Nic Narrates

Holiday visits with family in recent years have tended to devolve into my locking myself in a bathroom at some point. Without fail, I’d find myself in dire need of some peace and quiet, to simply breathe for a moment without having to fight to be heard, respected, and accepted. I needed a break, and unfamiliar with SC, not to mention lacking a get-away vehicle, I’d run to the only room that locked.

See, I’m a bit different from everyone else in my family. I’m not sure how or when it happened exactly; maybe it was an accumulation of slights or embarrassments over twenty some odd years, but I’ve grown up quite at odds with them in fact.

Whereas they all swear excessively and speak crassly and without tolerance, political correctness, tact, or emotional consideration; I’m quieter, more subdued, and “prissy.” I’m a bit of a joke in my own family for the way I organize my place setting, for my insistence that if they must use the term, that they instead say “C-U-next-Tuesday,” and for my refusal to treat racist humor as just plain harmless fun.

But despite our differences, I love my family very much and appreciate them and their unique form of support and reliability. They’re my family, the only one I’ve got, and I love them even though I don’t always agree with their choice of words or actions, as I’m sure they don’t always understand or agree with mine.

Knowing that, I never once felt the need to seek out the cold-tiled seclusion of the guest bath this past Thanksgiving. That was the little girl me, hiding behind the locked door, uncertain how to cope. The grown up me finally flung open that door, leaving the crying little girl in awe behind, and has found a proper place at home at last.

Filed under: childhood, crossroads, family matters by Nic