http://luminaria.wordpress.com/2008/07/27/a-familial-kind-of-murder/ The road to truth is long, and lined the entire way with annoying bastards. —A. Jablokov Mon, 21 Dec 2009 17:37:00 +0000 http://wordpress.com/ hourly 1 http://luminaria.wordpress.com/2008/07/27/a-familial-kind-of-murder/#comment-6838 auralfreq Sun, 27 Jul 2008 23:12:11 +0000 http://luminaria.wordpress.com/?p=1209#comment-6838 I have a slightly similar story except my blood relatives were always within reach, just a mile up the road or in the city next door. The problem with that is that although they were present, I was still outcast. An afterthought not worthy of their attentions. A non-person in many ways. The overwhelming sense of abandonment in this circumstance, is very hard to express. To see your father not even capable of realizing it is your birthday, adopt another child and lavish her with affection. To see your siblings but to have no connection between you because your experiences of family are so divergent and different, as no two grew up in the same household. To watch the same destructive patterns of your mother being foisted upon yet another child but having no say over it. To lose the one person that cared for and about you when all others would have thrown you away, then seeing that person's existence erased as if it had never been. Perhaps I will blog about it at some point. I have to wonder though if this familiarity with being dispossessed doesn't heighten awareness and consciousness of the troubles of our fellow man. In the end, I always fall back on the belief that every path leads forward, no matter how rocky. I have a slightly similar story except my blood relatives were always within reach, just a mile up the road or in the city next door. The problem with that is that although they were present, I was still outcast. An afterthought not worthy of their attentions. A non-person in many ways. The overwhelming sense of abandonment in this circumstance, is very hard to express. To see your father not even capable of realizing it is your birthday, adopt another child and lavish her with affection. To see your siblings but to have no connection between you because your experiences of family are so divergent and different, as no two grew up in the same household. To watch the same destructive patterns of your mother being foisted upon yet another child but having no say over it. To lose the one person that cared for and about you when all others would have thrown you away, then seeing that person’s existence erased as if it had never been. Perhaps I will blog about it at some point. I have to wonder though if this familiarity with being dispossessed doesn’t heighten awareness and consciousness of the troubles of our fellow man. In the end, I always fall back on the belief that every path leads forward, no matter how rocky.

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