Following up on my earlier post today, I want to share something deeply personal that has weighed on me. My upbringing was quite unusual for its time. I grew up in a nuclear family, a rarity in an era when large families were the norm. My grandfather was an only child, and I never heard of him having any siblings who might have died at birth, which was a common tragedy back then. An only child was quite the opposite to families with more than six to eight kids.
My father’s family also faced its share of loss. He had two elder siblings; one passed away shortly after birth, and another at the age of eight from an illness. This left my father and his sister as the only surviving children. Tragically, my grandmother died while giving birth to her fifth child. What was truly uncommon was that my grandfather chose not to remarry, despite being young enough to do so in a society where it was expected.
After my aunt got married, our household naturally became a nuclear family. To add to this, my grandfather passed away the year before I was born. This meant my mother never experienced living with in-laws, nor did she ever have to navigate the complexities of a relationship with a mother-in-law.
When I got married, my understanding of handling in-laws was purely fictional. I had no practical experience, having never witnessed such dynamics at home. It was just what I heard from others, never saw it happen before my eyes. I was genuinely eager to learn how people managed large families, picturing them as vibrant hubs of activity and fun, with endless family functions. And yes, many functions do happen, which is wonderful! But what I hadn't anticipated was the undercurrent of "kitchen politics."
With no interaction with my husband before our wedding, I struggled immensely in the beginning to understand the unspoken rules and navigate who to say what to. Perhaps my innocent demeanor or my ignorance of this family led people to believe I can be easily manipulated, because my expectations of a large, joyful family quickly clashed with the harsh reality I faced. I found myself with a number of mothers-in-law, all seemingly ready to critique everything from my posture to my clothing to every word I uttered or even when I didn't speak at all.
I have to admit, I now despise the "kitchen politics" so much that I've retreated, choosing to say nothing to anyone. It feels as though I've stagnated in building new relationships within my married life; my closest connections remain the same people I had before marriage.
A growing sense of isolation and loneliness consumes me daily. As a woman, there's an unspoken expectation that my primary attachments should shift from my birth family to my in-laws. But how can I achieve this alone when I'm consistently made to feel like an outsider, even after years of being a part of this family? Can I truly make everyone my own if they're unwilling to embrace me as one of them?
It's easy to hear advice like, "learn to leave the baggage behind if it's burdening you." But the truth is, I often wonder, how much, and what exactly, am I supposed to leave behind? Am I simply a solo traveler on this journey of life? Was it a fault to accept challenges head-on instead of trying to run away? Was it a mistake to hold onto positivity, even when a part of me knew things might not be as ideal as I hoped?
Life often feels like an endless series of problems to solve. Yet, it's those meaningful relationships that are supposed to provide moral support, offer new ideas, and inspire us to explore our abilities. Sadly, in my current situation, this feels unfulfilled. I've come a long way from being positive and believing that divine help would guide my every step, to now feeling quite the opposite. I've reached a point where I've had to accept that many of my dreams may simply remain out of reach.
I've found myself replacing my own aspirations with what was offered to me, even when it didn't truly resonate. Perhaps the first time I did this set a precedent, leading to a recurring pattern. I feel like a fool for understanding this cycle, yet feeling utterly powerless to change it.
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