To a place which obviously isn’t really “home” anymore, and hasn’t been for a long time.
In the spirit of accumulating Plan B’s though, I took the leap and got a plane ticket back to Arizona for Thanksgiving.
Knowing full well that I will find out whether or not this IVF round worked just days before that plane takes off.
Which would mean, a trip home could either turn into an amazing celebration, or… a disastrous meltdown in which I take my broken heart out on everyone who loves me.
This could go either way.
Here’s the thing you should know about my family; the dynamics are… complex. If you’ve been reading for a while, you may have caught on to some of those complexities. The truth is that moving away from Arizona was the best thing I ever could have done for myself. I was never going to heal from the wounds of my childhood while still stuck right there in the middle of it.
It took my leaving that town, that state, that life for me to begin to repair some of those scars I had been left with. It took my leaving for my father and I to begin healing our relationship as well.
A relationship which has taken yet another twist now that he and my stepmother have divorced.
In fact, this trip will be the first time I step foot in the home he’s been living in for the last however many years. From the point when I turned 18 and my stepmom took it upon herself to pack up everything I owned, I haven’t been allowed in their home.
At all. Not once. Not ever.
And now, suddenly, I’ll be staying there.
Don’t get me wrong, I really am happy about this new development. I never wanted to see my dad hurt, but the woman was cold and spiteful and downright abusive to me growing up. I’ve said here before that the scars she left me with were actually far worse than the ones my mother left me with, if only because as much as the choices my mother made kill me; I’ve always known that her intentions were never to hurt anyone.
She did the best she could, it was just that her best wasn't really any good.
I cannot say the same for my stepmother. We’re talking about a woman who wrote out a list of everything that was wrong with me when I was 13 and set it up for me to find. A woman who told me to my face almost from day one that she did not want me in her home – even though I was just a child. Even though she had known she was marrying a man with children. Even though I moved into that home wanting desperately for her to love me and want me.
I truly believe that she made the decision to tear me down from early on, and that she went full force ahead with that effort. I believe with all my heart that she manipulated and lied and deceived to try to put a wedge between my father and I. I believe she would have loved nothing more than to see me become a pathetic excuse for an adult so that she could have pointed and said “See! I told you that girl was no good!”
And I believe it’s because in her sick and twisted head, she was threatened by anyone who could possibly take my father’s attention away from her.
That woman did not like to share.
But the problem there is, my dad let her get away with it.
Now, I love my father with all my heart and I have long since forgiven him for this (and based on the history there, I even kind of understand it), but… He let her hurt me in a thousand different ways. He allowed her to set guidelines that kept me out of aspects of his life. He gave her the rope to make me feel unwelcome. To make me feel like an intruder in that home. I know that wasn't ever his intention, and that in many ways he never wanted to believe any of it was happening at all. But by the time he really acknowledged what had gone down, it was too late. There was nothing he could do about it.
I was already gone.
And now, going back there, and suddenly having a room and space in that home (suddenly being welcome there) is almost a little weird. In fact, I told him initially that I didn’t want to stay with him, solely because it still kind of hurt to know that the only reason I was now welcome there was because she had left. That if she hadn’t, I would still be staying with my grandparents and friends every time I came for a visit.
I guess something about that still stings…
But after talking to my dad about it, and voicing my hurt feelings and apprehension over staying with him now (which he took incredibly well, because… my dad’s just kind of amazing like that) I realized I was being silly. For the last 10 years it has broken my heart that I wasn’t welcome in my fathers home, and now that that isn’t the case I’m going to make it so anyway?
That’s just crazy talk!
The past is the past and the wicked witch is gone… I’m not going to allow her to continue causing splinters in my relationship with my father.
Which brings us back to the question of Thanksgiving.
(Courtesy of Google Images)
My dad wanted me to come “home”. The devirginator was pushing for me to make an appearance too. And I knew the vast majority of the friends I grew up with (most of whom have spread across the country just like I have) would all be back in town for the holidays as well.
Plus, I kind of realized something. If this next round doesn’t work and I stay here in Alaska, I am going to wind up holed up in my condo by myself for those 4 days I won’t have to work. I know me, and I know that that’s how I grieve. I won’t go anywhere, I won’t do anything, and I won’t talk to anyone.
I will simply watch TV and sleep.
And honestly; that just isn’t healthy.
Yes, it's how I’ve always grieved anything in the past, and sometimes it is exactly what I need, but… I’m afraid that if I allow myself to spend 4 days locked up in my house with zero interaction or responsibilities after going through that kind of loss; I won’t be able to come back out.
And while I absolutely have places to go for Thanksgiving here in town, I know that if I'm already home in my bed it'll be that much easier for me to cancel any and all plans and hide away under my covers.
And how depressing would that be?
At least in Arizona, I’ll have a bigger drive to get out and see everyone knowing that it may be forever before I get the opportunity again.
Should this round fail, I know that if I’m in Arizona I will still get out of bed and do things. See old friends, have nights out on the town, and catch up with the people in my family who I know would do anything to keep my heart from breaking if they could.
In all likelihood I’ll probably find myself breaking down during each and every one of those interactions, but at least I’ll be forcing myself out of bed.
At least I’ll be trying.
At least I’ll be “home”.
So, the ticket is purchased and I'll be going to Arizona for Thanksgiving. Five whole days spent in my old hometown.
The longest trip I’ve had back there since I left for San Diego 5 years ago.
Even for my brothers wedding, I managed to be in and out in 2 days.
Hopefully I'll be able to go with amazing news that just has to be celebrated.
But if not? If this round fails?
I can only pray that my family and friends love me as unconditionally as I love them.
Because I am gonna be a train wreck.
A train wreck who will probably ruin Thanksgiving.
But hey, what’s a dysfunctional family holiday without at least one of those?
