A cup of self-pity

First of all,


Today was spent lounging and being lazy and later we had dinner with Dusty’s family.

And for once, I waited to see if my family would call me instead of vice versa.

Just as I imagined, I didn’t get one phone call.  Howard did from his mom and his brother and his dad called last night.

But not one phone call for me.

This doesn’t surprise me much, really.  I’m the black sheep of the family.  I’m the one who packed her bags and ran as soon as I was legally able.  I don’t really talk to my family that much anyway.

But it still hurt.  It hurt to know that if I didn’t call them, they wouldn’t call me.

The only one I excuse is my memaw.  She’s elderly and she’s always afraid to call because she can never quite remember the time difference.  I know she’s thinking of me.

As far as the rest of them, they have their own lives.  I can’t really be mad at them either.  When my pawpaw died and I moved away, I knew that most of them wouldn’t make an effort at keeping in touch.  My mom and I email sometimes and that’s fine.  My sister only calls me when she wants something from me and unless I’m with my uncle in person, he and I never speak otherwise.  I’ve always been the different kind of kid, the kid who was the loner.  The kid who was so embarassed and disappointed in her family that she couldn’t wait to get away from them.  In a way, I’ve brought it all on myself.
Through the years, I’ve been fortunate to surround myself with people who have become my family.  I’m so thankful that I’ve made a family with Howard’s own.  And Howard really is all the family I need.  When he randomly walks by and takes my face in his hands and kisses me softly for no reason at all and then tells me he loves me and that I’m his whole life, it fulfills me.  Makes me remember that I’m damn lucky and I turn that cup of self-pity upside down, and toss it away.

I’ve got a warm home, an amazing husband, money in my pocket, food in my cupboards, and deep down, I know my family in all their twisted humanity really does love me.

(And mom or Tom, if you decide to call me after reading this, don’t bother, I know you’ll only be doing it because you feel bad and that would be so phony.  I’ll see you in February, hope you had a Merry Christmas and I love you.)

2 Responses

  1. amanda Says:

    Family is a bitch. I know I would think it strange if someone wrote this to me, but screw it. Your words resonate with me and some of my own experiences with family. I wish I could pick up the phone and help you not to be disappointed. I wish you a happy new year filled to the brim with a full life you build on your own with all the satisfaction, joy and support your family missed out on giving you.

  2. Tom Says:

    Hi, Chris.

    Sorry about no one calling you. I’ll tell you more about it in a less-public e-mail.

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