And most importantly, I'm grateful for the pumpkin chiffon pie that my sister's children made because it was absolutely delicious. And soon I will be grateful for the nap I'm going to take :)
Happy Thanksgiving!
Redskins vs Cowboys is on the television and the women are talking in the kitchen. The lights are low and the keyboard of my laptop glows. It's my favorite moment of Thanksgiving. The moment when the dinner conversation has faded and everyone is drifting into their own little niches. It's comfortable, warm, friendly. Well, when you ignore all the ObamaCare hatred going on in the kitchen.
I'm so grateful to spend this time with my family. So grateful for all the food that filled our table, for the smiles on everyone's faces and for the dog licking up everything the kids dropped under their feet. I'm grateful that we all disagree on everything but still manage to get along. We're all family and we enjoy each other. I'm grateful for the homemade cider that smells like our childhoods and old memories of my grandparent's flower shop. I'm grateful for the three tables we strung together in the garage so that no one would be separated from the main conversation.
I'm grateful for the phone call from Ladybug because I miss him terribly and am glad to know that he's safe and sound. And most importantly, I'm grateful for the pumpkin chiffon pie that my sister's children made because it was absolutely delicious. And soon I will be grateful for the nap I'm going to take :)
Happy Thanksgiving!
Nov 21, 2012
Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving for me and you! As a special Thanksgiving thing-a-ma-bob I'm going to take off the passwords for my first:girl series- falling in love and coming out- over on wordpress.com starting at noon pst today until noon Thanksgiving Day. I think. If I don't chicken out. Probably best to read it sooner than later.
Update 11/22/2012 12:00pm: Posts 2-5 are now password protected. DM, leave a comment or email me at tabbyqt@hotmail.com to sign up for the password.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
I haven't had much time to think about Thanksgiving, but I've got lots of family coming together and it should be a good time all around. We all have our assigned parts: Grandma is cooking the turkey, my sister's brood of children love making the pumpkin chiffon pie, so there will be tons of those, as well as a veggie tray, which leaves me to cook....just about everything else. My mom is no help since she's busy and not really a great cook, and my aunt is driving quite a ways to be with us all, so no help there.
Thanksgiving checklist for tomorrow:
Buy autumn themed tablecloths for outside tables.
Pick up "1st Birthday" baby cake for my nephew and cupcakes for the other kids. Wrap birthday present.
Set up at the parental house. Seating in the garage and buffet table in the house. Also, clean out the sink trap upstairs that Mom has been complaining about for weeks. Hook up TV in garage for football game.
Cook yams and hot dip first, start homemade apple cider in crock pot. Then green beans and bacon, and finish with the other side dishes.
Finish table set up, breathe.
Change into something Thanksgiving appropriate.
Have fun with the family :)
Happy Thanksgiving, y'all!
Update 11/22/2012 12:00pm: Posts 2-5 are now password protected. DM, leave a comment or email me at tabbyqt@hotmail.com to sign up for the password.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
I haven't had much time to think about Thanksgiving, but I've got lots of family coming together and it should be a good time all around. We all have our assigned parts: Grandma is cooking the turkey, my sister's brood of children love making the pumpkin chiffon pie, so there will be tons of those, as well as a veggie tray, which leaves me to cook....just about everything else. My mom is no help since she's busy and not really a great cook, and my aunt is driving quite a ways to be with us all, so no help there.
Thanksgiving checklist for tomorrow:
Buy autumn themed tablecloths for outside tables.
Pick up "1st Birthday" baby cake for my nephew and cupcakes for the other kids. Wrap birthday present.
Set up at the parental house. Seating in the garage and buffet table in the house. Also, clean out the sink trap upstairs that Mom has been complaining about for weeks. Hook up TV in garage for football game.
Cook yams and hot dip first, start homemade apple cider in crock pot. Then green beans and bacon, and finish with the other side dishes.
Finish table set up, breathe.
Change into something Thanksgiving appropriate.
Have fun with the family :)
Happy Thanksgiving, y'all!
Nov 18, 2012
Family Love/Hate
I love my family. I write about them a lot. I have fond memories of them and enjoy spending time with them. But sometimes I just want to smack them. Some of my family is desert redneck, and that's okay. They're good people, funny, know how to have a good time with a piece of plywood, some rope, and an ATV, and can make one hell of a mudslide (the drink). But, they also say some things I just can't handle - it comes with the territory.
