There’s some stuff going on within my family that is private. I can’t give details here. But suffice it to say, it’s rocked my world. And not in a good way.
It makes me feel helpful (and hence good) that people can talk to me and tell me what’s going on with them. And I really hope that talking to me helps them to feel better, step outside the situation a bit, and get some clarity. I really, really hope that.
But I’ve had to come to grips over the last few weeks with the fact that my more persistent relationship neuroses, it turns out, aren’t uniquely mine. And by “come to grips,” I mean merely that I’ve been presented with undeniable evidence … but I’ve hardly begun to deal with it. I’m not even sure how to begin that process.
And so … I need to talk about some stuff, but I don’t really even know what to say. There’s nothing I can do about the situation, and as a result, there’s not really anything that anyone can say to me, either. That makes talking about it feel futile, and I already feel pretty damned helpless.
I wish my brother lived closer. I could really do with some face time with Rrrrrrroberto! right about now.