Family is a Complicated Thing
I wish I could explain to someone the dynamics of my family situation and have them truly understand. Then maybe I wouldn’t feel so alone in this.
There’s so much good mixed with so much bad. And I wonder every day if the good is even worth it. But that’s not up to me. Like it or not, they’re my family. No matter how far I try to run from them, our shared DNA and my love for them will always pull me back.
There is yelling, of some sort, nearly every day. My parents fighting with each other or with one of us or with my grandmother. Or they’re just upset over one of the many trials that life has thrown at them.
On the other hand, I’ve never known a place more intellectually stimulating, more interesting and lively, more truth centered than my home is.
But the constant negativity of this environment weighs so heavily on me. I will admit that my soul has become extra sensitive amidst some of the heartaches that I have endured. Perhaps I am in a weakened state and that is why I feel like I’m drowning. Maybe I just need to run more. I hear that cardio strengthens the heart.
I want, someday, to be able to say that I made it out, strong and alive, and that I have created something beautiful: a home that knows only love and happiness, a place where truth and kindness and positivity reign supreme.
Until then, I just need to keep on keeping on.
I’m aware that this piece of writing makes it sound as if I come from an abusive domestic situation filled with people I despise. On the contrary, I love my family with every fiber of my being and truly think that they’re some of the best individuals I’ve ever known.
That’s why it hurts so much. We only feel heartbreak from the people we love.
