… Says the (almost) 32-year-old Woman

I never write about Breast Cancer Awareness. I never know what to say. I usually leave it up to more qualified writers who’ve got experience with the subject beyond just “My aunt died of a malignant brain tumor. Does that count?” I may have actually written exactly that last year on one of the various places I write.

This time, I’ll just say check out our Breast Cancer Awareness category here for some really great reasons to make sure you and everyone you know are at least doing self exams (You too, fellas!). And head on over to EdenTube and check out the awesome videos we’ve got in from all you incredible contributors. Please, please do monthly self exams and pop into a doc if you find something you’re not used to.

This October, my mind is elsewhere. I’ve got a trip to visit my dad in sixteen days. While I’m there, I will be meeting my stepmother, my 5-year-old niece, my step-siblings and all my step-nieces and nephews for the very first time, and watching my father marry someone who isn’t my mother all in the space of a day and a half. And I have to wear a dress.

If you know me even a little bit, you’ve got an idea of what’s going on in my head right now. Every time I think about it, I get nauseous.

Family is not something I do well with. I can relate better to perfect strangers than the people I grew up with. I was going to say “the people who raised me” but nobody raised me. Not for lack of trying. It’s just really difficult to teach me abstract concepts. I have to figure things out for myself. Even today, as a fully grown woman, I’ve been known to say something to the effect of “I don’t care what you say. I think this is the way, and that’s what I’m doing.” Just a little stubborn.

I originally decided to go to this wedding for all the wrong reasons. My sister wasn’t going to go because she felt like she was betraying Mom, so I was going to have a bit of time with Dad and my new extended family to myself. A moment to make my own impression and not spend the entire time trying to outshine my “good” sister or prove I’m not the horrible person my mother and her family believe I am. I was hoping that maybe this time, since it was all about him and his new bride, he wouldn’t spend the entire time on the phone with my sister. Maybe he’d focus a little of his attention on me for a change.

That’s not going to happen. My sister changed her mind, and I’m only going to be there for at most 48 hours. Sixteen of them, we’ll be sleeping. At least eight of them, we’ll be in a car. We’ll say three hours for the ceremony and reception, and at least an hour and a half of getting ready. Maybe more since there will be at least five adults and one child staying at my dad’s place. So that leaves about 25 hours to meet and greet and spend time with my new family. Nowhere near enough time to even scratch the surface of what I really need from my old family to consider trying to rebuild a relationship with them. So it goes on the back burner. Again. And no one knows why I stay away. As usual.

Of course, I know, mentally, that it never should have been about that for me. Timing is everything, and going into my dad’s wedding weekend expecting anything more than celebrating the beginning of what I hope proves to be many years of happiness for him is selfish and mean. Even if there’s never a better time, and even if the conversation goes well, bringing up how I’ve felt pretty much all of my life at his wedding would be a really shitty thing to do.

M has left this situation entirely up to me. That’s a weird feeling. And it shows that we’ve come to a place in our relationship where He trusts me to make major decisions like this while taking into consideration all the things this could affect should it go badly. Of course, part of this, too, is Him knowing that I feel like I have to do this.

This step is a clear indication that we are somewhere we weren’t eight years ago. Eight years ago, had I faltered in my resolve to follow through for even a second, M would have pulled the plug on the whole thing. He’d have told me we weren’t going and would have tied up our purse strings so tight he’d squeeze a booger out of Abe Lincoln’s nose. He would’ve been right to do that, too. And not just for the “He’s the master. His word is law.” reason, either, though that should be the only reason He needs in our relationship. I’ve freely given Him that.

No, He’d be right to do it because eight years ago I couldn’t handle a situation like this like a mature adult should. I wasn’t a mature adult. Hell, I’m probably still not a mature adult. I sang along with Peter Pan and the Lost Boys about never growing up loudest and hardest of all my friends. The Toys R Us jingle was my favorite. I’ll probably drag M in there next year some time in the summer when it tends to have the least people in it.

In a vanilla (In the “There is no hierarchy.” sense, not the “You suck cause you’re not kinky.” sense. The latter is totally not my style.) relationship, that’s probably none of His business. In a vanilla relationship, if M still felt the way He does about this situation, His only recourse would be to express His concerns and wait for me to decide. He wouldn’t have to go or support my decision if he didn’t want to, but ultimately, the decision would be mine. Especially considering my father and I paid for the plane tickets.

This isn’t a vanilla relationship. My money is not my money. The decisions about my life and what I need are only mine to make when M allows me to make them. And when He decides to go against what I want, it’s rarely ever for selfish reasons. I’ll concede that I don’t always understand His logic, but I do know He tries to do what He thinks is best.

He knows that I feel like I really need to go this time. I feel like this is my last chance. I don’t know why. No one’s said anything to make me feel that way. Maybe it’s just part of my “eccentricities”. Whatever it is, He’s letting me lead us down this path. And now I’m really scared, cause there’s a whole bunch of people I’ve never met watching for who knows what, and I feel like I’m leading us into the lion’s den.

Great googly moogly! Why does growing up have to be so hard?

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