I’ve been having a bit of a “family hangover” since I was around them all over the holiday. The more I settle into myself and become stronger in who I am, the more it seems that I was born into the wrong brood.
I sure love my little people, though their parents (and grandparents) can drive me nuts. Everyone gets along and is very nice to everyone else, meanwhile, I’m thinking “How the hell did I end up like this after growing up with all of them?”
I love them all (well, maybe not my brother-in-law) but after getting back to my house I noticed that I felt more alone after being with my family and having a few more of my illusions about them stripped away. Today I am likening this feeling to the way I felt with Mr. X when it all fell apart—when I lost who I thought he was and came face to face with who he is.
A lot of it is religion and politics, but it’s more than that. It’s a way of seeing the world. It’s an approach to life in general. It’s fear vs. curiosity, black and white vs. every color imaginable. So much is labeled “forbidden” for them, so much is wrong.
In spite of all this, my Alexander teacher told me I’m looking better each time she sees me. She said my back seems stronger, that I am taller. In this spirit of not fearing, not forbidding, I am working on engaging with the world with my body, with my posture and movement. More about that soon.