What must I do? What have I done? Whatever it is, it is wrong. That habitual way of viewing myself is not something to be eradicated but managed.
One summer not too many years ago, I managed to erupt myself into such a flurry that I spent a night in the hospital when brother Seth criticized my writing the book SHATTERED.
It was about this time of year, in June. I thought I was having a heart attack, but it was an attack on my heart by one I thought cared for me, but rather cared more about his reputation not wanting it known out in the world that our family is dysfunctional.
Family. That is something built after leaving it, not anything having to do with the people I was born unto.
I send him emails from time to time. Not sure why. I guess in the hopes to retain something rather than nothing. But he moved here from California last summer and has not made his way from the city to my house only a half-hour away. Family?
Nor has the other brother, Don, but they often get together with each other. With the recent loss of the up-coming grand-child still in the womb at 6 months, it was only my younger brother Stevie who asked for Cory’s address to send a note of sympathy.
No one wants to get close to me, but rather act like I don’t exist unless it suits them. Don’s Christmas party. Then nothing. Samuel says keep trying for that one on one. Really? What for?