Tag: personal relationships

Do people really have healthy normal families, or is that just another Hollywood lie?

I ask because I have been to Northern California twice in the last week, and there has been family drama each time.

The first time I visited my grandfather. The trip I just got back from was to attend my grandmother’s funeral.

It feels so weird and wrong to say that. She wasn’t my grandmother. I mean, she was the woman who was genetically and legally my grandmother. She was the mother of the man who is genetically and legally my father.

But she wasn’t my grandmother. I didn’t know her. I’ve heard many stories of her and have met her a few times.

My cousins and younger siblings have fond memories of her, and I have nothing. She never baked me cookies or read me stories. She never attended a violin recital or a school play. She chose not to know me.

The family thought I’d want to engage in the ceremony because I was the one who didn’t get to see her as often. They thought wrong. I couldn’t refuse. But I felt like a liar—an outsider looking in.

I’m glad it was a preassigned reading. I’m glad I didn’t have to say anything because it wouldn’t be as genuine as others. I don’t think standing up there only to say she was a lovely woman would have tasted right in my mouth.

As terrible as it is to say I didn’t go to mourn her. I went to support my grandfather. He needed all the support he could get. They may have been divorced for over 30 years, but they were friends in their way. My grandparents would have been companions if she was never sick with dementia. Never remarried, but they would have lived together and traveled together.

I went to play peacekeeper. I promised my grandfather I would help to the best of my ability that no arguments would happen. But there was still drama, mainly from my aunt. I tried to excuse her behavior and say it was because she was pregnant and grieving her mother. It turns out she’s just a bitch. Who causes a scene at their mother’s funeral?

I did learn the best way to deal with the adults of my family is to stay high or drunk. I say the adults, but I mean my dad and his siblings. It’s also better to deal with them as individuals instead of having the five of them together.

I did get reacquainted with my cousins, who are all around my age. My uncles and aunt may all be pieces of work, but their children are amazing. These women are the support system I never had. I genuinely didn’t know how to react to their support and positivity.

I never knew my father’s side to be loving except my grandfather and an aunt through marriage.

The summer is flying by! I can’t believe August is almost over! Summer always feels like it’s over before it even starts. It seems weird to even suggest that summer is nearly gone this year because I feel like I haven’t been able to really relish it yet with any lazy days.

This week I finally had a few days off and was able to relax and forget about life. Which sounds terrible, but I needed a break from my life. Lately, my job has been stressful, and so has my relationship.

After all this time, I still have so many doubts. I keep stressing over the what-ifs.

What if I’m forcing my relationship?

What if I still can’t recognize unhealthy behavior?

What if I’m not what he wants?

Except for my what-ifs aren’t unwarranted.

I’m overthinking and expecting the worst. When we first started dating, I assumed Hector was too nice and too good for me. I know there was a time when I was scared, pushed him away, and self-sabotaged my relationship before it started. Thinking he was better off dating someone nice, not someone jaded and bitter like me. Thinking I was too damaged to date.

Now things are different. I think I’m trying my best to be a great girlfriend. At times it feels like I’m still failing at this whole dating thing. I’m patient with him on some things since this has been his longest relationship. And he’s patient with me. I’m hoping we can understand each other better. Nowadays, people don’t seem to let each other close to having a more in-depth conversation.

And this has me thinking maybe this is all wrong. Perhaps I’m forcing us to move too fast. We don’t have in-depth conversations anymore. We see each other a lot, and we talk a lot. It’s a lot happening, but it feels kinda fake.

I’m starting to think we need to slow everything down. I feel like I forgot to ask essential questions because when we see each other every day, there isn’t time to think about what’s happening.

I know I keep saying that we see each other, but it’s not quality time. It’s him picking me up from work or driving me wherever. It is tiring being around each other, or at least that’s how he feels. And he has a right to feel that way.

He doesn’t ask for much, and I know I do. I’m a high-maintenance person who acts like they aren’t high-maintenance. I’m trying not to ask him to spend so much time with me. I started to accept spending time together when he would pick me up from work. Yet that became a problem because he doesn’t like driving me around. So I’m trying not to ask for as many rides. We stopped face timing, and I try only to call when it’s a necessity.

Because I work so much, all I want when I’m not at work is to sleep and spend time with him. I guess my actions don’t translate to, “I miss you, I love you, and I want actual time with you.” Instead, it comes off as a “needy girlfriend with separation anxiety.” He didn’t say it exactly, but he definitely hinted at that. He asked me what my hobbies are other than spending time with him.

Lately, there’s been a noticeable distance between us. He’s stressed from his life, and I’m stressed from mine. Relationship problems are the last thing we need. But we have them, and now I don’t know how to navigate the relationship.

I can’t suddenly ask for quality time. We’ve had a few dates, but if we were together for an extended time, it’s mostly been us and a friend or a group setting. I’ve tried to plan dates and vacations, and he shuts me down before I can’t even get my hopes up.

I tried to talk to him, but I can’t tell him how I really feel. It feels like he doesn’t want to spend time with me alone. I think I should stop trying to spend time alone because he either doesn’t want to or doesn’t realize how far apart we’ve grown.

Due to all this stress, I’m under my anxiety, and my depression is awful right now. Each day I feel less and less mentally stable for a relationship.

