Families are good for many things.
At their best, they support and liberate at the same time. And they are at their best when our definition of what they are is at its best, also. I mentioned the other day how I had begun to describe and think of those members of my family who I actually like being with not as my family but as my friends. Conversely, those people I meet and fall in love with, and whose bloodline bears no connection with mine, become what I consider my true family.
I think that’s the best definition of family we can have. Not blood relations: love relations.
I’m slowly, gradually, soundly, strongly emerging from a long depression which lasted about eleven years. It was triggered by events which I have gone into recently, but do not need now to repeat: it’s enough to say they hurt me a lot, and I in turn hurt many others too – of multiple generations.
But things are beginning to seem very different. I can sense, smell, touch and watch it happening. I am beginning to regain – or maybe that’s gain for the first time – the courage to have the convictions I always believed in.
Family cry-sieze still seize me up a bit, mind: but today – with two fairly minor but whackily dramatised ones, unreasonably and just a tad violently sandwiching a peaceful middle of the afternoon of taking photos on my part – I resisted the temptation to allow such events to drive me into temporary blacknesses. My brain does weird things usually when moments of familial anguish are pushed my way: my body posture changes; my feelings become very low; a maelstrom of memories – of things I was not allowed to do all my life – crowd into my very being, and my very self, and that very moment.
But today it didn’t happen.
And I am getting much better at preventing it from doing so.
And I know what I need: I need to be free of toxic blood – whether relations or friendships, it’s love I actually need. And this love may even be fairly tough: yes, I realise that a lot of what’s been happening around my being the last year or so may have constituted that kind of love, offered up by friends and family (ie bloodships and loveships) who perhaps did, after all, know better.
So anyhow. It’s true. I am finally getting there. It’s been a hard ride for us all.
But one day, one very good day, we’ll all have the opportunity to understand freedom. And I want it for us all. But mostly, I want it for me.