Family. It's a word that I never completely understood - like it was from some alien language that everyone else spoke and understood, but I could never grasp. I knew what it was supposed to mean, the feelings it was supposed to elicit, but the reality of it was missing for me.
This weekend was the annual Lee Family reunion/cookout in Enterprise. I'd been dreading it - for so many reasons - and it ended up being worse that I could have begun to imagine.
There's the usual Mom-and-Dad-fighting, never-knowing-the-plan, spend-way-more-time-with-my-brother-than-I-want that happens every year. This year though, added the element of my brother's new girlfriend that is sweet but I don't connect with, my niece opening up to me in a big way about how she feels about her dad (among other things) and my grandfather having one of his trance/possible stroke/we-don't-know-what-the-hell-happens episodes resulting in a night's stay in the hospital.
I left 2 days of being in surroundings that (in a perfect world - or at least seemingly everyone else's world) ooze love, support and happiness feeling the most alone, depressed and dark that I have felt in a long time. I just don't fit in and never have. I have none of the same interests. Most of these people spend time together and keep in touch year-round and (maybe this is the real key) actually remember each other. I always have trouble recalling people's names and how they fit together in the family - like a learning disability.
I realize how little anyone knows (or wants to know) about me. I put on this total front, talk about things I could give a shit about and try my damnest to wear a goofy smile while feeling distant and empty inside.
Of course, the "being single" issue also arises for me. No one talks about it - my entire extended family doesn't expect me to have anyone since I never have. But everyone in my family has someone. Even my friggin' 14-year-old niece has already had 2 boyfriends (which she told me all about). She's the one I have the most in common with (aside from just looking like she's my own child). She has a darkness about her, too, but she's not only lightyears ahead of me romantically - she also already has her own voice and isn't afraid to speak up for herself. I've only managed that over that last few years (although obviously still not with my family).
Since family is the most fundamental element of who we are, being an outcast from them makes me feel like an outcast from everyone. It makes me look at the relationships in my life, that are like what a family should be, with doubt and an expectation of failure. I still have work to do to make my feelings about my family not drop me in into the darkness of shame and self-destruction.
I am the self-assigned black sheep of my family - and they'll probably never know.
