Just Willow

Lost my voice

So I haven’t been on here in a long time. I got kind of lost. The real world is very confusing at times and I’ve been on a roller coaster that just won’t quit. I’ll try to post more often, though.

Mi Familia

I find myself asking whether or not I ever really had a family. While going through boxes of my stuff the last few days I found a bunch of old photos. Some that were taken while I was in High School. I found pictures of my younger siblings and myself. I remember this one day we were goofing off so we took my camera into the hallway bathroom (best light in the house) and started goofing off with the camera.

Some really goofy pictures were taken. My brother and I crossing our eyes and sticking out our tongues. My little sister throwing the peace sign and making a ridiculous face. A stranger would look at those pictures and think…what a happy family. We were…the three of us at least. My younger siblings and I found strength and happiness together.

Three kids of varied ages trying to cope with the growing insanity of their mother. Trying to avoid the unexplained hatred of our older sister. We depended on each other for survival. In that moment we were a family. Then it all changed. I look at those pictures and realize that was the last time the three of us were together like that.

I don’t mean together in person I mean together emotionally. Once I was thrown out of the house things changed. The biggest mistake I’ve ever made was the day I chose my freedom over my siblings. They needed me and I wish I’d stayed. I know that we are always where we are supposed to be. I do believe that everything happens for a reason, but at the same time I feel guilty. I feel selfish. I left them and look at them now.

I wonder where I’d be if I’d stayed here to take care of them. Our bond was strong. It still is, but in a different way now. Here I am, though, about to abandon them again. I know they’re both adults and they’re both actually doing well in life. I just hate that I am leaving them once more. They know I’ll always be there for them but part of me can’t help but feel guilty.

That’s my lot in life, I think. I feel guilty over everything. Even things that are beyond my control. It’s not hard to hurt me or manipulate me. After my marriage fell apart my therapist (court ordered) told me that I cared too much. She said I am too generous and far too compassionate. How can someone care too much? I don’t understand that concept.

I love my friends. I love my family, though I love some members more than others. I love learning. I love new discoveries, science, nature, beauty, passion, art, music, animals, poetry, everything! I care about everyone in my life and I always try to be there for friends. So what if I cry when a friend is hurting. So what if I feel guilty that I can’t do more to help. Doesn’t that just mean I have a heart? Maybe someone else can explain what my therapist meant.

I just don’t think there’s such a thing as caring too much. Of course it does get me used…more than I care to say, but still. I can’t stop caring, and I can’t start to care less about everything. If I do that then I’ll just be denying who I really am. I haven’t changed for anyone and I never will.

So I realized, while looking through these photos, that I have a family. It’s just not “conventional”. I have my younger siblings, and my friends. That’s all I really need. I’m blessed with great friends and I couldn’t ask for a better family than them.

- Willow