Meditations on Family and Other Conundra

Loss of Identity - Daniella Krtsch

A little while back, someone contacted me through 23andMe's relatives' network wanting to connect. According to the site's records, we are second cousins, which I've since learned means you have a set of great-grandparents in common. He really wanted to figure out how we might share such a close relationship and was hoping I could shed some light on the situation. At first, I wasn't sure I could help him, as I know so very little about my own family. But after wracking my brain a little, I realized that I probably did have a few useful tidbits to share, so I did that. 

To make a long story short, each of us had a biological grandfather whom we never knew, and we eventually figured out that they would have been brothers. My "new" cousin had really been wanting to learn more about the portion of his family he'd never met or gotten to know, and I feel good about having been able to help. Thinking about the concept of family is always a bizarre, somewhat uncomfortable activity for me, though, and I've been doing more of that than usual these past few days. My brain feels weird as a result.

At this point, I'm just used to answering casual questions people ask me about my origins by mentioning all the estrangement and leaving it at that. "No, I'm not that close with my parents." "No, I don't see my siblings. We're estranged." "No, I don't visit extended family for the holidays. I didn't grow up in a close-knit environment and don't know most of my relatives." And so forth. I don't worry as much about how that reflects on me as I used to when I was younger, but it still feels strange to get to know a new person and have to repeat that stuff all over again. 

Most of my family members seem disturbingly normal -- or at least they do on the outside. They look normal, they have normal jobs, and they seem like well-adjusted citizens for the most part. And then there is me -- Miss Eccentric Recluse Writer 2021. Compared to the rest of my family, I look and seem like the kind of person who was probably left on someone's doorstep in a basket by aliens who were just passing through. I'm also the relative on the outskirts who doesn't really vibe with everyone else, making it seem like my oddness must be the reason. But really, I'm just more comfortable with my eccentricity and wear it right out there on my sleeve.

The fact of the matter is, there's a lot wrong with the soil in which my family tree grows. Serious mental illness bordering on balls-out insanity runs in my family -- especially my immediate family. My close relatives' mental health issues and their refusal to do anything about them are probably the primary reason I don't choose to be closer with more of them. There's also a lot of unsavory behavior and poor life choices that have gone on -- chronic dishonesty, addiction, affairs, abuse, secrets, withholding of information about certain people's origins, and other goodies along those lines. Like many highly creative people, I'm a little bit mental for sure, but beyond that, I'm surprisingly free of most of those issues, especially compared to some of my relatives. 

I'm not even on 23andMe to build a family tree or try to connect with would-be relatives, as I gave up on the idea of family myself a long time ago. I joined the service because I'm so racially mixed, I wanted some straight answers about my ethnic background, and I don't come from the type of family you can simply ask about such things. They'll lie to you, heavily edit any information you are given, and likely shame you for questioning in the first place. And I wanted to know these things about myself. I wanted accurate, trustworthy information about exactly which cultures came together to make me so I could finally feel like I belong somewhere. 

Getting that was a game-changer for me. I stopped feeling so much like a little baby alien that was once left in a basket on someone's doorstep. I began to understand that the broader question of "where do I come from" only has a little to do with my immediate relatives and all their problems. Those people are really only a tiny part of the picture, and it's up to me to shift my own focus to whatever portion of my story appeals to me the most. That helped me deal with so much of the shame I've felt about my family's issues, and I've been able to move past a lot of it since.

That said, I don't think it will ever stop feeling strange when I cross paths with maybe-relatives who are interested in knowing me because I'm part of their own story, even if perhaps I'm just a footnote instead of an entire chapter. But even I must admit it's an interesting experience when it happens. At the very least, it gives me something else to write about. What writer couldn't use more of that?