You know, there comes a point in your life in which you have to decide about family. Some people just have a predisposition to keep family contacts, regardless of how far away the family members are, and then there’s the rest of us… we suck. And then there comes the extra complication of moving, whether it be out of state or cross-country. But then there’s this weird feeling that overtakes me sometimes… it’s the storm of wanted relationships that are lost… and yet not even knowing where to start.
It’s funny but moving cross-country at 8 kind of trapped me between two worlds in some ways. See, there’s this part of my life that I could refer to as my childhood that seems to be stranded in California and then my adolescence is somehow caught in Cincinnati. But in the passage of time on the road between, I seem to have lost some belongings. California seems like a dream, my extended family is mere evidences that just maybe California was real at times. But then it’s like I get caught in this childish naivety that what is not close, distance-wise, cannot be close. And then forgotten, lost friends and family fall in the wake of this Titanic thinking.
It’s funny how family means something completely different after getting married. You know, there’s some marriages where the newly weds’ in-laws seem to be family and then there’s other situations where I hear the “dreaded in-laws” concept. You know, it’s the concept that Hollywood Hallmarks as the “typical” situation; stiff and unwavering family traditions that refuse “non-blood” relationships and marry-ins.
But even beyond the family context, I think age teaches an adult to value family more, yet it’s kind of funny that children appear to be more adaptable to the change of a growing family. But then again… all I can speak from is my own experiences and observations of other families and my own.
I must confess, though, that I have found myself stuck in a tangle of regret and determination. I don’t want to be “far” from family members while sharing a meal. I don’t want to have absolutely no idea about my sister’s life or even my sisters-in-laws’ lives. I don’t want to wake up in ten years, 300,000 miles from my family only to find that even if I lived down the street from them, I wouldn’t know them.
Since I moved from California at such a young age, I didn’t contact my extended family. I never wrote much beyond the first year of moving. I got absorbed in “here and now” and slowly began to think less of my “California family” and then they became strangers.
And part of me doesn’t know how to relate to them from this point on, I’m not going to lie. And there’s much regret in those thoughts. And then there’s a determination birthed from that processing spurring me on to maintain current family relationships.
Yet there’s this funny lapse that I do quite frequently. I’m in Ohio, my extended family is all over the place… and there’s this odd disconnect between the two as if they both cannot exist. Both California and Cincinnati cannot exist simultaneously. The California I remember is no more. And yet so is the Cincinnati. And then I wonder, so where does that leave me?
Anyone else out there stuck in a similar oddity or is it just my psychotic features showing?
– This counseling session brought to you in high definition recording upon mail-in request. – HA! (Sorry for unloading a rambling blah this morning.)