I used to have a big family. I remember the feeling of being surrounded by people and food and the kids in the corner and the coats stacked on the bed. I don’t know if anyone loved me but they knew me.
Today, I don’t have any family. They are gone. To me at least. That’s the hard part though – they’re all still out there. But I know what it feels like – to have family.
I was somebody’s cousin once.
Somebody’s Grand-daughter.
Someones’s niece.
Sometimes I fantasize about having it back again. Turning in the cycle breaker chip and putting my head in the sand. It seems to work for so many. But I know the pain and toxicity and lack of safety would not be worth the minimal amount of comfort I might glean from their presence.
Who makes me feel loved, connected, and unconditionally accepted? It’s probably not my family or origin. But I have it in my nuclear family, in my husband’s family, and in God.
To my fellow cycle breakers –
Keep on going. We see you.
B 🤍