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I'm not one for talking about the softer emotions in my head. It isn't something that is unique to livejournal either. Even if i know you in person the chances are we haven't ever talked about any gooey emotions and if we have, it hasn't been frequent. It isn't that I don't have the same gooey emotions as others. I just grew up in such a fashion where I stopped expressing them. There are reasons for that but I will not go into them on an open forum because it isn't polite. The reason I'm bringing this to the forefront is because that what I want to do right now. The talking about gooey things.
Feel free to skip this post.
Family.
What does that word mean to you? I don't talk about family much anymore. Not here and not out loud. For those of you who don't know I belong/belonged to a group that was based around the idea that we were a family. I'm not going to get into the whys because that isn't relevant. I moved to Albany to be with them. We had big plans. We were all going to live together, get a house together. It would be great. Things, well... things didn't work out so great. They didn't work out so great for many reasons. We never did get that house together; I wonder if things would have ended differently if we had just moved in all together right from the start. There were problems. Lots of them. But there were also a lot of good times. I look back on that period as a (mostly) good time. I learned a whole lot about so many things. I grew up a whole lot also.
I can hear you asking "So what happened?" Well... one of the members of my family, the one who was kinda 'the head of household', well I want to say went bug nuts but that isn't exactly true or untrue, nor is it fair. Basically we got into a disagreement that could not be solved. So I told him to never contact me again and cut him from my life. It sounds so nice and clean, like I did it on a whim one afternoon. In truth it happened over the course of about a year and a half. “So,” you are asking, “where did that leave you in relation to the rest of your family.” Well it left me in a funny place. I still talk with some of them and some I do not (though not through my choosing). I still consider them family, even the one I no longer speak with. I'm not sure what they consider me. I try very hard to never talk about them with others for reasons relating back to some of the original problems.
All of that is just background so that you can understand where I am coming from. I do not use the word family lightly. I do not think of the concept with any sort of frivolity. For all of my jestering ways, I am a serious person. I just tend to hide it all inside and I am honestly amused by the world in general which doesn't help lend a serious persona. After the rather bad break I had with my Albany family I refused to use the word for anyone else. I was badly hurt by the entire episode. I felt, and still feel, that in many ways, for all people said I was important and what we had was important, I feel that I was just thrown away. Just a piece of junk not worth the effort to keep around.
It was with great deliberation that I moved down to the Salisbury Mills area where I live now. There were plans with Jenn and for schooling in Philly that got tossed to the wayside. Things got shifted and shoved. I was never supposed to move into this household. I was supposed to find my own place somewhere. But I came and they wanted to keep me here. So I stayed. At the core of all my worry about this move was this icy fear, an uncertainty born of my previous experiences. Was I dancing the same dance as Albany (and other places) all over again? Was I just setting myself up for another fall? A fall that was (and still is) potentially that much greater?
And the honest answer was (and still is) - I don't know.
I can't say that this little experiment which my friends (lovingly) mock me by calling the Commune is going to work out well. Even while typing this doubts crowd my mind. Old habits from the bad times growing up tell me not to let on how terribly important this place is to me because it can be used against me. Old self-esteem issues tell me that they couldn't possibly mean it when they say they want to keep me here, not for good, not forever. Issues which tell me I'm misconstruing everything, that I'm only expected to be here for the agreed upon 3 years and then leave. But to all my doubts and fears I say, it is worth it. If my fears are right, if my past experiences run true, then I am happy for the time I have had here. I will forever be looking to start something else just like this because this makes me happy.
This place, these people, our life here makes me happy. Maybe it will all fade away and turn to shit. Maybe I will have to move yet again. Maybe something random will happen and I'll leave. I can't tell the future; even if I could I think I'd still stay. I'm not saying my life here is perfect. There is no perfect in this world and we haven't even passed the first year mark. This place is new and we are still getting used to one another. The way this house is arranged is not average. We have a standard number of 11 people here. We have 5 cats, 3 snakes, 1 dog, and a varying number of ducks. No one has the same work schedule. There are variances in religion, money, education, house keeping... and yet, everything seems to gel.
We talk, we laugh, we joke, we fight, we have so much fun together. I cannot remember a day that I have not laughed, at least once, since I moved in. Yeah there has been stress. There have been disagreements. But I think that they have all been at normal levels. You can't live with other people and not have those things happen. I did not expect at age 25 to suddenly be what is effectively an additional parent to four children. I am not their mother, nor their aunt, or cousin, or godmother. I'm just some purple haired black chick who walked in off the street. Yet I love the kids. I want to do everything in my power to make sure they grow up healthy and happy with the best chance for success possible. Yet even as I write these words I'm terrified I've over stepped my bounds.
I'm sure, that after a while, I'll be more comfortable with my place here. I'm sure that things in this household will go as they need to go. The kinks will work themselves out. Things will settle into routine and we will come to rely on that stability. We all want this to work and it is amazing what willpower can accomplish. Over half of the adults have been or are married. They understand what it takes to make living with another person work. I don't expect this to be easy. I'd love if it was, but I don't expect nor desperately need it to be. And if in 3 years time I do leave, I think it will have been worth it because I love this place and I love these people. This move is probably the riskiest thing I've done in a very long time, maybe ever. Not financially or physically but emotionally.
So maybe I'm not related to anyone in my household by blood or by contract. Maybe I'm fooling myself and the others are not as emotionally invested in this as I am. Maybe I'll be disappointed again. Maybe I'll have to leave. But if I am and I do this place, these people, make me want to not care. They make me want to dig up that old word, the one I put away in a box buried away that no one could have anymore. They make me want to take out that old word and shine it up all pretty. Take it out and display it, burns, bruises, bumps and all. To look at it when I'm old and gray and be able to proudly say “Yeah you see that motley group over there. Yeah that's my family. We're an odd lot but damn do I love um. And damn was it worth it.”
