Family vacations exacerbate and amplify family problems. Our vacation, though only in its second day, is no exception. A raging no exceptionless experience. I am hating my family. I should not be using this blog for such personal pointless rage. I try to be professional. But I’m hurting so very much, and I have nobody to tell this to. I’m being beat up emotionally and being screamed at and having years of blame thrown upon me, in the backdrop of a tropical paradise. It would have been more restful to stay home. Alone. Everyone hurts. So much. In my family everyone is a raging screaming pustule of hurt. And we like to take it all out on each other. At least I used to be that way. I think I’ll just stay silent from now on. Grin and bear it. Everyone needs a tactic. I hate being yelled at, so I won’t yell anymore. There is a reason we move away and separate when we grow up. Our borders are so overlapped, our identities so enmeshed, in my family, that we take each 0thers’ failures and successes as our own. It is scary to be severed so completely from people. However, it’s sometimes very necessary. Liberating, yet frightening. Perhaps it wouldn’t be liberty if it wasn’t so. One person may attribute all of the pain and suffering to me and my actions as far back as when I was a small child. It’s irrational, yes, but I don’t have to wear that jacket, accept that backpack of burden. I will not yell anymore during this vacation. They will think I’m playing the victim and they will think I’m trying to annoy them. I would rather lash out silently than spew vitriolic language at the people who love me. There is a time to take responsibility for oneself. There is a time when having had a crappy childhood cannot be an excuse to current problems. I cannot change them. I can only change myself. I will not hurt them anymore with language. Let them throw what they will at me.
Hopefully rum tastings at an international-award-winning distillery and kayaking in the jungle streams and organic farmers’ market food will make up for some of this hurt. It’s what we all usually do, isn’t it. Stuff ourselves and get drunk. Under blue skies, lush swaying green canopies, and the finest misted rain that ever touched human skin.
Update: world-class rum was a brilliant start to the day’s outing. Score one for alcohol. And the locally brewed beer and margarita at dinner certainly helped, too (as did the fish tacos). Score two for alcohol, one for food. Yup. Mmmm.