Being an empath means I’m emotionally intelligent. I see and understand things invisible to the normal eye. I understand things on a subconscious level. And I perceive a lot of things as signs from the universe. In fact the past 16 years have been FULL of signs from the universe. They helped me piece my life back together after suffering amnesia in my Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI). Being the only one as emotionally intelligent in my family is a rather hard pill to swallow. But I have come to realize that it is what it is, and I just need to play the hand I was dealt in life.

My family doesn’t really understand me, they never have. I’m what you would call the black sheep in the family. Well more like the rainbow sheep since I’m the only gay one in the group. I’m going to share a story with you that happened just last week at Christmas dinner. A little back story first though…

In 2006, the year of my accident, my family was there for me every step of the way. I had never felt so loved and wanted before by them in my entire life. It was the most amazing feeling, and it taught me that despite how it seemed in the past, I was in fact loved. Truth be told I wasn’t even on speaking terms with my parents at the time of my crash. When they were home and awake, I was gone. I planned it that way, cause it was the only way to “keep the peace.” And it wasn’t even really doing that, it was more like it was prolonging the inevitable blowup that lurked behind every inch of the house.

Now I was in no way an angel and I was fully aware of my part in the spats. But haven’t you ever just been so fed up by the wash, rinse, and repeat lifestyle that you couldn’t help but to explode? When they started yelling and chastising me, I gave it right back to them. I guess we just got into a routine when ever we were around each other. And I try to avoid conflict if I can. Chaos is my kryptonite.

So color me surprised that they visited me everyday when I was in the hospital. About a month of that time I was sound asleep in a coma, the other part of the time I was doing a lot of rehabilitation therapy daily. It proved to me I was loved even though I never felt it. And my family was super supportive and helpful in my recovery process. Fast forward sixteen years and I’m healing from yet another traumatic experience and I have literally no one being helpful or supportive right now. This wasn’t another accident or brain injury but trauma in general changes the brain.

Back in April of last year (2022) I left an abusive relationship. My ex is a malignant narcissist and my family actually had to rescue my daughter and I from the toxic environment. The only reason I stayed with her as long as I did was because I did not want to move back home, but it got to the point that I couldn’t do it any longer, and so here we are. My daughter-in-law and I living under my parent’s roof sharing a trundle bed in my old bedroom. In April I started a much needed healing journey because my ex really tore me apart. Honestly if I didn’t have a daughter to take care of I would have killed myself she brought me so low. But I do have a daughter and I could never do that to her. My healing journey consisted of a lot of personal reflection, and combined with the power of medical marijuana, low and be hold it cured my amnesia and reopened many old wounds that were never healed.

Let me repeat myself… healing from the freshest wounds reopened all of my old wounds that I never really dealt with, and it cured my amnesia. So now I’m suffering daily from Complex PTSD and I’m processing all of my traumas at the same time. My head is a whirlwind of flashbacks, but I also finally realized my full potential for the first time in my life.

All of that being said, I will now get to the real purpose of this post. What happened to me just last week at Christmas dinner…

So when my one aunt has big dinners at her house she goes all out with elaborate place settings with seat markers and name places etc. This year she did ornaments with sea shells, wire, and beads. Literally everyone else had a shell except me. Mine was a rock, a boring gray rock. Instead of getting my feelings hurt I’m taking it as a sign that that’s exactly what I need to do, gray rock them. They don’t give a shit about me anyway so what would they care.

I just don’t understand why they were all about being there for me after my car accident but now I’m basically chopped liver. Things shifted when I came out as gay, they said they don’t care and it didn’t bother them, but they are also the kind of toxic that will say one thing to your face and another thing behind your back. My one aunt is a newly retired nurse going through some serious compassion burnout (it’s a real thing) and she’s very negative despite the fake ass smile she keeps on her face. The only conversations she wants to be involved in are ones where she gets to gloat about herself. And my other aunt is bursting with what is called toxic positivity. She pours it on so thick it makes me want to barf cause I can see right through it.

I’m through yearning for their acceptance and approval, I literally just don’t have the energy to care anymore. It just sucks we can’t choose our families.