I've always believed that there is more than one definition of family. There is the family that you are born with - your mom, dad, brothers and sisters - and another one that you make. It can be friends or best friends that you can't imagine your life without, your in-laws, and sometimes cousins or other distant relatives that slowly become closer to you than the family you were born with.
My "family" has had different faces along the way. I lived with my mom and spent time with my maternal grandparents, had a sister that I spent pretty much every waking moment with. I also had my dad's family, with his wife, a brother, a sister, and a step-sister. I was closer to my "sister" there than my brother or my step-sister because we were only two years apart. My brother was four years older than me, and so often, was spending his time with his friends than at home with his irritating sisters. My step-sister got pregnant when she was still in highschool, so life was VERY different for her than it was for me.
Each of these families taught me skills that I have used in my own life with my own kids. When I got to adulthood, and got a job, and a place and had things like daycare bills to pay, I learned pretty quickly to be responsible for myself. I had to learn how to make and stick to a budget, how to make and keep payment arrangements for when my bills got behind, and some of these skills you don't learn sitting around the dinner table with your family.
I made a huge move when I was younger, moving an entire province away from my maternal family. The furthest I had been with them was when I went to college in Mission, but even then, I spent my Christmas holidays and summer holidays at home with my grandma and my sister. But when I moved provinces, I was really and suddenly alone. I spent my days with my soon-to-be husband and my son, and we created our own family.
We moved again and moved closer to my husband's family, and my family life changed again. I went from a very open and extended family to a very tight knit, small family. I had to learn how to relate to this family and how they liked to be spoken to. I had to learn how to do their family dinners and get togethers, as they were a bit different than what mine at home had been. I missed having a mom, and sometimes, seeing my sister-in-law and my mother-in-law together made me feel a bit of jealousy. My family was gone, and I was transitioning from really needing or having my mom around all the time (even when we fought) to not having one at all.
Slowly, over time, I learned my place in this family, but still struggle from time to time when I want to have my own "mommy" around. There are times I still want to have that person to talk to, or have at the kids' events, but I've learned that for my kids, they want their mommy - and that person is me! I still get frustrated and irritated, but for the most part, I know that when my kids look back on their life, they will always remember seeing me there, and that is more important than anything.
But now I feel like I'm faced with a conundrum. My kids are getting older, and I want to go "home". Just once. I want them to see and remember the place where I grew up, and to see what places were important to me. I want to take my mom with me so that my kids are able to hear her stories, and keep them safe. I know she won't be here forever, and I'm struggling with what to do.
When my mom was sick, we suffered a huge divide. She went through a really tough time, and she lashed out against me. As much as I tried to hide my own emotions, I just couldn't. I felt things should have been handled a certain way, and she felt that her way was also right. I can see now how badly our emotions jaded our opinions, but at the time, once you are challenged and take a stand, it's pretty hard to turn around.
So for a good while, I really walked on my own. I couldn't risk getting sucked in to the swirling eddies of my mom's emotions, but each day I spent away from her, the further apart we became. I had a full plate with a husband dealing with his own alcohol addiction, and facing my own alcohol addiction, and raising three kids. THere comes a time that you have to pick which part of the plate you are going to work on, and the rest of it goes to the way side.
My pride kept me from admitting some of my issues to my maternal family, but in reality, they were faced with a similar thing. My mom's issues needed attention to, and for them, that was what they needed to deal with, and could not help me with mine. So we stayed on opposite paths.
But now, I feel like our paths are converging in the woods. I know my mom isn't going to be here forever and families are dynamic things. Aspects of it can change over time. I'm scared because I have guilt over my past issues with my mom and how her family views me, but I can't punish my kids because of these things they don't know about.
I detest the idea of asking for forgiveness because in a sense, I don't feel what I did was wrong. I did the best with what I had, and though it wasn't perfect, it was what I had to do to survive. Just the thought of it makes my hands curl up and get sweaty. And it's probably my own pride because I would want them to ask the same thing of me because I don't think they were right either.
Sigh.
I just hope that over the next few weeks or months I can find some happy medium in here. I don't want my maternal family to pass away with my mom, and there are things that I want us to do together. When you are a kid, you always imagine going on holidays with your parents or sharing stories of the things you guys did when you were little. There is still time, I just don't know how much.
Things are changing, I just don't know where the change is going to take me.
