In a parenting book, I read that it’s important to be patient with children as they’re having meltdowns because they have very big emotions inside of their very little bodies so of course, it’s going to look like a bit of a mess as they bubble to the surface. Sometimes my emotions feel too big for my body and like it’s going to be a mess when they come out. I can’t help but wonder if that’s what led to me turning to over-eating as a means of coping. Maybe, just maybe, if my body becomes big enough people will understand just how much is going on inside of here. There are other times I’ve found myself pulling whatever I put in right back out as if forcing things out of my body will force the emotions out with it. Piece of advice – it doesn’t work. Don’t bother trying. Sometimes we can listen to other people’s experiences and learn from them. We don’t always have to jump to try everything ourselves. I use the term “we” loosely because I learn the hard way but I’m inclined to share the experiences in case you would rather take a more simple approach.
Unwanted
Crossing the threshold into my parents’ home seemed foreign to me. It had been a year, at least, and the knotting in my belly felt the same as it does when I’m walking into someplace new. Uncertainty. I hadn’t met some of the family yet because the year they grew close was the same year I fell distant, so that’s what brought me over. Cousins and an aunt from out of state? Sure, I had just reimmersed myself into my parents’ lives but why not throw some new faces into the mix. Uncertainty. Discomfort. Performance anxiety.
I was fortunate enough to catch my brother lighting a joint on my way into the house, though. It’s a bit ironic the way that getting high can help me keep my feet on the ground. It’s almost like my body stays here and remembers how to go through the motions while my mind wanders off, unworried about micromanaging my body’s humanness. “Are you going to the party today?” Family party. I don’t think I’m welcome. I was born here, raised here, loved here. I feel less family. Why.
“Ah, nah I don’t think so. I wasn’t really invited to it so I’m not going to just show up”, my mind is back to micromanaging, I catch my voice shaking. Uncertainty.
Across the threshold, I beeline through the house, passing all of the unfamiliar faces until I find my mother. How awkward do you think that looked? I wonder if there was ever a point where I wasn’t latching to her for comfort amongst the chaos. When I find her in the kitchen, she offers me food – a loving gesture. I accept, trying not to think about how I wasn’t planning on eating because I want the love. Again, one of the things being high lets me not overthink so much.
I get introduced to unfamiliar faces and I feel awkward, out of place. I feel tense. “So are you going to the party later”, says the unfamiliar aunt.
Uncertainty. Why does everyone keep asking me this? Don’t they know? “Oh, uhh.. umm I don’t think so. I didn’t really know about it.” stuttering, stammering, tripping over words. This is so uncomfortable.
“Oh,” cue the unusually long pause, “well if you end up going, it’ll be good to see you there. Nice meeting you.” Awkward hugs. I’m not usually a hugger but I adapt. I think I’ve made things weird enough already, refusing hugs seems like I’d be pushing it.
The next time someone asks if I’m going to the party, it’s my dad and I burst into tears. Uncertainty. How do I tell them that I don’t know that people want me around because we’re all pretending like the last year just never happened? How do I say that when I wasn’t even invited to holiday dinners last year, I’m not going to assume I can just start going to parties because we’ve said a few words to each other again. How do I say that we need to talk because if I don’t, talking will be screaming?
I blamed it on self-doubt and lack of sleep, openly. Sometimes, with some people, I want to hide that they’ve hurt me. If I’m ever going to prevent these unplanned outbursts, the hiding needs to stop.
Much love, until next time.
Madeline May I... 