this year, the only tears I cried were tears of happiness, for the first time in years the holidays are not filled with trying to forget why no one calls why everyone has forgotten what family is supposed to mean, that i can’t keep pretending that it’s okay, that they’re just busy, that tomorrow i’ll be allowed in my mother’s house. not only when she’s not at work because no one will stand up for me. no one remembers that i am family too. or i was.
i don’t know what made it easy this year, whether the holidays just snuck up on me among the mounds of paper work and self-absorption, or whether this means that there is healing over time. whether this means that i’ve grown up to the point where it doesn’t drive me insane to see families that love each other. that make me think that it’s so unfair. that make me think i’m worthless because my own mother, brother, sisters can’t love me enough to fight for me. that they’ve all just given up because life was made too hard.
but this isn’t a sad story. this is a revelation that maybe my past won’t burden me forever. that being okay won’t be a performance some day. that as cherrie moraga said, sometimes you have to build your family out of nothing when yours rejects you. i wish you were all here with me right now. each and everyone of you has filled i space i didn’t think could be filled.
