Pushing Past the Curtain
Since "To: Madame Butterfly" is about persistence and pushing past adversity, it's time I step up.
Here I go, taking the leap. . . I often think of my biological family. We aren't close. For the most part, my family doesn't do "family" and I really don't know why.
If you'd ask them, they would probably blame me. I did this or that or said this or that. Sometimes, it actually happened but a lot of it happened in a place removed from reality. I suspect that my biggest "sin" was leaving to live my own life. Not that I was a popular member before leaving. From my perspective, I was often a dumping ground because I took on too much responsibility. When other teens were being teens, I was changing diapers, making dinner and trying to keep track of my roving siblings who did not like to account for their movements. I took it all too seriously. I finally jumped ship and tried to take care of myself, often not very well.
My parents weren't bad people. They were overwhelmed easily by life, lack of money, and more children than they knew how to handle. Their German authoritative, non-demonstrative heritage was evident in a profound avoidance of any show of praise, encouragement or support.
Maybe this is why my family doesn't do family.
Over the years, I've had to put a lot of my "pieces back together." I'm still a satchel of broken parts but I function. I love my children more than I have words. I'm proud of both of them and I can tell them so. I avoided raising them in any strict religion and ended up raising agnostics but better that then the perpetually fearful.
My family doesn't do family. Our past doesn't have to define us. Influence us, haunt us, hang on to us like death. . . but some times it does. Forgiveness, learning how to connect, trying to connect, those are choices.
I've forgiven because it's the best option for me. It helps me sleep at night and I know that I did try to mend the fences, with my blunt, forthright style, which has never been very popular. Sadly, forgetting, is still beyond my scope.
When we lost our home during the last recession, my family was silent. Thanks to a friend who took us in during several months of homelessness, we'd have been living in our van. An attempt to stay with family earlier as a desperate plan to keep a roof over the kids' heads had failed. My children begged me to go home after a short weekend, staying with my mom. She and one of my sisters ranted about how their shoes were in the way. That made them both feel so unwelcome, they begged me to take them home. I cried all the way back to Vancouver. I knew how I felt around my family but when my children felt that way too. It made it real.
Over the years, I've see some wonderful, loving families and I've seen less than wonderful, but never anything quite like mine. I still feel confused and sad when I think about them. We live in challenging times and the road ahead is uncertain. Don't make things or past hurts more important than your relationships. You can lose everything. Losing people is the hardest thing of all.
Here I go, taking the leap. . . I often think of my biological family. We aren't close. For the most part, my family doesn't do "family" and I really don't know why.
If you'd ask them, they would probably blame me. I did this or that or said this or that. Sometimes, it actually happened but a lot of it happened in a place removed from reality. I suspect that my biggest "sin" was leaving to live my own life. Not that I was a popular member before leaving. From my perspective, I was often a dumping ground because I took on too much responsibility. When other teens were being teens, I was changing diapers, making dinner and trying to keep track of my roving siblings who did not like to account for their movements. I took it all too seriously. I finally jumped ship and tried to take care of myself, often not very well.
My parents weren't bad people. They were overwhelmed easily by life, lack of money, and more children than they knew how to handle. Their German authoritative, non-demonstrative heritage was evident in a profound avoidance of any show of praise, encouragement or support.
Maybe this is why my family doesn't do family.
Over the years, I've had to put a lot of my "pieces back together." I'm still a satchel of broken parts but I function. I love my children more than I have words. I'm proud of both of them and I can tell them so. I avoided raising them in any strict religion and ended up raising agnostics but better that then the perpetually fearful.
My family doesn't do family. Our past doesn't have to define us. Influence us, haunt us, hang on to us like death. . . but some times it does. Forgiveness, learning how to connect, trying to connect, those are choices.
I've forgiven because it's the best option for me. It helps me sleep at night and I know that I did try to mend the fences, with my blunt, forthright style, which has never been very popular. Sadly, forgetting, is still beyond my scope.
When we lost our home during the last recession, my family was silent. Thanks to a friend who took us in during several months of homelessness, we'd have been living in our van. An attempt to stay with family earlier as a desperate plan to keep a roof over the kids' heads had failed. My children begged me to go home after a short weekend, staying with my mom. She and one of my sisters ranted about how their shoes were in the way. That made them both feel so unwelcome, they begged me to take them home. I cried all the way back to Vancouver. I knew how I felt around my family but when my children felt that way too. It made it real.
Over the years, I've see some wonderful, loving families and I've seen less than wonderful, but never anything quite like mine. I still feel confused and sad when I think about them. We live in challenging times and the road ahead is uncertain. Don't make things or past hurts more important than your relationships. You can lose everything. Losing people is the hardest thing of all.
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