I’ve never had a functional family life. With an alcoholic, mentally ill mother and somewhat absent father I always felt left out and forced to fend for myself. Everything I got in life are things I’ve worked hard for myself. Nothing has ever been given to me. For so long I’ve wallowed in my past, hurting for my broken childhood. Only recently have I decided that enough is enough. After a particularity bad event I felt forced to break off with my mother to be able to heal and become stable in myself. I couldn’t do that as long as I needed to be my mothers mother, or her psychologist, or her economist, or her.. you get it.
I work hard to, and still want to, leave the past in the past. But sometimes it bubbles up and reminds me that even if the wounds have long since healed, the scars are still there. Today such an even occurred. I struggled to handle the situation but it ended in tears nevertheless. The ones involved in the situation are unaware of my feelings and I will never let them suspect what feelings are stirring underneath the shell. I know it wasn’t personal or maybe even thought of, but it still hurt.
I just wish.. that they wouldn’t forget about me. That they count me as someone as important to them as they are to me. All I ever wanted was to belong. To feel that I, even if we didn’t grow up together, had a family that would always support and love me whatever happened in my life. For a short while I fell into that pit of despair, crying uncontrollably against T’s shoulder. When I came around and calmed down a bit I came to the same realization I always do. I have that in my life, that unbound support and love, it’s just not blood bound.