Sometime last year, my biological father’s family had entered communications with my mother, and they all attempted the greatest conspiring session to produce the result of me ultimately reuniting with my father. It was one of the most difficult times of my life, because I was completely torn about what I needed to do, and what I wanted to do. I know this was especially hard for my mother, because she had the worst history with these people, and there was a lot of betrayal and hurt that pushed us to escape and live life on our own. The sudden responsibility had fallen upon my shoulders, however, that because these people were related to me, I was to serve them by developing relationships with them again, and go right back to interacting with my father.
I was like an enraged child, throwing the worst temper tantrum in history. I absolutely refused to talk to them, refused to even talk about HIM, and refused to go into any negotiations to meet or correspond with him. I was done with that family, just as they were with me when I was a child. I honestly had never felt such hatred, but everything I had mourned over in my abandonment issues resurfaced violently and I encountered every scratch and scar all over again. When I tried to reason with my mother that I could not force myself to be in relations with them because I’m still healing and I don’t need them in my life, she responded with “But… they’re your family. They’re blood.”
“Blood is thicker than water.”
To think that family relationships are stronger, more valuable than non-family relationships nearly makes me scoff. It’s unrealistic to me, and because I didn’t grow up with any family besides my mother for the majority of my childhood and adolescence, I don’t even know what it’s like to be a part of a large family, and to have cousins and aunts and uncles to be concerned about. I look at shows like the Sopranos or even Modern Family with a curious fascination, because the relationships portrayed seem so foreign to me. So for my mother to tell me that I need to reunite with my father for the sake of our matching blood, it’s appalling.
Then I got to start thinking about my friendships. It is very easy to cut a friend out of your life. As cruel as that sounds, as long as you cease communication and time spent together, it’s over. Whatever years you may have invested into it or whatever history you may have written together, the cold slammed door in your face is the last you’ll ever see of them. But with people who are related to you, you can’t really cut them off because you still have that tie, the blood bond. I know plenty of people who absolutely cannot stand people in their family, and the pain goes much deeper than the typical ‘crazy uncle.’ But they all seem to share one tiny thread of disdain because they have the obligation of having to care because they’re family. I was without that for my whole life, so I don’t see any problems with not having a single ounce of care for these people who spit out random memories to me and I have no recollection of it. They are complete strangers who keep trying to put on the outfit of family, but nothing seems to fit.
If the people related to me really are blood, then they are blood that has caked over my wounds and transformed into scabs. No matter how much I peel or may rip them off, fresh blood appears and forms new scabs. There’s no escaping it. But if my friends are water, they cool those wounds and I can stay immersed as they surround me with a serenity I wouldn’t find on land. They are my deep blue.
I think I’m mainly writing this not to share some sort of peppy resolution, but I’m still messed up about this. I mentioned a few posts ago that I’m still struggling with my biological father issues, and I honestly don’t know what to do. I know the encompassing bubble around this whole thing is that I should love him, and I don’t have to be best friends with him. The loving part is the most challenging though, and no matter how I’ve prayed about it, I can’t release my fingers around this container shut air-tight with all my hurts due to this one man. And the thing is, the tighter I hold onto it, the more the poison from within will seep through the walls and infiltrate my soul.
I know God wants to set me free from this disaster. He’s waiting for me. And to imagine what that freedom would be like, to have no baggage and chains wrapped around my feet when it comes to my fathers, it’s almost frightening. What is life really like without bitterness and hurt? Is it really possible as a human being?
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
I don’t freaking know.
But thank you for being there, for reading this, and for praying. Even as I pray for my friends who deal with incredible pain from their past, it’s comforting to know that we’re all in this together, striving for that same liberation which will change our lives completely. May that day come swiftly, but swiftly in God’s eyes when we’re ready to let it all go.