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peculiarjemini · 7 years ago

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This Weekend

So, I kept eluding to family and epiphanies and this weekend in my last post, but I never actually explained what happened. Let’s fix and analyze that. I really don’t want to have to relearn this lesson the hard way again.

Not only was this weekend the part of the most important weeks of the year at work, but my BiL, one of the most important people in my better half’s life, was getting married.

You’d think it would have been the heat, or long hours, or lack of sleep from work would have been what broke me Friday night. I mean, that’s the hard stuff. But, no. It was the anticipation of the rehearsal dinner that pushed me over the edge.

Some pre-doing-something-new jitters skyrocketed into 2 hours of yelling, crying, fractured sentences, and a lot of hurtful exaggerations. I kept saying I was scared because I didn’t know what was going on. I didn’t have a script. I didn’t know what I needed to do. I didn’t need to be there. I wasn’t family…deep down I know that’s what was bothering me.

When I was younger, I always wanted to get married. I wanted a huge party surrounded by people who loved me and physical proof that I was an adult. That script I mentioned earlier was something I relieved very heavily on without even realizing it. To me, expectations and things people just had to do were 2 different things. Expectations were internal, whereas some things people just crave and do. I guess you could say I was giving instincts more credit than they’re worth. This has been one of my biggest realizations in the past year that and I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.

Although I no longer harbor the naive fantasy that getting married will make me feel like an adult and cause all my problems to go away, I still have a few hang ups. For one, it’s one show I have no control over starting. Trust me, I’ve unintentionally given at least two proposal-esque speeches over the last 5 years and we still can’t be in the same insurance. This actually doesn’t bother me like it used to, but the anticipation of 130 people under one barn asking when you’re next tends to dredge up old feelings.

But here’s the thing: I TOTALLY understand why those plans are on hold. Money is a huge factor. I get it, really. Like, I’ve been established in my field for almost 8 years (plus school), whereas his first few paths have hit dead ends. And that’s ok. Getting into the right field the first time is highly unrealistic, especially for brains wired like ours. I know that I got lucky…but I’m also realizing that wasn’t the only factor. I have the potential for so much more. I think he’s starting to, too.

But money is just a thing. It doesn’t have to rule your life, unless you let it. It’s a big fucking world out there and you don’t have to settle on the culture you were raised in. My dad once said to me that vices and religion are one in the same. You put faith in that object, person, action, or belief, and dedicate your life to it. At first the comparison of a puff and a prayer sounded outlandish, but it’s all a matter of perspective and priority. Take away intention and social aspects and the similarities are hard to unsee.

But, in my very very predictable fashion, I also see the other side. Intention means SO much more to me than actions. Not just with apologies, but any interaction. Is that really so uncommon?

My other major hangup is simultaneously shallow and endearing: the label. Proof. Proof that we’re as stronger than we’re given credit for. No more awkward games of ‘are you siblings, married, oooor?’ And a badge that says not interested. Most importantly, a true gesture of commitment from the person who gets me as much as I get them, the person who taught me that unconditional love exists.

But as much as I’d love to, I can’t give him all the credit. Last night’s unforgettable experience with his family- our family- solidified that. For years now they’ve been saying I was part of the family, but a part of me could never allow me to fully believe it. I was too scared. Scared of being hurt, of more abandonment. Scared of having to start over, alone, once again.

Actually, it was the post meltdown reaction that opened my eyes. Instead angry faces and sharp tongues, we were greeted as if we hadn’t been 40 minutes late. In fact, we could have gotten away without mentioning a word if we had hidden the post argument tension better.

All seemed normal by the end of dinner, at least until it was time for goodbyes. A chat with one older sibling and his wife suddenly became an intervention of sorts. They knew something was wrong, and had been for a while.

It was the groom joining our conversation that shook everything into perspective. It’s one things to hear from one family, but to hear them all at once saying they love and care about us? Offering to help in any way possible despite not knowing all the details and actually meaning it? A wave of relief filled my chest as I carefully filled some in some of the gaps. I reiterated how crazy our workweeks had been and glazed over our financial situation from the past couple weeks.

Their reactions started exactly how I expected them to: everyone goes through cray work weeks, financial issues, blah blah blah. Thanks, mom. Thanks for reminding me that my life isn’t hard, I just suck at coping.

Fortunately, I was too exhausted to argue and let them continue. "Yes, everyone has hardships, but you don't have to go through them alone. Young don't have to be on an island. We love and care about both of you and are will to help any way we can. Please, open up to us. Convince our baby brother to open up to us." That's when it clicked . This is genuine. There is no angle, no gain. They sincerely want us in their lives as much as I want to be in theirs. We do have a family. That didn't sink in over night, of course, but it did open the gate. After a night of long talks and too many thoughts, I was ready to open up...and I did. I trusted my instinct (the real, non scripted kind) and confided in our eldest SiL. Good news too, my instincts were right. She told me what he was like when they met and how they worked through some of his anger issues. She told me about the jealously he had to overcome with watching his younger brothers grow up. I couldn't believe how similar their stories were! Both were jealous and felt the other had a better advantage growing up, for the same reasons, even! It made me wonder if my brother and I share a similar story. Instead of guilt or shame, I felt relief. Not once did she make me feel judged or wrong, not even when my deep seeded intimacy issues came to light. I'd like to think that a brothers' day before the ceremony did some good for him, too. We ran into each other again just before the ceremony and it as if this week had ever happened at all. The ceremony was perfect in every way and I was so proud to have a front row seat to one of the most important days in our family's lives. The reception was equally magical. I could spend hours reliving all of the tiny moments that solidified my sense of belonging. Every interaction added to the certainty. The look on my eventual MiLs face when I asked to call her mom and the equally precious when I popped a similar question to her husband. My favorite part of the evening ended up being the part I was fearing most: our relationship. Brushing off jokes and questions about us getting hitched ended up being as easy as, "Good question, you should ask him!" Followed by a mutual chuckle. The pressure was all in our minds. I was immediately hunted down by the groom it came time to toss the bouquet. Despite their efforts, the bouquet literally slipped through my fingertips and landed in then hands of someone else. We had a good laugh and went on with the night. All had been completely forgotten until the lights flipped back on for last call. I heard the groom shout my name and turned just has he tossed something my way. It was his wife's bouquet. Apparently it had been left behind on one of the tables. They easily could have kept it without any of us noticing or thinking twice. But they didn't. They gave it to me, threw it even. And to come from the one other person who was always there for my better half? That, my friends, is far closer to a sign than fighting in a blind game of chance . To me, it was the ultimate gesture of acceptance. I think I'm finally starting to see how sincerity can be genuine. This weekend has also been a very important step on my road to self forgiveness. There’s no unanimous tally of good and bad that everyone is supposed to know about and follow. Emotions, feelings, status- all of those are fleeting. It’s your interpretation of these things that dictate how they effect your life.

