When my parents kicked me out of the house at seventeen, I began to feel as though "family" wasn't really what they said, and that the only person I could count on was myself. In college, holidays were reserved for obligatory family time and watching everyone gather with their parents made me feel as though something was missing. Over time, I began to develop a better relationship with my parents - which proved easier when we lived in different states.
My sister and I found ourselves residing in the same city in 2008. Though we had always been close to each other growing up, being out on our own taught me tremendous lessons about what family meant and how important she was to me. I realized that, though I had previously thought I could only count on "me", I could actually count on her too. We solidified an unbreakable bond.
Then, in the fall of 2010, my parents separated and it rocked the foundation of my world. It turned out "family" wasn't forever, it wasn't permanent, and sometimes, it was another word for those who were the most hurtful people around you. Angry and resentful due to what felt like a final betrayal, I ran away to Thailand where family couldn't surround me with drama and darkness. I swore off family and focused on sunsets.
In Thailand, I found that "family" wasn't your mom and dad. As an expat, no one had cousins or grandparents to spend holidays with - it was like we were all orphans. On our little island, family was what you created. Family was comprised of Thais, English teachers, and the expat friends who gathered for celebrations, holidays, and for nightly "family dinners". This collection of folks became as tight nit and meaningful to me as anyone who I shared a name with. I grew to depend on that makeshift family, those who made Thailand home for me, and my heart swelled with love for each member of my new family.
Leaving Asia was scary. Returning to America, I was afraid of dealing with...well, anything family related, but I had spent enough time on an island to get my wits about me and practice my brave face. So, when I came back to America for the final showdown of my parents divorce and my dad's addiction, though unprepared for the magnitude of hurt that everyone in my little family was feeling, I did my best to take on the battles and weather the storm.
Through the course of that journey, I felt estranged from my family. It wasn't that anyone had left me, made me feel abandoned, or turned their back on me, however, I didn't know how I fit into the equation when I had reentered a world where people chose sides. Unsure of what level of emotional stress I could tolerate from my parents, let alone the rest of my kin, I chose isolation. It did make me feel lonely when I looked around and wondered who I had in my life besides myself and my sister, but I had sworn off family and this seemed to be my decided fate. Lonely. Family-less. So be it. I was struggling - struggling to feel love and failing to see the connection I had with people who had known me my whole life. From what I had learned, love wasn't guaranteed. It had to be earned. It had to be proved. It had to be deserved. Not knowing what everyone knew or what they felt about me and my steps taken to find solace in a tumultuous situation, I avoided, or rather, failed to prioritize confronting these unanswered questions in a cowardice attempt at self preservation.
Last night, I went to a family reunion and it was the first time that I participated in anything to do with my family in a long time. In my absence, babies were born, children had grown, and hardships had written themselves across brave faces during the passing of time. I was reconnected with members of my family who I hadn't seen in years, introduced to new members of my family, and embraced by those who recognized the extent of my absence, but loved me regardless. Being a "born again family member", I did feel a struggle to know where I fit, but it was unbelievably comforting to find people who made quick sarcastic comments, laughed about the shenanigans of our familial weirdness, and looked a lot like me - ready to accept me as one of their own. Hah! It was strange, but the hint of isolation that I felt last night only further motivated me to want to make an effort with my family to mend the bridges and lines of communication that have been neglected. Feeling that distance made me long for the feeling of inclusion, but in the same sense made me grateful to know the magnitude of their love and the meaning of family.
Family is important to me. Whether it is the family I get to choose or the family that I was born into, I believe in family. Holding my sister's hand at dinner, I reiterated a message I haven't heard in years...but a message I'm starting to believe again - "we are family no matter what. Family is family...and family is everything."
...and the word evolves once more.
