A good chunk of people come from dysfunctional families. Some of us break out of the cycle and some of us just follow the same path because it is familiar.
I hope that I am one of the ones who have broken out of the cycle of emotional constipation and the cruelty which is born from it.
I've mostly dealt with my childhood traumas and losses, and when I get sucked back into that darkness it doesn't take me long to pull the memory out in its fullness, thank it for the scars and put it back away. (I have found that moving on is a continual process not a one time accomplishment.) But going back to my hometown for my uncle's funeral hit way too many buttons and I am having a harder time thanking anything. Plus there are a few new memories to add to the box.
My plan was to come back, write about meeting the adults I used to babysit or at least change the diapers of, however, I haven't gotten to that part of my coming back home process.
If you don't know this by now, my mind is always trying to put the puzzle together, no matter what form that puzzle is in. Sometimes I amuse myself because I get distracted by a section which reminds me of something and that rabbit hole leads to a tea party. Sometimes, like this time, the rabbit hole lead to both the Jabberwocky and Bandersnatch.
My "jabberwocky" is thoughtless selfishness. My "bandersnatch" is pride.
When I say thoughtless selfishness I mean when someone doesn't think about a situation other than what they want. For example, I was told several times, (attempted guilt trips), that I don't visit enough or that I disappeared. My response of course was that I haven't had anyone visit me at all and they are always welcome. Here is how this is both thoughtless and selfish. I am expected to make the effort to reach out regardless of my situation. No one thought about or remembers the fact that my family was almost homeless, that we were destitute for quite some time, or that when we were in town they were busy. (BTW I am VERY grateful and humbled that my support system came in the form of good friends who became family. They were my life boat and I hope I can repay that.) I could jab at this Jabberwocky with hurt and resentment, throwing all the trials and tribulations at the snapping jaws of this beast. This would only lead to both of us continuing to battle in a bloody war. Or I can forge a vorpal sword of forgiveness as well as gentle darts of reminders that my door is always open and my phone is always available. The forging of this magical weapon is tough and laborious, yet the undertaking is worth the sweat and tears. I am working on it still.
Pride is tricky. Of course we all want to be proud of our accomplishments. We want to hold our heads high and acknowledge that we are worth... something. Most of the time with families it goes a bit too far. This leads us as individuals unable to ask for help or share our struggles. This bandersnatch led to a big ugly pile of resentment when it came to my uncle's death. His wife & children didn't want to use the D word when talking to the rest of the family about his illness, (thus the true nature & severity was lost on people who don't do subtle.) My father's pride kept the rest of our family from knowing that he is struggling financially and that my husband and I were struggling in the past. My pride keeps me from correcting assumptions and accusations. My mom's pride keeps her from admitting that her memory has holes. And the list goes on. I don't know how to deal with my part in this as I also don't want to alienate people further. But I am much MUCH better at keeping it from happening in the future by asking for help now and letting people know when things are less than ideal. Of course we can only be responsible for ourselves, so the beast continues to claw, scratch and bite. This makes it a much more difficult beast to overcome. You cannot defeat it, you can only subdue it. So I must find a way to charm it. Hopefully then it will wander off to sleep for a bit.
The point where a night of drinking and dancing with friends to get my equilibrium back is drawing closer. First maybe a rowdy and silly D&D game will get me laughing enough to put these monsters into perspective. Then I can talk about the adults I still picture in diapers.
Hmm... Maybe I just need a new novel to edit.
