Giving Up On Nice Things

There isn’t a single day that doesn’t hurt, physically, mentally, and emotionally. That’s the toll of being a 35 year old that disowned his family over politics. You’ll find hundreds, if not thousands of people talking about how politics should never come between families, like those of us who have left are just sociopaths who can’t feel the hurt of our own choices. Of course it fucking hurts, do you honestly believe that anyone would choose to not have a relationship with their own mother on a lark? Can you not possibly fathom just how much pain there must have been in the relationship for this pain to be more tolerable?

These kinds of injuries and this kind of pain aren’t simple. If you take the simplest view of this fight, I walked out on a lunch in the middle of a family vacation and never spoke to them again. That certainly paints are certain sociopathic picture, but it also discounts the 30 years worth of fights leading up to that fight and the complete lack of resolution to any of them.

It’s not even that I think my family are bad people. I suppose, if I thought that it might not hurt, but somehow I doubt it, it’d just be a different pain. But they live in a world that is startlingly immutable, like we’re stuck in a perpetual Y2K bug and they can’t see past their own fear of change. They are the kind of boomers that don’t go to church, and haven’t in years, but still feel guilty about it. That’s it? That’s just how you are going to feel for the rest of your life, a weird guilt about a religion you barely practice and as a result can’t…