You really recognise where you come from when you go to a family reunion. 34 people were expected for yesterday's gathering in Elwood City, Pennsylvania. This gathering, which I assumed was one of the normal summer gatherings that we used to have at Aunt L's house, turns out to have been organised in my honour - because I am so rarely in the country. This induced some guilt, but also an emotional swelling in realisation that a lot of family were coming out in part to see me. Or more that my Aunt G thought it the right thing to do, that the family gathers to see me. And sadness that the big family gatherings no longer bring the family hoardes back to the centre of the family tree, the reason why Aunt G does not regularly organised them any longer.
I don't think visiting the relatives was ever a fraught experience for me before, but in my adulthood, like so many things that are no longer unambiguous, its given me a lot to think about.
It is a family that loves nothing more than to eat and where most of the people over the age of 25 are chubby. Most of my young cousins, twenty-somethings, are quite attractive, and thin. It is probably only my parents who go on and on about dieting, but I feel more anxious about my weight and looks here with my family, am concerned more about being judged and found physically wanting. These are age-old issues for me but perhaps are compounded by the liberal sprinklings of criticism my family produces. Despite their overt tolerance, there is a lot of gossip, complaining and criticism going on in private conversation, which makes me a little uncomfortable. Probably because I am the same way - just narky about different things and different people than they are.
Also, compounding my insecurities is my singledom. I love being single, but in a family where everyone is married off with copious kids, I am afraid they think I am unwanted rather than single by choice. I don’t want my young cousins to think I’m too weird to find a man. They have all come with their boyfriends or babies. The more boyfriends and babies there are, the less I want to have anything to do with them and the less interested I am in talking to and getting to know my cousins. I was originally so excited to find out what these young people were up to. I have such fond memories of them as toddlers. But they showed little to no interest in me and I never overheard any conversation about work or studies or projects. I did hear about wedding plans and engagements. I do have one cousin who is also a traveller, travelling more roughly than I do, but she was not in the country.
So I am watching myself turn into a crusty old spinster - and worse, being proud of it. I have to accept that most people want to pair up and bear children and that this is mostly not a feminist issue and no one cares if I am different. Though also excited about seeing my old uncles and aunts again, by the evening of the reunion I was bored with the aimless chatter, at not having a really meaningful conversation with anyone except for my cousin with a history of alcoholism who can barely bear the fact that no one in the family likes her. My aunt, who organises, cooks and cares for everyone seems stressed and not like she's enjoying herself.
I find myself contrary here, arguing with my dad over our opposing degrees of respect for authority figures, when really we aren't so far apart in our views. It is just that I need to resist his conservatism. I'm not usually like this with him, though, at least I don't think so. Definitely not over the phone.
I am hungry here because idle and unengaged, and picking my split ends. On a more positive note, I had a good time with my sister after we had a long heart-to-heart last night. I admitted to insecurity over her body being so much better than mine. She admitted being envious that I am not as fearful of some sorts of things as she is. There is so much for me to overcome: self-emphasis on attractiveness, the need to accentuate my rebelliousness, a tendency towards the critical. And I know all this. Generally I feel I've made progress. Not so with my family – it was a regressive experience.
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