the day after Christmas I couldn't get out of bed. I cried with the covers over my head and thought about running away. But where would I go? Despite a quiet, wonderful day with my husband and dog, getting eveything I couldpossibly want and more, I felt empty. And, for the first time in four years, I remembered why I wanted to move to Mexico. There were many reasons, really. Including being unable to find a career or vocation, the extended post college malais, mounting debts, and feeling bored, trapped and useless, there was the ardent desire to be estranged from my family. I hated them in their grief, their anger, their failure and miserable lives. And when I realized I could not wish them away, I decided to travel far from their depressing grasp. I thought I could espcape them. And I did, for a time. No one really knew where I was for a while. It felt amazing to be free. I didn't care if I was lost from them; they knew me not, so why should they interfere. Gradually, we spoke more, I felt left out of holidays, I missed their quirks. And I was happy to participate when we came home. I wanted to be part of a family again.
My family is nothing like me. And I am nothing like them. I hope. More than that, I must remember to be vigilant that I never inherit their terrible outlook and negative ways of life.
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