Why Does it Hurt?

Last Thursday I went to pick up my belongings from my parents' house. They taped newspapers up in the windows so I could not see into the house. They also made sure they were gone when I showed up.

Goodbye?

Being kicked out of a family, especially one as unpleasant as the one I was born into, isn't as easy as I imagined it would be. I used to say to my partner that I would be fine never seeing or hearing from my family again. But all of a sudden when my mother started saying to me, "Fuck off" for wanting her to seek counseling, my world crashed.

Did it hurt because I wasn't given the ability to disown them? Because my own mother, the one who was supposed to be on my side during the huge battles my father forced us to deal with, was now supporting my shitty, abusive, life-sucking, good-for-nothing father? Or could it be possible that I might have some feelings for my mom, and maybe even that piece of shit father I was given?

I really don't like the thought of liking these people. They neglected me, took part in watching me suffer, and now they refuse to acknowledge any such abuse. Even worse, they absolutely refuse to make our relationship better. Trust me, I've tried. Oh God, I've tried.

Why on earth would I possibly have any feelings for them?

It's not like I'm losing the perfect family or even any good memories. When I lived with them, I would spend my days floating about the house, writing emo poetry and journal entries about how I wish I could feel emotion, enjoy food, and stop hating myself so much. Maybe I'm stuck on some idealized imaginary family that I always wanted to have. My parents have this image too, as I think I've gotten it from them. They'd share these wonderful made-up stories about our family with other people, including our extended family members, that clearly said to me: our family isn't what it should be.

I think I'm digressing. I'm not stuck on an idealized image of my family because I always knew it was fake. I think what I might be trying to get at is that through the expression of a better family we all began to notice that we at least had the same desire for a happy family. Somewhere in their thick skulls, my parents acknowledged publicly without even noticing it, that they do have the imagination for a better family. The problem is, their fantastic family created for story-time with 5-minute acquaintances has seemed to become their reality.

Of course, they had their own abuse to deal with. And because they didn't fully recover, I had to suffer too. However, living my days with the passion to heal is what separated me from them. Once I expressed that my love has standards, they dropped out of my life like flies. Sure, I may be in pain because the slightest tinge of affection might be lingering in my heart somewhere for my parents. I may even pity them for their inability to gain perspective. But I'm mourning. I mourn for the death of any hope they once had that life could be better than what they have.

My mother tells me that life with my father now is so much better than it ever was. And all I want her to hear, to know is that LIFE CAN BE SO MUCH BETTER!