If friends are the family you choose, then what does that imply about your family? It's like you're saddled with these people you share genetic and financial responsibility for, with little else to bind you together.
My family is unconventional I suppose.
In relation to the greater tree, we're nearly estranged beyond the cursory holiday calls and cards. My mother's side is spread across the other coast, with a few others dotted about the Midwest. My father's side is simply a collection of distant cousins and gravestones, and beyond my one uncle, I haven't seen anyone from that side of the family in over a decade.
We don't have ties. We either don't have them, or we don't maintain them, and I'm certain that has influenced my relationships with other people.
I end up viewing every interaction as temporary. I haven't maintained a "best friend" relationship for longer then two years, and most people tend to move in and out of my life at will, for whatever reason presents itself.
It doesn't bother me when people are so flighty because it seems so natural to me. It's not something I expect out of bitter apathy, it's just something that's proven to be true throughout life.
People leave, things go on.
My sister and I have only recently begun to relate to each other as human beings rather then punching bags, and the change is nothing short of bizzare. I actually like her family, and I enjoy spending time with them, which I didn't expect to ever say about my sister.
At the core of all these family issues is my relationship with my mother, which seems to be laden with all sorts of unfair resentment.
When my father died, I found myself becoming the emotional backbone of my new family unit at an unfairly young age, and I think that set precedents that still affect how we relate today. Through my formative years, my mother was resigned to let me raise myself because I gave illusions that I was capable of the task. But as a result of her reduced involvement, I never got the discipline I needed.
She didn't want to pressure me after we'd been through so much, so my grades were abysmal. We never went to the dermatologist to clear up my skin because I didn't press the issue. We never got my teeth fixed. We never got the dog to the vet. I never got into college because my grades were abysmal.
All of those things are my fault, and that's why I resent my mother. Because none of them should have been my responsibility. I was never capable of doing it alone, but I feel guilty for even hinting at blame. She encouraged my artistic pursuits. She paid my rent when I could not. She kept me fed and clothed. She provided, and she shouldn't have ever been forced to do it alone either.
Life stinks.
I don't expect a lot from my mother, so I was more then dissapointed when she choose to be offended by Gretchen's reluctance to socialize.
My sister took it in stride, asking if she was ashamed of me, then questioning wether or not she really exists. My neices said they couldn't wait to meet her someday, and my nephiew asked if I had a girlfriend.
My mother said nothing.
When we finally returned home, Gretchen came down so we could all watch Nurse Betty together. Gretchen and I cuddled while my mom cross-stitched.
Little else was said between us.
She was becomming more and more stand-offish as the time went on.
I could tell this was going to be an up-hill battle.
