Lately I’ve been feeling like there’s some hurt between me and my mother-in-law. I’m not sure if it’s mutual, but it’s definitely there on my end. It started a few months ago where something inside of me shut off and stopped seeking. Seeking connection through conversation. My father-in-law was always much easier to talk to, partly because he would just keep saying things to fill space and expand on whatever it is he was talking about, even if it was just something that didn’t seem small.

One time he told me I was an astoundingly beautiful woman. That is not quite the adjective, but it was something of that nature. We were sitting in his pickup after I’d met him early in the morning trying to reach out for some kind of help. What I wanted him to do was to grab his son by the scruff of his collar and tell him to shape up. But for 45 minutes we sat in a parking lot somewhere in Springfield while he listened to my woes. If he wouldn’t help me then what actual hope was there?

So with him at least it felt like there was somewhere for my soul to go. The way I looked like this withdrawn and reclusive person to many other people because of other family dynamics is something I’m still coming back from and am mostly (finally) not angry about. Life is too short too miss out on these moments and gatherings. I’m trying, slowly, to connect where the events are, the 70th birthday party, the family reunion for an out-of-town aunt. But I still do want to talk to her about this.