Space, A Peaceful Frontier

As I recover from surgery, I am finding myself with a lot of time to sit and blog.

My husband just has to be the voice of reason and forbids me to pick up the baby carrier and stroller and baby all at once. Harrumph so what if its been less than a week since surgery? I feel fine!

Who cares what the doctors say, right? Haha…blogging it is.

During my hellish stay in the hospital where it was one disappointment after another, including a family wide cold and an utterly miserable hungry baby, I had some realization time. I wouldn’t characterize it as “thinking time” since most of the time I was only actively thinking about throwing my iv out the window and getting out of my hospital cell…room. It was definitely a realization time.

My husband, ever the unicorn, mentioned calling my parents so someone could bring us some supplies. Why not his family I’m not entirely sure why. They live closer to the hospital. However that is not important. What’s important is that at the mere mention of my parents barging in I went into a panic attack.

Erratic breathing, tears, hopelessness, an urge to escape…everything just flipped a lid inside of me at the thought of them coming in, because I already knew what they were going to do. There would be a guilt trip for not mentioning the surgery,my baby would be “taken care of” out of my sight, I would be made responsible to care for my mother and her feelings, it would all be a disaster. I’d be vulnerable with monsters.

Thankfully my husband didn’t make that call. I’ve been on a time out from them for a few weeks, almost 2 months.
I thought it would be enough but clearly they are still in my head. I dwell on the call and two texts sent by my mom. She’s trying to lure me with stuff and claims not to know why I am not accepting her calls.

She knows why, unless my Dad said absolutely nothing which given his history is unlikely. She still doesn’t understand that stuff means nothing to me.

Right now, I just want to be surrounded by love. No judgement, no false sense of responsibility and guilt, no boundary stomping, no passive aggressive remarks.

So the result of my time out is the realization that I need more time out. At this point, I need to confront them my selves, and then just not contact them for a while. However long I need before I can figure out what normal is, and if I feel normal enough.

This is going to be rough on my husband. He grew up with a huge extended family that all seem to get along for the most part. His culture places a high value on family loyalty, especially to one’s parents. It’s one of the reasons I love my husband.

He told me that its going to seem odd not seeing them for Christmas, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Easter. “Perhaps,” I replied “but now we can make our own family traditions. I’m excited by that, and now we can have a breather from all the unpleasant parts.”

I’m not looking forward to the chat I will have with both of my parents. I am bringing my husband, not because this truly involves him but because I am afraid of being physically attacked. I am already planning logistics- where to park so that I can’t be blocked from the road, who will babysit, to make sure my battery is charged on my phone, an on and on.

I am looking forward to avoiding gossip, digs at my style of clothing or hair, subtle racism against my husband, passive aggressive put downs about every conceivable subject, or attempts to save me from Catholicism. I’m also looking forward to missing the aunt who sexually harasses my husband, the aunt who offers her supposedly professional therapy services, the uncle who thinks my husband is a thief based solely on the fact that he’s got skin color, another uncle who’s been in jail because the mental hospital has no room, another aunt that is certifiably crazier than my mother, and so many more others.

Most of all, I’m looking forward to making new friends and getting to know my in-laws better, to bringing myself closer to God and my husband.

I want to start some new traditions. What about haunted corn mazes? What about finding a parish where we can do a posada instead of hiding our insecurities with a mountain of expensive junk?Why not elotes on thanksgiving with a smaller turkey and some good wine?

I’m breaking off from my past to draw closer to something newer and better. And when I finally feel secure, then I will see if a relationship with my parents is feasible.



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