I’m supposed to be
documenting my life experiences to make my life easier when I get old. When it
comes time to write my memoirs I can pretty much just print my blog.
Unfortunately a lot has
been happening internally that I haven’t been writing about. My mind set and
views have shifted and they should be noted down. Then in the last week or so
some actual life events occurred that were definitely worth jotting down. Hence
the reason for this blog. I’ll get to the internal revelations eventually but
the memories I have linked to specific events have an invisible expiration
date. My memory sucks.
Last Thursday morning
at 5am I awoke and started packing my bags for the 8:03 flight to Texas I would
be taking that day. The flight itself getting there is actually going to be the
subject of my humorous speech I have to give in Toastmasters in 3 weeks. It was
a hilarious experience…
But for now I’ll just
keep it short: I got on the plane. It flew. I landed.
Corpus Christi, Texas
is a humid tropical version Santa Cruz, CA with the ambience of Modesto,
California and other places in more rural towns near there. There were
thunderstorms throughout the stay, but I like the rain as long as it’s warm.
The reason for the trip out there was the Saturday wedding of my Aunt Carol
with my new Aunt-in-law Diane. I’ve mentioned both of them in previous blogs.
For a brief recap: My Aunt Carol is a Cancer-turned-Pisces in its virtue and
Diane is a Virgo turned Capricorn in its vice. So yah. They’re compatible on a
Spiritual and Emotional level.
The first day was spent
exploring their beach-themed house in small town. I met Diane’s sister Meredith
–who was a living definition of southern hospitality. I also got to see Carol
and Diane’s “Spiritual room” –which for my standards was lacking in the
spiritual symbols department. A couple photos on the wall of Native American
relics and some dolphin pictures. But they had a good amount of Crystal and Amethyst
around the home which led me to believe they knew what they were doing.
Basically if you want to be “Spiritual” you need Native American dream weavers
and similar relics, Celtic symbols, Indian henna symbols, yoga jargon, and Zen
space. They’re pretty well covered on the spiritual front. Now all they need is
to add a few more religious items. They had a few Bible verses on the wall and
a cross outside their front door, but adding a little more would at least
ground them a little in their spirituality.
Anyways… my Aunt is a
vegetarian who is allergic to gluten and Diane loves meat and cigarettes so
watching the two of them function as a couple despite those differences is
amusing to me. Then there was the shuffling of relatives inside the house on outside
on the porch. I heard some reallllly personal stories about Diane when she was
inside and some reallllly personal stories about Meredith. I won’t share the
stories here but it’s amazing how two siblings can grow up sharing similar
experiences but growing in completely opposite directions from those same
roots. It’s also amazing how much pain people can experience throughout their
lives and still find a way to rise above it –to the extent that you would not
believe that they had been through anything.
On Friday my Uncle Brad
arrived. He reminds me of Mitt Romney. Kind of analytical and tall and Boston-y
and conservative, and stoic yet animated. It’s an East Coast thing I guess. I
relate better to my uncle now than I did when I was younger. He was always
ruining Monopoly games by making us play by “the rules” that most people throw
out because nobody feels like keeping track of electric bills and dice rolling
taxes.
Saturday my Aunt Nancy,
who is the lively fireball of our family, arrived along with Ted –my cousin and
a Cancer turned Scorpio. I wanted to adopt Ted and bring him back to
California. He’s 4 years older than me which makes me sort of look up to him in
a subconscious kind of way, but he also amuses me with his dorkhood which makes
me feel more like an equal.
Diane had mentioned she
was nervous about Nancy and how supportive she would be of the wedding. It
confused me. Nancy has always been practical minded and accepting of others.
But then I remembered that at our grandmother’s funeral she had commented that
Carol probably shouldn’t have brought her transgendered friend because even
though grandma accepted Carol as a lesbian she “probably wouldn’t prefer to
have some of Carol’s friends show up at her funeral”. I think it may have been
Carol’s way of coping with the loss –showing up in her mother’s church with a
friend who wouldn’t make her feel as “out casted” from everyone else. I don’t
know.
I also thought it was
interesting how many people commented on the fact that my 57 year old Aunt was
getting married at “her age”. Since when is there an age limit on getting
married? Real love takes time.
So Saturday was spent
getting the wedding ready. The wedding was held on a little island called
“Padre’s Island”. The rooms were pretty easy to set up and the pavilion was
right on the beach so we got to walk out to the shore and see the ocean.
Memorable moments from
this trip include:
-Seeing all the fancy
mansions along the coast line
-Meeting Diane and
Carol’s friends
-Listening to Uncle
Brad mock and poke fun at the viewable stereotypes of Texas
-Images 1 and 2
-Visiting a Cracker
Barrel for the first time
-Snapping photos like
paparazzi at the wedding
The wedding itself went
smoothly. Carol was the first to start crying. Pretty much at the first gesture
of handing the bouquet to her bridesmaid. Diane followed next when she saw
Carol tearing up. Those were the most heart-felt vows I have ever heard. You
could physically feel the sentiments between them.
I heard later, after
the reception was over, that that was the first time my Uncle Brad had realized
we were making Diane a part of our family and she was making us a part of hers.