My mom's cousin is one of those people who says a lot of things I disagree with. She's had it rough, fighting cancer and then later her daughter was born with Cystic Fibrosis. C was pretty cool - I have a lot of her art. She was fascinated with death and dying, big on the punk scene and Tim Burton movies. But she didn't make it past 16, and that was hard on her mom - on the whole family. After C died, my mom's cousin took a trip to Israel with her other daughter.
So here's the post I saw on Facebook today: The most amazing, spiritual & emotional 10 days of my life were spent in Israel. Hanging out in Downtown old Jerusalem. Being baptized in the Jordan. Actually touching the pavement where they forced Jesus to walk with his cross. The saddest pictures are of Ron and I on the beach in tel aviv, which is now empty because of the bombing. And lastly the empty tomb. Please pray for Israel and the Jewish people, "CHRISTIANS STAND BEHIND ISRAEL"
Blah, blah, blah, (Jesus didn't walk on pavement) blah, blah - "Christians stand behind Israel." 38 likes. I'm sorry, what? I'm not Christian, but I was raised Catholic so I should have a pretty fair idea of what this means and why people are getting behind it. But aren't Christians all for brokering peace? Didn't Jesus say he who is without sin, cast the first stone? Israel is bombing the hell out of Gaza and Hamas is trying like crazy to send out rockets, but their attempts are feeble in comparison.
So what I'm hearing is that she's all for a religious and territorial war that she has no business being a part of or cheering for. If you want to pray for something, pray for peace, pray for resolution. Pray for both sides and the lives that have been lost in the names of gods which are all ultimately the same.
If you haven't read the Gazan Youth Manifesto for Change, read it now. It's halfway down the page, marked in bold with Manifesto.
Also, if you're interested, this is a NYT article focusing on the three generations of a family living in Gaza that were killed during an Israeli airstrike, as well as the emotional climate of the area right now.
My mom's cousin is one of those people who says a lot of things I disagree with. She's had it rough, fighting cancer and then later her daughter was born with Cystic Fibrosis. C was pretty cool - I have a lot of her art. She was fascinated with death and dying, big on the punk scene and Tim Burton movies. But she didn't make it past 16, and that was hard on her mom - on the whole family. After C died, my mom's cousin took a trip to Israel with her other daughter.
So here's the post I saw on Facebook today: The most amazing, spiritual & emotional 10 days of my life were spent in Israel. Hanging out in Downtown old Jerusalem. Being baptized in the Jordan. Actually touching the pavement where they forced Jesus to walk with his cross. The saddest pictures are of Ron and I on the beach in tel aviv, which is now empty because of the bombing. And lastly the empty tomb. Please pray for Israel and the Jewish people, "CHRISTIANS STAND BEHIND ISRAEL"
Blah, blah, blah, (Jesus didn't walk on pavement) blah, blah - "Christians stand behind Israel." 38 likes. I'm sorry, what? I'm not Christian, but I was raised Catholic so I should have a pretty fair idea of what this means and why people are getting behind it. But aren't Christians all for brokering peace? Didn't Jesus say he who is without sin, cast the first stone? Israel is bombing the hell out of Gaza and Hamas is trying like crazy to send out rockets, but their attempts are feeble in comparison.
So what I'm hearing is that she's all for a religious and territorial war that she has no business being a part of or cheering for. If you want to pray for something, pray for peace, pray for resolution. Pray for both sides and the lives that have been lost in the names of gods which are all ultimately the same.
If you haven't read the Gazan Youth Manifesto for Change, read it now. It's halfway down the page, marked in bold with Manifesto.
Also, if you're interested, this is a NYT article focusing on the three generations of a family living in Gaza that were killed during an Israeli airstrike, as well as the emotional climate of the area right now.
Nov 17, 2012
26 Pinky Promise
30 Day Letter Challenge
Day 26 — The last person you made a pinky promise to
I made a girl pinky promise to do her English homework the other night, but I wasn't promising anything.
I promised someone that we'd die together. I think I was eight or nine at the time, and I couldn't imagine living alone. A car accident, we decided, so that we couldn't grow old and die in a hospital room that smelled like bleach and hurt our ears with high pitched machines humming.
I pinky swore to my childhood best friend that we'd be best friends forever. I promised Ladybug we'd never lie to each other. I pinky promised my grandfather that if he stopped smoking I'd clean up the shop, every day. She moved away, I've never outright told Ladybug I'm gay (I'm terrified), and my grandfather quit smoking for the rest of his life but I only kept my promise for a few months.
I think I do better when I don't involve pinkies.
