Family of Strangers

It has almost been a year since I last communicated with the people I once called family. I wrote my story and asked them to read it. I asked them to give me feedback about it, anything that they might have to say. There was no response either positive or negative, just silence. One cousin said she was sorry I’d suffered and hoped I would find happiness, but she said it after I blocked them all, after I’d asked for a response and after I was done. It was too little, too late. I had needed the support when I asked for it, not after I’d gotten over the crisis.

I looked through their pictures on social media yesterday and I feel no connection to any of those people. I don’t resonate with them or the things they do, the things they believe or the way they are.

It is weird how different I feel about them after having some time and distance from them. I feel no connection with them at all. I spent so many years caring about what they thought and giving them the power to make me feel such harmful things about myself. It seems like a bad dream, not like reality.

This world is full of souls. There are so many different kinds of people on this planet right now. We are all different kinds, with all kinds of different experiences that make up who we think we are, and who we actually are.

I came into this world as a soul and became part of a family of strangers. I never fit in with them because I never was a part of them. We are from totally different planets. They remind me of how strong I am. They remind me of how powerful, beautiful, and intelligent I am. They have recalled my wisdom to me through their mistreatment of me.

For that, I am grateful.

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