He had thought what they shared was between them and had nothing to do with him
and he was mostly just there for out of polite obligation. But the words spoken
during the reception had made him see how included and welcomed he was into
their new lives together and how much they wanted him and everyone else in our
family to be there.
The wedding officially
ended at 7:30pm after everything had been cleaned up. My dad, step-mom, Aunt
Nancy, sister Emily, Uncle brad, Cousin Ted, and I all piled into the car to
head back to the hotel. This is where the wonderful 3 days took a trip down
south.
My Aunt Carol doesn’t
drink alcohol so there was none at the wedding. I loved this fact since I share
the same sentiments as my aunt and I especially appreciated the Martinellis
Apple Cider I got to drink. It’s not often you get to go to a family event and
not feel pressured to drink wine, beer, champagne or whatever unfortunate
liquid the situation may call for. But as soon as we hit the car and started
driving off the first suggestion out of anyone’s mouth was to go to a bar and
officially “celebrate”. I think my soul rolled its eyes.
Then there was a
following 30 minutes of dialogue as to which bar to go to. Someone suggested
looking on Yelp.com for some suggestions. Yelp said the best bar was at the
hotel we were staying at… which beautifully summed up the atmosphere of the
other bar options that were out there. More bar names kept coming up and I
started to get feel really isolated and depressed. The depression grew over
those passing miles into a deep emotional pain that seemed to come from nowhere.
I felt alone.
I was just sitting in
the backseat staring out the window praying that we go to the hotel –either to
have the drinks be at that bar or let me off so I don’t have to be around it. I
should have spoken up. But I fell into a silence like nothing I said would
really matter to everyone. My relatives were busy making venue suggestions and
making fun of other events they had been to where people either hadn’t been
drinking or alcohol wasn’t allowed.
My 21 year old sister,
3 years younger than me, suggested we just buy some beers and taken them back
to the hotel. My Aunt Nancy was shocked my sister was that savvy about drinking
and found her suggestion entertaining. The thought of me sitting alone in my
hotel room while the rest of my relatives went out drinking was a bit much too
for my heart that night. Especially when you take into consideration all the
past events I had been drug along to where my mom drank it up and my siblings
were all having alcoholic beverages and I was the joke at the table staying
sober.
It was dark outside and
in. They finally decided on a bar that was a 15 minute walk from the hotel. I
felt the pressure behind my eyes and the stress inside my throat and made the
executive decision to ask my dad to drive me to the hotel while everyone was
getting a seat in the bar. I made up my mind that if he wouldn’t drive me I’d
walk to the hotel in the dark by myself. I was done with the night and couldn’t
take any more of it.
My relatives started
heading towards the bar and I pulled my dad aside and explained that I wanted
to go to the hotel. My step-mom immediately looked disapprovingly disappointed
in me. They had just designated my dad the designated driver and I was asking
him aside to get back in the car and drop me off. My step-mom gave a mini
speech about how I was being inconsiderate to dad and selfish. I just stood
there. I said I’d just walk then and she rolled her eyes at me. Dad said, “I’ll
drive you,” in a defeated voice and I made my way to the other side of the car.
He put the car in
reverse and started backing up. I broke down. I wouldn’t talk to him –I knew he
wouldn’t understand anyway. He was mostly silent. He asked me whether I was
tired or whether I was having “girl problems”. I didn’t respond. I felt
insulted and misunderstood. I felt alone. 5 minutes later he pulled up to the
hotel and started bailing out. He asked if I was alright and I nodded as I
turned to leave. My hotel room would have told him a different story.
I cried for a good 30
minutes –mostly in the shower which I took in a futile attempt to relax myself.
I felt like the only person who really knew me was God. I decided He was all I
needed. People are so disappointing. You think they know you well enough to
understand the things that can’t be said. I never cry. Not unless I’m in
serious physical pain or I’m having deep emotional pain over something serious.
I cry maybe 4 times a year. I also don’t tend to ditch out on family events.
Even if it’s out of a sense of social obligation, I’ll be there.
I resented my step-mom
(still do a little). We had finally gained a level of openness and respect for
each other and in one night it had all been compromised. I received a text from
her the next morning –no doubt after dad had told her I’d cried- saying, “Sorry
I was so harsh with you…” I never text back.
Later at the airport that Sunday night my sister asked me what had
happened. I filled her in on my end of things and she filled me in on hers.
Apparently my step-mom had flared her disappointments in me to my Aunt Nancy
and Emily at the bar. “I thought she was getting better… didn’t you think she
was getting better? She was so talkative during the wedding and so well
behaved. I expected more from her…”
I should probably
include a backstory to that. Here it is: Before Zoloft entered my life, my
social anxiety disorder would often get the best of me at social gatherings and
I would want to bow out early and avoid the spotlight at all costs. I wasn’t a
very social butterfly at that time. Even at family events.
It’s hard to forgive
someone when you know it’s going to be awkward and tense between you because of
how close you were and how much distance was gained when your trust was
betrayed. Oh well. All water must flow under the bridge one day to make its way
to the sea. It just made the flight back home a little more uncomfortable than
it would have been otherwise. It also made the last moments I spent sitting
close to my aunts and far from my parents that much greater.
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