When I left the house today, I left knowing I had so much to do. After a quick trip to Redondo Beach I was so overwhelmed that everything came to a screeching halt. I've been reevaluating things now for hours, wondering where I went wrong and what options I have to make things right again. I'm emotionally overwhelmed at the kindness handed to me after the unkind things I did in the past. I know I don't deserve these things, an yet - I did not turn them down. I could have handed it back. I didn't.
For the remainder of the day, I got the things done that could not go another day, like finally getting a lightbulb for the kitchen, food for the cats and the rent check taken care of. But everything else just became ... well ... everything else.
This time of year is usually hard on me. I was always a disappointment to my parents, and now that I've learned to stand up for myself even against them, I'm far more isolated than ever. My brother (my real brother) is a total douche bag who thinks I'm still that loud-mouth 12 year old kid who loved getting him into trouble all the time. The last words we ever shared between is were of his calling me a liar for who knows what reason that time, and me blocking him out of my life like he doesn't exist. I grew up moving around so much that I don't really know the rest of the family. I know OF them and I'm acquainted with quite a few of them, but I don't really know them. Other than my uncles Roger and Jim - they're a blessing to me, and I cherish every rare moment I get to share with them. But they are rare indeed.
Other than that, my family is comprised of the people I have been fortunate enough to surround myself with over the years. My brother Patric and his family took me in as one of their own. Two years ago when I went to their house for Christmas, it was the closest thing I had ever known to having a real family Christmas since becoming an adult. For a little while, I was a little girl again. I was showered with love by people who barely knew me and didn't expect anything in return but my happiness. I had a very happy family there. Sharon, Roy, Patric, Douglas, even Leah and Shawn. They adopted me and I adopted them. They've been my family now for a few years. I'm more than grateful.
I have other "family" too, like Lisa and Vicki I've known since High School, Bill I've known since I moved to California very nearly 11 years ago to the day, D'anna whom I've grown to call my sister and whom I adore, and more.
But I miss my OWN family. I miss opening the Christmas ornaments every year and finding the little golden haired porcelain doll in a red Christmas dress one one once thought looked like me. I missed hanging the icicles on the tree, the twinkling lights, the smell of pine. I miss shaking the gifts for my brother, wondering what they are. I miss the way I would pretend to know exactly what my parents reactions would be when they opened that one special present I got for them. I miss sharing that pancake breakfast with people that I saw every single day of my life - happy or sad. They were my stability then. I have none now.
I don't have a family of my own. I share someone else's for the holiday, and while that's wonderful and special and I will be grateful for as long as I live - I don't have a family of my own.
All I have now are two funny little cats who keep me company and let me cry my thoughts out into their fur each night I happen to be home. I love my cats. I do. They're what I've come to know as my family. But they don't talk to me, and with the exception of Cooper holding my hand when he sleeps by curling his little claws around my thumb, they don't hold me when I need to be held. They don't kiss me or hug me. And when I'm really upset, they tend to avoid me completely. I guess the tear soaked fluff gets old.
But I've been shown such kindness the fact I can't be more grateful makes me very angry at myself. There are people out there who care about me. I know they do. But if anything happened to me, my absence wouldn't be felt for more than a day. I'm not exactly important to anyone's life. Well, except my cats. They need me.
I posted a picture on Instagram earlier today (yes, I have an Instagram) with the quote...
"There is so much love in this world that I do not deserve and yet I receive. I only hope someday to do enough good things in my life to have earned half of what I have been given. I'm overwhelmed."
It's true. I don't even deserve 98% of the kindness that is given to me. But I'd give every bit of that back just to have my own family. Just to have someone I love, to have someone who loves me. Someone to be there when I need them. Someone to never send me away, to tell me I belong. Someone to tell me it will all be ok.
My life took a wrong turn somewhere and I don't know how to get it back on track. I'm desperately alone and horribly depressed. It's not just because I'm about to be another year older. That has absolutely nothing to do with it. It has EVERYTHING to do with being so alone in the world.
Where did I go wrong and how do I make it right? I know I deserve these tears falling off of my chin. I've hurt so many people. I deserve much worse. I deserve pain and anguish and despair. Maybe even torture and eventual death. But do I deserve to face everything by myself? I'm strong. I'm not invincible.