Day 26 — The last person you made a pinky promise to
I made a girl pinky promise to do her English homework the other night, but I wasn't promising anything.
I promised someone that we'd die together. I think I was eight or nine at the time, and I couldn't imagine living alone. A car accident, we decided, so that we couldn't grow old and die in a hospital room that smelled like bleach and hurt our ears with high pitched machines humming.
I pinky swore to my childhood best friend that we'd be best friends forever. I promised Ladybug we'd never lie to each other. I pinky promised my grandfather that if he stopped smoking I'd clean up the shop, every day. She moved away, I've never outright told Ladybug I'm gay (I'm terrified), and my grandfather quit smoking for the rest of his life but I only kept my promise for a few months.
I think I do better when I don't involve pinkies.
Nov 15, 2012
Intelligence
I've never associated higher education with intelligence. I think that with the internet, libraries, public and mass access to information, this is more true than ever.
My family never placed much importance on education. My siblings and I were told to do well, but if we didn't, there was no punishment. During junior high I had 32 missing homework assignments for one class but an A+ on every test. I skipped school and didn't do my work (it was boring and I had better things to do) but I still tested better and engaged in classroom discussion more than most of my classmates. Perspective - when I was 3 my favorite word was Alstroemeria, granted, it was my favorite flower.
My siblings and their spouses all went to some college/junior college/trade school/etc, and the same with my parents, but none have a bachelors. My grandmother left college to marry my grandfather, who dropped out of high school to join the military at 16. Some of my extended family have 4 year degrees or beyond - one of my relatives has an MA is a mumblemumble in MO. (political relatives - who willingly admits that?) But I don't think of them as any more intelligent than my little familial hub.
I've always thought that learning is more about what you soak in from the world around you. How much attention you pay to your environment, to the people around you, to the news. When I took psychology I felt like they were trying to teach me things I'd already learned just from observing life around me. I feel like after the fundamental lessons, classes don't make people smarter, open minds make people smarter.
If you don't know what type of rock that is, look it up. If you don't understand what the central nervous system does, you can search the internet. If you are confused about the Russian Revolution and the mystery surrounding Anastasia (which is now not all that mysterious), there are encyclopedias and history books which can help you out with that.
Or maybe I just think that to make myself feel better because I never went back to finish my four year. School and I have never mixed well and probably never will. The joy and love I experience writing for myself is equal to how much I hate writing papers/assignments.
My family never placed much importance on education. My siblings and I were told to do well, but if we didn't, there was no punishment. During junior high I had 32 missing homework assignments for one class but an A+ on every test. I skipped school and didn't do my work (it was boring and I had better things to do) but I still tested better and engaged in classroom discussion more than most of my classmates. Perspective - when I was 3 my favorite word was Alstroemeria, granted, it was my favorite flower.
 |
| Alstroemeria varies in color, but all have a spotted pattern |
I've always thought that learning is more about what you soak in from the world around you. How much attention you pay to your environment, to the people around you, to the news. When I took psychology I felt like they were trying to teach me things I'd already learned just from observing life around me. I feel like after the fundamental lessons, classes don't make people smarter, open minds make people smarter.
If you don't know what type of rock that is, look it up. If you don't understand what the central nervous system does, you can search the internet. If you are confused about the Russian Revolution and the mystery surrounding Anastasia (which is now not all that mysterious), there are encyclopedias and history books which can help you out with that.
 | ||||
| Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna |
I look at her and want to cry because it's not like the Don Bluth movie.
She was so young and beautiful and innocent. Coincidentally, she looks like my grandma.
A curious mind can learn infinitely, beyond the textbooks and classroom doors, the college years and professors. But an ignorant
mind can go to school for ages and not learn anything.
Day 24 Memories
Day 24 — The person that gave you your favorite memory
 |
| This Taco Bell cup is half the size of my little body |
The first time I remember going to Disneyland I was nine (the first time I was 4) and we went to dinner at Goofy's Kitchen. It's a character dining experience where they come around and say hi, sign autographs and take pictures. Nowadays it's kind of lame, but back then it was just starting out and they didn't push the characters so fast. My favorite Disney movie was Aladdin at that time, and Aladdin came out and sat next to me for 25 minutes! We talked about everything. If he and Jasmine ever fought over the blankets, what the stars are like in Agrabah, what Abu would say if he could talk, if Genie ever gets annoying, if Jafar is scary in real life, if being a Sultan is hard work, if he and Jasmine would stay in love forever. He was so patient with me, never getting exasperated, telling me I would make a wonderful princess because I was beautiful, kind, and thoughtful, taking pictures with me, singing me happy birthday. No other character experience has ever lived up to the magic of that moment.
