Family Circus

By no means do I think that I am the only normal person in my family. I do, however, think that I am one of the only people I know who accepts herself as I am. I know I like to drink. I know I can be a tad standoffish. I know I can be anxious and nervous and weird.


But I don't pretend that shit doesn't bother me. I don't pretend to not notice my flaws.


My family, on the other hand, are in denial like a mofo.

I have an aunt that is on more kryptonite than the whole Purple Ribbon All Stars.
I have a 17 year old, beautfully smart cousn who is in a gang.
The mother of this cousin, my aunt, is in the worst state: she is in denail of my cousin's gang involvement.

I don't care how bad my kids turn out. I don't care if my mom turns to meth, my sister goes delirious. I don't care if my husband starts fucking men....well I would care. I might be embarrassed. I will possibly be ashamed. But I will not deny the truths and facts. That kind of secrecy is like a cancer to a family. It ghas denied me to really know the people who are supposed to be closest to me. And learn to appreciate their flaws.

Though there are lots of things wrong with me, hiding under a rock is not going to fix them. I don't know how to deal with the traits of craziness streaming through my DNA. Every now and then I pop up and think the way my grandmother was thinking, or look the other way when the huge elephants of alcoholism and poor health begin crowding my space.

But I won't deny who I am. The lighter shades, and the darker shades that make me...sometimes ugly...but complete.