I visited my grandmother tonight. My father's mother, who is not my grandmother, but is. I wanted to talk to her about searching for my family, but the same thing that stopped me telling my dad that I knew he wasn't my biological dad stopped me from mentioning anything to her.
I just wasn't sure if she wouldn't see it as an insult.
It wouldn't be an insult, of course, but it could easily be misconstrued as such. I know that my grandmother knows that she is not my grandmother, even though she is. I can't spend 34 years with her and her not feel something for me. I wonder if, since I've pulled away from her and my family (my fault, not there's - other than the vague feeling I've always, that I don't belong with them, even before my knowledge was complete), she believes that I've discovered the truth and she has begun the process of anticipating my rejection.
I've always felt a lot different from my family. I wonder if it was noticeable even then. Yes, I get picked on by my white husband that I enjoy more things from Stuff White People Like than he does, what with me not being white and all, but stick that in the ghetto and you get someone not only different from their family, but also from the community they were brought up in. That must come from somewhere. I've never let myself wonder where because what if I didn't find out the answers? What if I asked the questions and never got the answers? The questions (maybe even the answers) would be floating in the nether forever. It's been nearly 10 years since the death of my bio-dad. I've never seen a picture. I've been forced to subtract my mother's features from my face (and I am very like my mother) and try to put a face to the remaining features. What if I get unanswerable questions? What then?
I'm just gonna stop promising you things. You really do hold me accountable when I don't complete them.
2 comments:
Hmmm. I thought there was another option around here. Wait, I think I found it! You could complete them. I don't care if you break a promise to me, especially if it involves writing and not freeing me from my ropes before the train arrives. What bothers me is that you make a commitment to yourself. I think one of two things is happening. First, you could be so afraid to fail, that you don't want to put the effort in, because not trying is not failing. Second, you could be so accustomed to identifying yourself as a writer that even though you lose interest, that is to say you don't really want to be that, admitting that you aren't a writer would be like having no name, no identity.
Here is my challenge to you. Find a third option, and argue it so well that the ones who care most believe you. If you can identify it, perhaps you can overcome it. Right now it feels like you are toiling and obsessing about getting over that mountain on the horizon, and thus less aware of the desert that is threatening to consume you whole.
I love you!
Rant Complete.
I just realized that I only responded to the last two sentences. That is not to detract from the rest of the post, but you have a lot on your plate now, and I think that whatever discipline is needed will address more than one of these other topics.
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