Monday, September 17, 2012

Texas Trip


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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