And that’s why I’m writing, why I’m telling my story. I’m not here begging for for advice or attention. This is merely an outlet for me to record and hopefully better organize my thoughts in a manner I can actually ready and can access from anywhere. I have a tendency to only write in dark times, but I'd like to break that part of my life script. I may be human, but anxiety doesn't have to rule my life. It would have been SO MUCH EASIER to have given up and stayed home when it overwhelmed me Friday night. Too many times have I allowed those feelings to continue and wallow in self doubt for then remainder of the weekend. Better half could have let me, but he didn't. We didn't. I have never been more pleased to admit I was wrong. This kid is a fucking rock.

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peculiarjemini · 7 years ago

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Family

Last night was the first time in a long time that I really felt like I belonged somewhere. It was truly a day I will cherish for years to come. Acceptance has never been an easy concept for me. For one reason or another, I never feel that I truly belong. Something feels like it's missing, or I sense something that's off. With my mother's side of the family, it's my past. You see, we all have a pesky habit of hanging onto stuff for far too long. I grew up never knowing which embarrassing moment was going to be turned into some redundant inside joke next. I won't pretend I didn't do my fair share of poking fun, but I've also begun to realize how toxic clinging can be. I now can see how certain "jokes" have, for a lack of better words, fucked me up long term. Only recently have I begun to see how all of these tiny incidents have built up into a bundle of anxieties. But, let's stay on topic. My father's side. Oh boy, where do we start with this. Between the age gaps with my cousins (I'm the oldest in my mom's side's youngest generation) and the physical distance, there wasn't a much of a relationship growing up. I'd see them on certain holidays and that was about it. Even after we moved to the same town, I almost never saw them. Financial troubles within the business my father tried to start up with his siblings added to the strain. It came to a point where we didn't talk or even visit on Christmas for a few years. It wasn't until years later that I even began to understand why. It's been almost 10 years since that has resolved and I'm still learning new bits to the story. It's coming to the point where I'm not entirely convinced it was as one sided as my mother lead us to believe. And then I met someone in college. Through an insane turn of events (and a little bit of selfishness), I met someone new. Someone not from the same town or school. This was a first. My impulsive nature said don't let a story this good get away. I didn't. So we started to date. I met his family a few times, but it wasn't following year that we really got to know each other. I was 19, my mom was going through another one of her "extra crazy" phases and I needed to gtfo. My parents wanted me to save money by living at home during college, but that also meant dealing with a myriad of rules that lead to loud consequences when broken. The fights between my mother and I were only getting worse. My dad was working out of state, so my brother became her substitute partner on dealing with my stubbornness. In a crazed frenzy to just be left alone, he eventually got hurt. No matter how many times I've apologized and/ or tried to explain my true intentions (i.e. It was an accident), he's never allowed himself to truly forgive me. This has unfortunately a common theme in our relationship. No wonder I allowed things in this new relationship spiral into the mess that still seems to control my life today...6 years later. But back to his family. There was a period of nearly 6 months where we lived in the finished garage of his eldest sister. At the time, she was running a daycare out of her home while simultaneously raising 5 kids ranging from a toddler to the eldest nearly in high school. On top of that, other family members were constantly in and out the door. When things back home got rough, they welcomed me and my dog in with open arms. I hadn't felt this sort of family love since childhood. Maybe ever. Needless to say, my guard was down. Love has that affect on people, I suppose. After 2 years of fighting, the inevitable finally happened: we broke up. Two weeks after our third anniversary, he ended it. I don't remember the exact circumstances, but I know my anxiety from my first week at my first real post-college job and dad's surgery played a huge part. I was a wreck. If losing my best friend and residence wasn't enough, i felt like I lost my entire family and didn't even get to say goodbye. A mom, a sister, 6 nieces and nephews, and another brother and his wife. I never had the courage to say good bye. Dealing with fear and shame has never been my strong suite. Two weeks after that, my closest friend moved 15 hours away. Then, barely a month before my parents were set to move back to our home town (4 hours away), my closest grandparent passed in a horrific accident. The second half of the year wasn't much better. And a part of me knew. Knew we were t right for each other. Knew I should have stayed away, but I was stubborn. I wanted to prove everyone wrong, wanted to prove we could change. That I could change. That all this time and energy wasn't a waste. And you know what, it wasn't. Every shitty situation can be turned into a learning experience, you just have to learn to let go of the fear of a repeat. It doesn't always have to end that way. Not every boy is the same. You shouldn't feel guilty for being in a relationship with someone you care about. And you should trust when they look you dead in the eye and say they love you. Not always, but sometimes they actually mean it. That's what I've learned this weekend.

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