A couple days ago I wrote about how there's no blueprint of what to do with the relatives, when your immediate family is screwed up. I wrote the email immediately after I posted that article. Somehow, writing that article helped me figure out how to write the email.
Yesterday, on the train ride home from work, I got the response. I cried--tears of both happiness and grief. I normally shy away from showing much emotion in public, but I didn't care that I had silent tears roll down my cheeks. I was able to reconnect with a relative. I found out that my relative doesn't give a fig about what my father might do. And I found out my nephew's name.
My therapist was right. I don't need to carry the weight of the world. I have no means of control over my father's behavior--and it's impossible to know what exactly he will do with him being disordered.
And because I trusted her insight, I emailed. And because I emailed and she emailed back, my family grew larger.
There's the family I was born into. And then there's the family that I make, with friends, acquaintances, blood and non-blood relatives. The latter is what I would call the "true" family. A family built on trust and love.
Someday, my family will grow when my husband and I are ready for children. And I hope and pray that someday my family will grow larger when my siblings grow up and are ready to reconnect with me. But for now, I have my friends and my current family.
Dang. I'm trying not to cry at work from happiness. That strange, sweet mix of happiness amid grief.