I spent my entire life surrounded and encompassed by family members. Massive amounts of family members. Never was it just my brother and sister, mother and father. There was always an aunt, uncle, cousin, or grandparent. Always.
A lot of my first year in New York was spent remaining in constant contact with those I love the most. But, in the past 6 months, communication has dwindled. In fact, communication at all is rare. Of course, many things have happened that could account for the lack of conversation. My grandfather's death, my father's cancer, and my general unemployment are all things that are just too difficult to talk about; and since those things encompass 80% of my life, there's not much else to speak of. It's my own fault, really. I didn't have good news to share, so I stopped sharing everything. I stopped calling, I stopped asking, and in turn, I stopped getting called, I stopped getting asked.
Most of the time, I coast along on general apathy, not bothering to worry too much about my future. I am accepting the fact that what is to happen will happen and I accept that. I apply for jobs and continue to look for things to open up doors for me, but the stress of constantly worrying about it became too much, so I stopped.
Yet, on nights like tonight, I feel the pressure. The pressure of my life and the unknown feels like being too far underwater. My chest gets tight, my muscles tense, and I long for the comforts I once knew. I miss the comfort of my room at home, just across the hall from my parents. I miss the closeness of my grandparents, knowing that I could see them in 5 minutes if I wanted to. I miss being the daughter, sister, cousin, granddaughter, niece I used to be. I miss the all-knowing family I had. I never had to tell about my problems, they just knew. Things were easy.
I guess it's part of growing up. I've had to remove myself from my close-knit family in order to find out who I really am. Have I figured that out yet? Certainly not. But, I'm trying. And maybe I'm getting closer. Maybe.