Family Disconnected
Some people use the word family and it means something warm and inviting, like a big bathtub full of warm water and bubbles. For me the word family was a jagged pill under the best of circumstances but as the holidays approach each year, it becomes even harder. My mother was an abusive bi-polar manic-depressive so it made sense that I married a manic-depressive with sociopathic tendencies. To say that family was complicated is an understatement. Of course my husband didn’t get along with my mother, and if I wanted to spend time with her I had to carefully plan and plead for the opportunity or, better yet, I had to see her behind his back. This particular year was my oldest daughter’s first Thanksgiving and I had hoped to be able to spend some part of it with both my family and my in-laws. True to form, my husband had decided that we would stay home, eschewing any familial activities.
I didn’t mind the cooking, or having Thanksgiving at our home, I just minded the fact that my family was never considered an option. Ultimately, it worked out that my husband traveled out of town for a week a short time before the holiday. I invited my mother and grandmother over for a nice dinner so they could have some time with my daughter. At 6 months of age she didn’t do much but enjoyed eating my grandma’s spaghetti with us. My mom was on her best behavior and all around it was just a lovely evening. As they were leaving I quickly looked around to make sure nothing was left behind, any evidence would alert my husband to the fact they had visited. Later that evening I realized that as my daughter got older such evenings wouldn’t be possible; she would be able to talk and any meetings with her Nana would be something she would want to talk about, she would never understand why it would need to be a secret. This warm and pleasant evening, sharing my beautiful new baby with my mother and grandmother, would never be allowed by my husband. He would tell me it was for my own good, he would point out the many flaws in my mother and then express the concern that having her around our child was dangerous. He would buy me something nice as a gift (bribe) for going along with his wishes. I had managed to steal this tiny moment, but who knew when I might have the opportunity again? As I went to sleep that night I realized how isolated I was from my family. I had never felt so alone.
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