This mental exercise particularly hurts, because in many ways I feel like my blood relatives are the one thing I still have. Nonetheless, I think it's self-evident my relationship with them is a parasitic one.
My mother gestated me beginning at 17 years old and ending at 18 years old. My birth wasn't planned, and my father cheated on and gaslit my mother throughout the entirety of their relationship, culminating in them divorcing when I was 6.
Having to take care of a child as a single parent means my mother's youth was robbed from her. We'd hop between living with my maternal relatives and renting houses with the financial assistance of my short-lived stepfathers.
My mom told me she wanted to be an actress or a journalist as a child. Although probably just a childhood whimsy, she was entitled to at least have had a choice on the matter, instead of eventually being forced to become a housewife to provide for me.
I sometimes wish she had birthed a girl instead, since being forced to raise a child who didn't even share her sex, in my view, was adding insult to the injury of involuntarily getting pregnant.
Despite all that, I'm not good at expressing affection. You'd get the impression I'd cherish her for all the sacrifices she made for me, but during our day-to-day cohabitation I don't feel much.
I struggle to differentiate whether I love my relatives or just like them. I do feel a measure of protectiveness towards them, but caring doesn't equate to loving.
Moreover, I know I'm not entitled to any of their love. Ultimately, I'm just a stranger who shares genetic relatedness with them. It isn't and cannot be something you take for granted, because parents won't wish for you to depend on them forever, their death notwithstanding.
It's difficult to be vulnerable with others to begin with, but there's the added fact that, with a mother, you're leveraging an oppressive institution by unburdening your emotions on her, consolidating the role of motherhood as perpetual nurture.
I used to feel I can at least let my guard down around relatives, since, given our inalterable connection, it's less likely they'd find me intolerable, despite the fact I'm a disgusting wretch, but that's not a given either.
There's only so much you can take before a person gets tired of giving, and it's probably better to abstain than let the habit fester. Detaching from relatives would just be the logical implication of what I
already wrote about myself.
The meaning of such a detachment, to me, would be antecipating the worst and shielding yourself beforehand. Keeping my innermost emotions to myself comes naturally, but there must be an additional layer of mental disengagement wherein you don't allow yourself to cling onto anyone.
The takeaway from the mental exercise is only allowing yourself to trust other insofar as you'd cope with them being gone from your life. In short, understand your place in the emotional hierarchy and adjust your expectations accordingly.
Even more succintly: let yourself enjoy others's company, but
never let your guard down with them.