I often wondered where we went wrong along the way, if there was a moment of clarity that allowed a decision to be made against me. I often wondered if I had been prettier, thinner, or funnier, if you all would have wanted me more. Would I have proved myself as worthy, cunning, and been seen as the equal my brother had been seen as? Yet, as I got older, I realized that nothing I said or did would ever bring the tide over in my favor. I was simply too much like my black sheep father to ever have been viewed as favorable. I refused to conform, refused to be molded into something I could not, and ultimately would not be. Consequently, I lost the only family I knew.
As a child, I was convinced that my acceptance would come like a letter in the mail from my dream college. I would wake up and feel like I was a part of something bigger than me, that all my efforts to be more productive, to help out more, and to be silent would earn me a permanent seat as a member of the family. I adapted to living in the shadow of my older brother. A brother that I was made well aware of that I would never be as good as. I would never be as smart, as witty, or as brilliant. No, I would never be able to outdo the first born son. A son that would rectify the utter disappointment my father was to the family.
My black sheep father, the man that married not for money or stature, but for love. The black sheep that held friends on the same level as family and treated them as such. The black sheep that refused to be crooked to get ahead in life and worked for all he wanted. The first born son that was not afraid to fight the family for what he believed in and what he loved; in turn, he raised a daughter that would be his twin in all ways. I was by default already held at an arm’s length. I looked too much like my father, I acted too much like my father, I talked too much like my father. I was my father, and that was simply unacceptable.
There are times when I wish I had fought harder for my family. I wish I had made them see the person I was and that I was worthy. These are the times I realize that my family has never met the love of my life. They will never see me walk down the aisle, or dance at my wedding. My family will never see that my side of the church will be sparse and small compared to my counterparts’ side. They will never see the accomplishments I have made, or the children I will have.
Then, I remember that they never asked how my father was doing as he battled cancer for eight years. They never reached out to ask me if I needed help, or if my mother needed help. Holidays were left without invitations for us to join, birthdays went by without a single call, and when my beloved father, “Pops," passed, not a single person uttered a word of regret or remorse.
My life fell apart, and theirs kept going. This was not and will never be a family I will ever fight for. No, this is not who I want in my corner because for every single family member that walked out of my life, they held the door open for an amazing person to walk in.
People that started to pick the pieces up, that held my hand along the way and told me that not only was I enough, I was worthy. People that took my tiny family in and made them apart of theirs; these individuals made us know that we would never be alone. They would share in our joy as much as they would share in our misery. They would build walls around me, protect me, love me, and never walk out on me the way my own blood did.
These valuable people do not take joy in my misery or my failures, and they will never take joy in knowing the crosses I bare as the head of my family. They are my true family, and always will be, and I am blessed beyond what I could ever deserve, so for all the family that silently watches my social media, waiting for me to break: I am OK, and I always will be because in your absence, you gave me the family that I always dreamed of, so thank you for not wanting me. I found a tribe that does.
