Evolution
It's that time again, time to make the trip back to Hellifornia for the holidaze. I haven't been "home" in 18 months. I decided Spanxgiving would be the more manageable. No fucking way I'd spend Xxxmas with my FoO (Family of Origin), although, in a way, I am, since my mom will be coming to visit me then. That's a whole other blog post, though. Back on task ...
So, yeah, I'm going home for Spanxgiving. Thankfully, The Unfriend brought it to my attention that, even though I have 6 days off, I am not required to spend all 6 of those days in Hellifornia. Why didn't I think of that? - 'cause I'm programmed to believe I am obligated to spend as much time as possible with the FoO, and what's more, I'm obligated to enjoy it (or at least pretend to be). But thanks to The Unfriend, I will only be sacrificing 4 of my 6 vacation days to the FoO. That gives my FoC (Family of Choice) 2 vacation days to deprogram me upon my return to Seattle. (Copious amounts of chocolate and Coke Zero will help. Kittens and puppies help too.)
So, I imagine someone saying, if it's so hellish for you, why are you going? I'm not gonna lie to you. It's guilt. Plain and simple. That's all. My grandparents are getting older, and I don't want to look back when they're dead and gone and think to myself, "I should have spent more time with them." And truth be told, my FoO is not evil. They are just very, very toxic, and I can only take so much of that toxicity before it starts to infect my mind and heart and soul. I've worked so fucking hard to get away from them and their poison, and to purge myself of that poison. I'm not willing to be poisoned by them again. So I guard my new life - my Seattle life - with a measured amount of vehemence.
I've come to realize, my FoO, they are doing the best they can with what they've got, y'know? I no longer blame them for all the shit they sling. They can't help it. They don't know any better. So, no, I don't blame them for being the highly histrionic, dysfunctional bunch that they are - but that doesn't mean I have to eat the shit they sling with a smile and ask for seconds.
Family. We don't choose them. We're just kind of plopped into the middle of one randomly, like a fish dropped into the drink. Some of us get dropped into calm, glistening, clear pools of fresh crystalline water. Others of us get dropped into the rougher conditions of salty, broiling ocean water. And then others of us get dropped in raw sewage. Good luck, buddy! Hope you're a strong swimmer...
So, yeah, I'm going home for Spanxgiving. Thankfully, The Unfriend brought it to my attention that, even though I have 6 days off, I am not required to spend all 6 of those days in Hellifornia. Why didn't I think of that? - 'cause I'm programmed to believe I am obligated to spend as much time as possible with the FoO, and what's more, I'm obligated to enjoy it (or at least pretend to be). But thanks to The Unfriend, I will only be sacrificing 4 of my 6 vacation days to the FoO. That gives my FoC (Family of Choice) 2 vacation days to deprogram me upon my return to Seattle. (Copious amounts of chocolate and Coke Zero will help. Kittens and puppies help too.)
So, I imagine someone saying, if it's so hellish for you, why are you going? I'm not gonna lie to you. It's guilt. Plain and simple. That's all. My grandparents are getting older, and I don't want to look back when they're dead and gone and think to myself, "I should have spent more time with them." And truth be told, my FoO is not evil. They are just very, very toxic, and I can only take so much of that toxicity before it starts to infect my mind and heart and soul. I've worked so fucking hard to get away from them and their poison, and to purge myself of that poison. I'm not willing to be poisoned by them again. So I guard my new life - my Seattle life - with a measured amount of vehemence.
I've come to realize, my FoO, they are doing the best they can with what they've got, y'know? I no longer blame them for all the shit they sling. They can't help it. They don't know any better. So, no, I don't blame them for being the highly histrionic, dysfunctional bunch that they are - but that doesn't mean I have to eat the shit they sling with a smile and ask for seconds.
Family. We don't choose them. We're just kind of plopped into the middle of one randomly, like a fish dropped into the drink. Some of us get dropped into calm, glistening, clear pools of fresh crystalline water. Others of us get dropped into the rougher conditions of salty, broiling ocean water. And then others of us get dropped in raw sewage. Good luck, buddy! Hope you're a strong swimmer...