Feel free to skip this post.
Family.
What does that word mean to you? I don't talk about family much anymore. Not here and not out loud. For those of you who don't know I belong/belonged to a group that was based around the idea that we were a family. I'm not going to get into the whys because that isn't relevant. I moved to Albany to be with them. We had big plans. We were all going to live together, get a house together. It would be great. Things, well... things didn't work out so great. They didn't work out so great for many reasons. We never did get that house together; I wonder if things would have ended differently if we had just moved in all together right from the start. There were problems. Lots of them. But there were also a lot of good times. I look back on that period as a (mostly) good time. I learned a whole lot about so many things. I grew up a whole lot also.
I can hear you asking "So what happened?" Well... one of the members of my family, the one who was kinda 'the head of household', well I want to say went bug nuts but that isn't exactly true or untrue, nor is it fair. Basically we got into a disagreement that could not be solved. So I told him to never contact me again and cut him from my life. It sounds so nice and clean, like I did it on a whim one afternoon. In truth it happened over the course of about a year and a half. “So,” you are asking, “where did that leave you in relation to the rest of your family.” Well it left me in a funny place. I still talk with some of them and some I do not (though not through my choosing). I still consider them family, even the one I no longer speak with. I'm not sure what they consider me. I try very hard to never talk about them with others for reasons relating back to some of the original problems.
All of that is just background so that you can understand where I am coming from. I do not use the word family lightly. I do not think of the concept with any sort of frivolity. For all of my jestering ways, I am a serious person. I just tend to hide it all inside and I am honestly amused by the world in general which doesn't help lend a serious persona. After the rather bad break I had with my Albany family I refused to use the word for anyone else. I was badly hurt by the entire episode. I felt, and still feel, that in many ways, for all people said I was important and what we had was important, I feel that I was just thrown away. Just a piece of junk not worth the effort to keep around.
It was with great deliberation that I moved down to the Salisbury Mills area where I live now. There were plans with Jenn and for schooling in Philly that got tossed to the wayside. Things got shifted and shoved. I was never supposed to move into this household. I was supposed to find my own place somewhere. But I came and they wanted to keep me here. So I stayed. At the core of all my worry about this move was this icy fear, an uncertainty born of my previous experiences. Was I dancing the same dance as Albany (and other places) all over again? Was I just setting myself up for another fall? A fall that was (and still is) potentially that much greater?
And the honest answer was (and still is) - I don't know.
I can't say that this little experiment which my friends (lovingly) mock me by calling the Commune is going to work out well. Even while typing this doubts crowd my mind. Old habits from the bad times growing up tell me not to let on how terribly important this place is to me because it can be used against me. Old self-esteem issues tell me that they couldn't possibly mean it when they say they want to keep me here, not for good, not forever. Issues which tell me I'm misconstruing everything, that I'm only expected to be here for the agreed upon 3 years and then leave. But to all my doubts and fears I say, it is worth it. If my fears are right, if my past experiences run true, then I am happy for the time I have had here. I will forever be looking to start something else just like this because this makes me happy.
This place, these people, our life here makes me happy. Maybe it will all fade away and turn to shit. Maybe I will have to move yet again. Maybe something random will happen and I'll leave. I can't tell the future; even if I could I think I'd still stay. I'm not saying my life here is perfect. There is no perfect in this world and we haven't even passed the first year mark. This place is new and we are still getting used to one another. The way this house is arranged is not average. We have a standard number of 11 people here. We have 5 cats, 3 snakes, 1 dog, and a varying number of ducks. No one has the same work schedule. There are variances in religion, money, education, house keeping... and yet, everything seems to gel.
We talk, we laugh, we joke, we fight, we have so much fun together. I cannot remember a day that I have not laughed, at least once, since I moved in. Yeah there has been stress. There have been disagreements. But I think that they have all been at normal levels. You can't live with other people and not have those things happen. I did not expect at age 25 to suddenly be what is effectively an additional parent to four children. I am not their mother, nor their aunt, or cousin, or godmother. I'm just some purple haired black chick who walked in off the street. Yet I love the kids. I want to do everything in my power to make sure they grow up healthy and happy with the best chance for success possible. Yet even as I write these words I'm terrified I've over stepped my bounds.
I'm sure, that after a while, I'll be more comfortable with my place here. I'm sure that things in this household will go as they need to go. The kinks will work themselves out. Things will settle into routine and we will come to rely on that stability. We all want this to work and it is amazing what willpower can accomplish. Over half of the adults have been or are married. They understand what it takes to make living with another person work. I don't expect this to be easy. I'd love if it was, but I don't expect nor desperately need it to be. And if in 3 years time I do leave, I think it will have been worth it because I love this place and I love these people. This move is probably the riskiest thing I've done in a very long time, maybe ever. Not financially or physically but emotionally.
So maybe I'm not related to anyone in my household by blood or by contract. Maybe I'm fooling myself and the others are not as emotionally invested in this as I am. Maybe I'll be disappointed again. Maybe I'll have to leave. But if I am and I do this place, these people, make me want to not care. They make me want to dig up that old word, the one I put away in a box buried away that no one could have anymore. They make me want to take out that old word and shine it up all pretty. Take it out and display it, burns, bruises, bumps and all. To look at it when I'm old and gray and be able to proudly say “Yeah you see that motley group over there. Yeah that's my family. We're an odd lot but damn do I love um. And damn was it worth it.”
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