Hope

Yesterday morning Dave and I went skiing.  While the sky was bright blue above us and we practically had the slopes all to ourselves, I could not rid myself of a sense of melancholy.  I could not stop thinking about a very recent conversation with a family member that had cut me to the core.  I could not stop wondering if I would ever feel accepted again in my family (especially now that I am living with my boyfriend).  I wept as I told Dave I didn't want to go to my family gathering later in the day.  He said he would do whatever I wanted, but reminded me of how certain of my family members had generously helped with my move earlier this week.  He suggested that avoidance would probably not resolve things and actually might hurt more people.  I knew he was right, but was filled with dread.

So, later in the afternoon, we solemnly headed to the family gathering.  As we drove, we tried to put ourselves in the shoes of those who had hurt us.  We strengthened our resolve to be kind, or at least respectful.  We arrived right on time, hugged one another, and put on our smiles... 

We not only survived; we had a wonderful time.

This morning when I awoke, once again I could not help but weep.  This time, however, the feeling was quite different.  I was filled with hope.  Yesterday, as Dave and I tried our best to move past the hurt, my family members simultaneously tried their best to do the same. When we hugged, there were tender feelings, but most of all love.  I can't begin to explain how much the evening meant to me.  I was proud of Dave, proud of myself, and reassured of my family's love.

I so appreciated the words of a sister, telling me that even though she does not see eye to eye with us, she does not think we are bad.  Furthermore, she said, she can see that I am happy, and is glad for that.  I needed to hear those words. 

I was pleased and touched to see the Christmas stocking laid out with my boyfriend's name on it, and the gifts addressed to both of us.  Over and over my family showed that even if they don't understand or approve our choices, they accept and love us.

I was not sure if I should share this experience, recognizing that in our DAMU community there is much hurt and heartache relating to our relationships with our TBM families.  But I decided to share it for two reasons, 1) out of fairness, considering the more negative experiences I've also shared in this blog, and 2) to encourage those who wonder - as I have many times - if they can ever again enjoy being around their families after feeling so hurt.

I loved Jon Stewart's speech a couple months ago, in which he said how people consistently show that they can set aside differences and get along [in spite of the polarizing media]. We humans are incredibly resilient, and capable of loving and forgiving. I'm glad for opportunities to be reminded of that.