Blood is thicker than water, especially when it’s donated: On finding my family outside of my family

Castillo San Felipe del Morro, San Juan, Puerto Rico

When I was a little girl my Mom would lock me in my room whenever I emoted. Anger became a forbidden monster that I couldn’t reveal to anyone except for myself. I had to hide every emotion that didn’t embody happiness or confidence. All other emotions needed to be buried deep into my hips or revealed in my own, personal isolation tank. I suppressed these emotions so much so that they burst out of me like an explosion when the smallest things triggered me.

My Dad was taught the same going into this marriage with Mom. As were my brothers, being born from her. We shared her trauma, in her womb. We felt every pain she felt but we suppressed that too. Because that’s how Mom operated. That’s how she was taught to express emotions growing up - she just simply, wasn’t. This blockage followed me into my adult years and now, at 25, I still battle with those voices in my head that tell me I am going to be abandoned if I feel. 

And sometimes I lose the battle. But other times, when I am strong, I tell those voices that I am human and I was given emotions at creation so how can I deny a part of me that is my birthright? And not only that, how the fuck will I ever be happy like Mom wanted if I don’t honor my sadness? 

My brothers are still dealing with all the years of suppression. They still suppress. When I emote, they run. When Dad emotes, we all run. It’s like a fucking circus that no one wants to be apart of. 

So I look for support elsewhere. That has become my lifeline. And I travel. And when I travel, I feel the most comfortable, I feel the most like myself. Because my family was never really where I found support. I found support in strangers.

And I realize now that sometimes our family is not our only family. Sometimes, our family comes from a different lineage or an entirely different line of blood. Sometimes our family lives in Texas and Puerto Rico while we reside in New York. Sometimes our family doesn’t share the same last name or even the same language. 

Sometimes, the only thing our family shares is experience. And escaping that isolation tank with the intent to feel deeply and to love others deeply. Sometimes, our family outside of our family has been the love and support we’ve needed our whole lives. Sometimes, it’s been searching for us this entire time, just like we have been searching for it too.

And maybe, we find it. Sitting beside us on the grass on a warm, November day on our favorite island in the world. And we forget what it was like to not have that support at all.