The thing about family is that mine is
A bit strange and toxic, and
For the longest time I avoided them entirely
As much as I possibly could
And I went out and I met
People much more toxic than I thought
Could ever exist. Then I realized
Toxicity is really subjective, I mean
Not everyone is allergic to shellfish and peanuts and
Not everyone reacts to medicine the way I do and
Toxicity is a highly individual matter, one that involves
Self-reflection and accountability as well as
Mutual respect, even just within your own skin.
The more people I met in the world
The more I never wanted to let anybody in
Now I find comfort in my own kin simply because
Their dysfunction is familiar and kindred.
Tis that time of year again and honestly
Dealing with people worse than them
Has been the only helpful process.
Family matters. The matters don’t.
Sharing the same parents is some serious common ground.
I just wish I knew then
What I know now, but I’m also taking for granted
All of the work I’ve done
Rebuilding bridges both sides tore down.
I think I’d rather be a busy bee
Than an angry hermit, I’ve turned all of the pain
All the discomfort
Into motivation for what matters, respecting myself
Respecting my family
Respecting my past, present and future.
Reconciling with my bizarre “extended puberty”
Making peace with my journey
At the end of the day, family
Are the only people who stick around
When everything good goes away.