Did you ever watch a good sitcom, like Malcolm in the Middle, see the family interactions, the dynamic and moments of closeness, the conflicts that ended with strengthening rather than negativity, going out together as a family, and be completely unable to relate? At best there's a vague sense, a shadow of a memory, of what the holiday season, Christmas time, could feel like. The atmosphere it had, the unique beauty the lights and decorated trees had past sundown, for a short period of the year.
Why wasn't my life like that? Why couldn't I have parents and siblings that I could relate to, that were intelligent and knowledgeable, reasonable and logical, who taught me about the world, guided me, had fun and were open and close like there was no need to make any effort, to try to subdue feelings of awkwardness and resistance, like it was natural, normal, like it should be?
Why were my parents so unloving and involved in my life? Even when I did so well and brought home top marks, why was there almost no praise, only the negative? Why did they end up together with 3 children if there was no love, if they were close to divorce and my father blamed my mother for ruining his life, was verbally abusive, not just to her, but to me, insulting me, degrading me, damaging me for the rest of my life? Blaming me for all my problems as if I had full control over them, oblivious to biological differences and invisible disabilities, oblivious to the help I desperately needed and never received.
I lay awake at night and wonder "How different would my life had been?". Tears before falling, tears upon rising. If I had only known what it was like to go to bed with someone you truly loved and cared for, felt their warmth and the softness of their skin, able to be completely at ease, how different would things be now?