There is a moment in our lives when we forget that people we counted on were never there for us. Many of us had to really pull ourselves up by our bootstraps because there was no one there who showed compassion. Somewhere along the road to growth we equated that black hole as much more loving than it was. We cried ourselves to sleep because we didn’t feel pretty or handsome enough to be truly special to our family. They solidified it by making snide remarks which denigrated us or put down the talents we so obviously held.
As a young adult we moved out of the state and met a whole new generation of people who “saw” us as we were. We met an urban tribe who validated our special talents and supported our dreams and aspirations. As we got older something in us yearned to return to the simple life. We returned to a family that we had fantasized was loving, open and warm. Reality hit us much harder than the dream of making it. The family that met us were either dismissive or too judgmental. They reminded us that we had gained weight or worse we were more attractive now signifying that we were ugly back then. What had been considered a charming personality that was witty and bright has been labeled as “overbearing” by those who should understand our value. The cruel Hollywood image of impossible perfection pales in comparison to what 0ur family has to say about our life, our accomplishments and our beauty or lack of it.
We begin to see that the urban tribe that we created and participated within was much more forgiving of imperfection. We begin to see that life close to relatives who are not as educated or as worldly as we have been seeks to denigrate, to “take down a peg”. We have become older however so then we determine to plow through trying to ignore the childlike spirit within which cries from being placed in the corner. Our urban tribe knows the line, “Nobody puts baby in the corner” and they scream it loudly if only in our subconscious mind. Going home has never been easy. “You can’t go home again” is what they say but truthfully what about the cost of living? It is indeed cheaper and much more beautiful to live away from the lights, the expense, the danger of a large urban area.
There is something lost in the change however. There is something special about being a part of a family of your own creation. There is something demoralizing about “returning home”. People can be jealous, rude, inconsiderate and unkind but truly I have found this to be much more the case with the family of origin than with perfect strangers who became friends for the sake of being friends. I have always understood Blanche Dubois’s statement, “I have always depended upon the kindness of strangers” because honestly family can be scary and unbearable. The solution is to disassociate from family or obviously to return to our old stomping grounds. What else is there to do? Do not wax nostalgic about the good ole days because we should all know that these are the good ole days.