How do I explain to him that I’m angry that I wake up some days because I’d rather die than keep living this way? Sometimes I feel alone. I feel like a secondary character. I think that my consciousness only appears when something that needs immediate attention. That sounds stupid, I know. But sometimes, I feel unconscious in my life. I don’t mean that in some type of ‘woke’ way. I feel as if I’m not present at the moment. Sometimes my emotions and my thoughts distract me from enjoying my life. It feels like I overthink so much I can’t stop focusing and concentrate. I am thinking about the past or the future, or something other than what I’m doing.

How do I explain I’m going back into myself? That I’m tearing myself apart, and yet I’m no longer building myself back up. It’s like I’m chipping away who I am and just leaving behind an empty shell.

It’s a time like this; I don’t feel I have the right to be a part of someone else’s life. I don’t think I’m mentally ready for a relationship. It’s almost lying to him by trying to be positive and what I think he wants. I neglect myself. I haven’t been writing or talking to my friends, and all I do is go to work and use my boy as emotional support. I have nothing going on for myself and use him as a distraction.

Sometimes I think he has to know I’m not doing all that well, considering how much weight I’ve gained and how disorganized my room has become.

But other times, when he says things like the reason we don’t live together yet, I’m a slob and lazy, and just wants to keep things separate when he asked me why I don’t have hobbies or do anything with my time. I don’t know if it is to hurt me or if he genuinely doesn’t know what he’s saying.

I’m trying to better myself, but it’s so hard getting out of bed. I’m going to start back writing on my blog and working out again, and forcing myself to be better. Because I want to be what he wants. I want him to want me.

But I know I’m wanting after something I’m not going to get. I’m wasting my time. He doesn’t want to move in with me; he doesn’t want to marry me- he’s told me these things. I just wish he could be upfront with more things. So I could really know where I stand in his life.

But he doesn’t know what he wants, and I’m stuck here being the Manic Pixie Dream Girl. An MPDG has one job; she gives new meaning to the male hero’s life!

And I just so happen to fit the description to the fucking tee. A woman who is energetic, high on life, full of wacky quirks and idiosyncrasies (generally including childlike playfulness), often with a touch of wild hair dye.

I can’t even blame him; I did this to myself. I just wasn’t ready for the consequences. The problem with being a Manic Pixie Dream Girl is being too dream girl. I’m not needed when he wakes up. The movie ends when he’s a better person, and so does the dream girl; there’s no need for her anymore.

I don’t want to fight for someone who doesn’t fight for me. I don’t need an almost relationship.

I deserve it all or nothing at all. And I guess that I experienced the latter.

My bad relationship with men all started with my bad relationship with my father, or for lack of better words my biological father. Patrick may be my father, but Efrain is my dad. 

I’ve refused talking about my relationships with my dads because I refused to admit I had daddy issues. I felt that if I admitted to having a complex with my dad, it would insult my mom and my stepfather.

My parents got a divorce before I can even remember. Unlike other kids, I have no memories of my parents being together, for which I’m very thankful. The divorce never affected my family dynamic or caused a lot of feelings of loss in my life.

 I’ll admit that my relationship with my biological father has always been strained. I don’t remember living with him, and my memories of weekend visits throughout my early childhood are vague. He loved me, I’m sure, but he eventually slipped off the radar. He wasn’t abusive or a massive jerk or anything. He just wasn’t there. 

Because Efrain had a daughter of his own that he couldn’t be around, he understood how important a relationship between a girl and her dad is. He didn’t want to take over the role of father in my life or take over my relationship with the term dad. Efrain didn’t want to betray my biological father, step on any toes, or cross any boundaries. Until he realized Patrick didn’t want to be there.  

I didn’t realize how much it hurt Efrain to step aside and watched me call another man daddy. He listened to me talk about all the things Patrick promised me-promises he never delivered. Toys my mom and dad would go buy in the middle of the night when I was asleep. Trips to Disneyland my parents took me on, saying that Patrick was the one who paid for it. My dad held me as I cried when I was thirteen when I met Patrick’s other family for the first time. 

Thirteen was the first time I felt loss and anger for something I never had. That was the year he switched from dad to Patrick in my head. It wasn’t until I was fifteen Patrick started to make an effort to be in my life. That was the first time Patrick came to my birthday party. I stopped having birthday parties after that. 

I’ve never told Patrick that I’m angry with him. If I’m honest I was for a while resentful even about him, his wife, his kids. How he found a new family. I lived with them when I was nineteen, and I was a stranger living in their house—some outsider who clearly didn’t belong there. It was like he traded me in for something he thought was better. It was like he was embarrassed by me. For the first time, I wanted to know what I did wrong to not be loved by him. Living in the house, I saw how proud he was to be their dad and I felt jealous because he never had the time to be my dad.

Also, I get that Patrick was a teenager when I was born, but so was my mom. My mom was a baby raising a baby, and Patrick didn’t step up even when he got to his 30s. It just seems unfair. I think it can all be boiled down to Patrick not having the maturity, parenting skills, and emotional intelligence to try to stay present in my life. I’m sure he wanted to but didn’t know how, probably not knowing where he fit and didn’t care that much to learn. He probably didn’t even know where to begin being more active in my life than he was at that point.

Now I’m an adult, and our relationship is complicated. We don’t know how to communicate with each other. 

The worst part about me never telling how I feel is he still thinks that his words and actions have no effect on me, but they do.