Let me start by saying that I've been trying to connect with my spirit more and to let the harshness of my mind not over take my spirit. I've come to a moment where I just need to clear all this rubbish out of my mind so I can find some peace.
The source of my clogged up brain is members of my family. I honestly don't understand them. I am a person who wants to spend time with my family. When I say family, I mean my mom, stepdad, brother, soon to be sister in law, grandmother, aunt, uncle and cousin. I look forward to every get together, and every get together, except for a few exceptions, have not been what I hoped.
I see my aunt and uncle 1 time a year. Christmas eve at the scheduled 5:00 slot at their house. Every year. That's it. Once. They live 4 doors down from my mom but still don't attend any family functions.
My mom is the one who enjoys the repetition of a "cook out" which is always on a sat evening, with the same food always (and if you bring something yourself it will probably go untouched). The same conversations ensue. Everytime. Believe it or not, these are actually enjoyable. This also depends on the mood of my brother.
My brother and soon to be sister in law is a story that could have a life of its own. I'm not sure when it happened, but my brother and I have become so different from each other it's hard to believe we were ever growing up in the same house. I am 12 years older than him. Again, I don't know what it is, but we lately have started a underhanded "fight" with little smart comments to each other when ever we get together and we don't see each other often. We used to, but not any more. I hold a lot of guilt about not spending enough time with him when he grew up, ... this being true since he told my husband he thinks of himself as an only child.
My grandmother(who is nearly 90) is the only one who seems to have
any sense and my stepdad. They are the sane in the wash of chaos.
My mom's primary goal in life I have noticed, is to re-live the past and to take as many cheap shots at my grandmother about her childhood as possible.
All in all, they are my family. I love them. I want to spend time with them even though they make my brain hurt.
But, for whatever reason, they don't feel the same. They love me. They just don't want to spend much time with me. Or be close to me.
The story of my father and I would fill another entire journal that I will spare you.
I'm going to spend time with my sadness for a bit longer and let it float away. Thanks for reading. Thanks for letting me clear my head.