Alone again, naturally
I realize from now on I have to lie to people. I don't think many people believe me when I say I'm fine being alone and don't care to celebrate certain holidays. I guess people take it as a cry for help? Which is kinda sweet, but also kinda obnoxious and clearly indicative that they don't know who the hell I am. 'Cause nothing about me is the "cry for help" type. For the past two years co-workers have invited me to their places when I said I wasn't doing anything for the holidays (New Year's, Genocide Day, X-mas, etc). Nice that they would think to include me, but srsly... I don't wanna be around MY family let alone yours. I don't like my family, but at least I know their type of crazy. I'd choose familiar crazy over stranger crazy any day.
And then I feel bad about declining. Eventhough I always make it clear that I'm alone by my choosing (I speak about how I'm avoiding my family and smile a lot when talking about my solo plans) and it's not like *I* ask them in the first place! But they act wounded. I guess it feels like "she'd rather be alone than with me?"
Muthafucka, yes!!
No offense, but yes. I like myself. I am good company. I would rather hang out with me than you. Sorry! And what would that look like anyway? "Hi, this is my co-worker Ebony. Yeah, she was alone in a basement begging for air and I came and rescued her and brought her to our family function." Maybe they just can't conceive that I'd be fine staying home by myself. But *I* can't conceive anyone would be fine being at a someone else's family function to avoid being alone. THAT shit trips me out. So yeah, basically I'm just gonna start telling people that I'm going to my family's house instead of telling them I'm gonna be alone. No matter how I say it folks don't get that I want it that way.
I was an extremely shy and cautious child. When I was about 6, my birth mother (no doubt for some selfish and immature reason) dropped me off at random relatives' houses for a good year (give or take). I developed this idea that if I was "good" and quiet or maybe just blended in enough that I could stay in one place. I'd convinced myself that somehow I could control the instability if I just shut up and stayed out of trouble (not that I'd ever caused trouble, just seemed like a likely reason kids get tossed around). Eventually I wound up back at my (non-bio) mother's and remembered what stability felt like (though issues from that time still creep up).
Bear with me, this is not as random as it seems.
Eventhough I had two brothers and a sister the age gap made it such that I was raised as if I were an only child. I remember waking up early X-mas mornings (once I got back to my mother's) before everyone else woke up. I'd eeeaaaasssse out the bed trying to stop it from squeaking. Then tip-toe towards the living room. Then I'd sit in silence slowly and tenderly pealing off the gift wrap hoping the wrapping paper didn't make too much noise. Those were wonderful memories. It felt like I owned X-mas. I could just sit there with my toys *quietly* playing and trying on the new clothes. I thought this was how all kids woke-up for X-mas. Until I spoke about it and the painstaking efforts I took in staying quiet. My sister kept talking about how when she woke up on X-mas she'd wake up the whole house! She'd run around yelling to everyone that Santa came, dragged my mother and gradnmother out of bed to watch her open gifts (another phenomenon I didn't fully understand until way later in life) and played with her toys loudly. It wasn't until that moment that I thought "maybe this is kinda odd?"
I say all this to say even in a house full of people I have enjoyed being "alone" on X-mas (and in general). When my parents finally woke up, it felt like they'd walked in on my secret playhouse. Like they had burst into my imagination and made the whole beautiful scenery disappear. I learned how to play well by myself as a pseudo-only kid. Sometimes I like to re-visit that.
And then I feel bad about declining. Eventhough I always make it clear that I'm alone by my choosing (I speak about how I'm avoiding my family and smile a lot when talking about my solo plans) and it's not like *I* ask them in the first place! But they act wounded. I guess it feels like "she'd rather be alone than with me?"
Muthafucka, yes!!
No offense, but yes. I like myself. I am good company. I would rather hang out with me than you. Sorry! And what would that look like anyway? "Hi, this is my co-worker Ebony. Yeah, she was alone in a basement begging for air and I came and rescued her and brought her to our family function." Maybe they just can't conceive that I'd be fine staying home by myself. But *I* can't conceive anyone would be fine being at a someone else's family function to avoid being alone. THAT shit trips me out. So yeah, basically I'm just gonna start telling people that I'm going to my family's house instead of telling them I'm gonna be alone. No matter how I say it folks don't get that I want it that way.
I was an extremely shy and cautious child. When I was about 6, my birth mother (no doubt for some selfish and immature reason) dropped me off at random relatives' houses for a good year (give or take). I developed this idea that if I was "good" and quiet or maybe just blended in enough that I could stay in one place. I'd convinced myself that somehow I could control the instability if I just shut up and stayed out of trouble (not that I'd ever caused trouble, just seemed like a likely reason kids get tossed around). Eventually I wound up back at my (non-bio) mother's and remembered what stability felt like (though issues from that time still creep up).
Bear with me, this is not as random as it seems.
Eventhough I had two brothers and a sister the age gap made it such that I was raised as if I were an only child. I remember waking up early X-mas mornings (once I got back to my mother's) before everyone else woke up. I'd eeeaaaasssse out the bed trying to stop it from squeaking. Then tip-toe towards the living room. Then I'd sit in silence slowly and tenderly pealing off the gift wrap hoping the wrapping paper didn't make too much noise. Those were wonderful memories. It felt like I owned X-mas. I could just sit there with my toys *quietly* playing and trying on the new clothes. I thought this was how all kids woke-up for X-mas. Until I spoke about it and the painstaking efforts I took in staying quiet. My sister kept talking about how when she woke up on X-mas she'd wake up the whole house! She'd run around yelling to everyone that Santa came, dragged my mother and gradnmother out of bed to watch her open gifts (another phenomenon I didn't fully understand until way later in life) and played with her toys loudly. It wasn't until that moment that I thought "maybe this is kinda odd?"
I say all this to say even in a house full of people I have enjoyed being "alone" on X-mas (and in general). When my parents finally woke up, it felt like they'd walked in on my secret playhouse. Like they had burst into my imagination and made the whole beautiful scenery disappear. I learned how to play well by myself as a pseudo-only kid. Sometimes I like to re-visit that.