There's all the hilarious memories of my sister thinking she won the lotto (she didn't), my niece "cussing" at two teenage boys jaywalking (stupid apples!), my other niece at 4 years old, naked and walking around with her hands under her ribcage saying "Ribs! Ribs for dinner!" my brother's "oops, I forgot to tell you I have a kid," text several hours after first son was born. There's the crying memories of Ladybug becoming a Marine, of the Disneyland proposal on Christmas under fake snow and fireworks, of Ellie's wedding and seeing that huge, redneck side of the family again. Then we're back to hilarious, because there were four kegs at that wedding and they ran out of beer. Granted, his side of the family is Italian, but I'm sure our family took care of a huge portion. (Yes, kegs, at a wedding. It was also in a barn.)
Anyway, I've got lots of memories. I'd like to hear one of your favorite memories :)
Nov 10, 2012
Day 19 Family
30 Day Letter Challenge
Day 19 — Someone that pesters your mind—good or bad
I'm going to ignore the word "pester" because it has a negative connotation and declares the "good or bad" irrelevant.
My family has been on my mind recently. My very vast, extensive family, and whenever I talk about them people always ask "Are you Mormon?" No, friends, my family is not Mormon - they're Catholics and Mennonites. If you're not real knowledgeable on the Christian scene, you'd say they are pretty much the same thing. They're not, but they do like to have lots of kids.
My family has had strange encounters with Christianity - my uncle was studying to be priest but left and refuses to go to church or talk about the faith, and my aunt used to be a nun, but is now married with lots of grandchildren and is still involved in her local church. When I came out, I had some people react well and some react poorly. A distant aunt or second cousin or something is also gay, but she was disowned, though I still get a Christmas letter from her and her partner.
Lately I've been having dreams of my extended family in the forms of videotapes. Like, I'm watching a home movie (that I've never seen in waking life) with scenes of me as a baby surrounded by this huge family, all laughing and talking and drinking and playing The Beatles and Johnny Cash on guitar. It's this din of tons of voices all mixing together, bottles clinking and children giggling, and the sleepy look everyone gets when a few guys take center stage, and their melodious voices and strings of angels lull the children into golden slumber on the notes of Gordon Lightfoot.
I think I miss them, I know I miss them, and the joy of being immersed in so many people. You don't have to talk much when 70 people all have something to say. You can just relax and enjoy it, feel the embrace of all these people who accept you, no matter what. We're not all blood, but we're all family, and the feeling of being connected to all of them, of standing in a room full of people and seeing a glowing thread from your heart to the hearts all around you, is so rare, something to be cherished.
Sometimes I talk too much, and I miss when I'm around them and can be silent.
Day 19 — Someone that pesters your mind—good or bad
I'm going to ignore the word "pester" because it has a negative connotation and declares the "good or bad" irrelevant.
My family has been on my mind recently. My very vast, extensive family, and whenever I talk about them people always ask "Are you Mormon?" No, friends, my family is not Mormon - they're Catholics and Mennonites. If you're not real knowledgeable on the Christian scene, you'd say they are pretty much the same thing. They're not, but they do like to have lots of kids.
My family has had strange encounters with Christianity - my uncle was studying to be priest but left and refuses to go to church or talk about the faith, and my aunt used to be a nun, but is now married with lots of grandchildren and is still involved in her local church. When I came out, I had some people react well and some react poorly. A distant aunt or second cousin or something is also gay, but she was disowned, though I still get a Christmas letter from her and her partner.
Lately I've been having dreams of my extended family in the forms of videotapes. Like, I'm watching a home movie (that I've never seen in waking life) with scenes of me as a baby surrounded by this huge family, all laughing and talking and drinking and playing The Beatles and Johnny Cash on guitar. It's this din of tons of voices all mixing together, bottles clinking and children giggling, and the sleepy look everyone gets when a few guys take center stage, and their melodious voices and strings of angels lull the children into golden slumber on the notes of Gordon Lightfoot.
I think I miss them, I know I miss them, and the joy of being immersed in so many people. You don't have to talk much when 70 people all have something to say. You can just relax and enjoy it, feel the embrace of all these people who accept you, no matter what. We're not all blood, but we're all family, and the feeling of being connected to all of them, of standing in a room full of people and seeing a glowing thread from your heart to the hearts all around you, is so rare, something to be cherished.
Sometimes I talk too much, and I miss when I'm around them and can be silent.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)