Oh -- more family fuckery
I must admit, I’m intrigued by this notion that we selected our biological families before we got here - before the earth school experience.
I can understand why I would select my mother.
But the other day, around Father’s Day, I was flipping and found this video that discussed how you chose your dad even though he might not have been a stellar father.
Why - well, perhaps because you signed up for advanced classes on earth school for a higher lesson and evolution.
Well, great, I thought -
I guess I was overly ambitious to bite off a bit more than I could chew - even before this life.
I do find it curious though…
Now, I’mma gonna stop right here and just add this disclaimer-
I am bright enough to realize the bullshit -
And I am fully conscious of the fact that I’m even entertaining all this is a desperate attempt to make sense out of my life— why this family, why this journey, all that existential crap.
Ie- what the fuck is the purpose? Sometimes I could almost see it if I had my own kids and I was meant to heal my bloodline, but I don’t have any.
I do tend to cling to the idea that we are engaging in ancestral healing and healing our ancestors. (Though again, probably because I’m reaching for purpose and meaning and a reason why all the fucking work and healing.)
Also this -
I live in a very small town in Kentucky and many people who live near to me, and who are very dear to me here have lived very, very different lives than I have.
And I am regularly made to remember that.
One even admitted quite honestly to me the other day, after hearing a bit about my journey-
I can’t even imagine.
Well, that’s fair. Many can’t.
I can scarce imagine it many days, and I lived it.
But, being around them, with their large extended families, I often find myself wondering -
What the hell would that have been like?
To have a simpler family life. I say simpler because I know that all families have their own dysfunction and drama and fuckery.
But I do wonder - family reunions and just - the extensions - the
Grandparents, and great grandparents around. All the cousins and close-knit family. Around. In the town. All nearby. All known. Staying in touch.
Whoa - A family without intergenerational trauma and cycles of abuse and childhood abandonment and mental illness and suicide and alcoholism?
THAT is hard for me to imagine.
Being surrounded by these little old ladies whose whole lives - of course- are entirely focused on their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, makes me reflect on the choices I’ve made in life.
And how they are oh-so-very different from such a family-focused life.
It does cause me to grieve, to have that heartache and gnawing ache-
Because I think about my lost children. And the heartache that comes from shattered dreams/the illusion I once had, from having loved a narcissist, then realizing that it was always a lie and performance, and that they are incapable of genuine love.
But the sadness and truth is also this -
This journey of my life, with this family, is rough, and it’s really fucking lonely a lot of the time.
Now, I’ll say this-
It’s very heavy, but I have learned to carry it.
But, in the last few years, I also realize that even if I had had all the money in the world to raise a kid independently and send them to great schools and pay for daycare or a nanny, etc -
Subjecting them to my family line just feels fucking cruel.
It’s a whollop of a family history to detail for medical history.
It would also be quite lonely - no grandparents, aunt/uncle, what- a few cousins, an aunt, some other distant relatives.
They would deserve more community.
And I wouldn’t want to do this alone.
It has taken me until my 40s to feel like I finally have a really good handle on my trauma and family dysfunction and mental health and I’m stable and regulated and sober -
I am finally emerging from the woman I was meant to be -
Before I married too young.
Before suicide number 1, then two.
Before narcissistic abuse.
The last thing I want is a partner, or a kid, or a family.
The logistics of that make my head hurt and make me feel excruciatingly exhausted.
I’m happy to assume aunty roles and send books. Visit, then go home.
But - though I know that this is where I am meant to be right now, and I am meant to be single and childless -
I also have no idea if I had come from a more stable family, childhood, if I would have made different decisions…
I very well may have.
As I did not, instead, I ran like hell out of Panama as soon as I could. And I knew that I was never coming back for any lengthy period of time.
I knew that I wanted little association with this itty bitty town of small town politics and nosiness and busybody minds and inquiring eyes and hears - all the time.
But - I also feel like - my decisions not to have children, or to be lucky enough to lose the ones that I did - feel like I protected another generation from trauma and dysfunctional bullshit.
I live in defiance to many generations of women who came before me - I don’t cater my life to men or to children.
I also am happy to know that statistically - I’ll have more money, I’ll be happier, and I’ll live longer, because I won’t be pouring money into them.
It may gnaw and ache a bit at times, but then I also go home and do whatever the fuck that I want with my life.
And that part sort of rocks too.