One of the stranger visits home is finally over. I survived.
After the bastard meet-up a week ago, it was all family, all the time. It was nice to see them all. But I won't deny that there were strange moments.
Truthfully, it was a fine visit. I have noticed, however, that the longer I'm there, the more I feel different. It's like my brain changes when I'm home. I begin thinking differently. I fall into old patterns. I feel more distant from the world. I begin shutting myself off from all my emotions.
That last one is just a return to form, but it's not ideal now that Ronni is with me. Shutting down emotionally is not conducive to maintaining a healthy relationship. But this is the habit I'm used to being in with my family. I just get to feeling like I'm walking through a fog. It's hard to think or to stay motivated.
I don't exactly know why. I mean, there are all the obvious explanations for why I was like that when I was growing up. But reverting feels so unsettling when I realize it's going on. It's not their fault, really. They never required this of me. It's just how I reacted to all the things around me.
Still, I love them. And I miss them. My sister and her kids, especially. But my youngest brother also seemed to warm up to me a bit, and that was a nice change of pace.
I'm glad I saw them all. And it was relatively drama-free, for which I'm eternally grateful. But I'm also very glad to be back home. And I feel a little guilty about that, too.
I want to spend one Christmas with my first family at some point, but I don't know how to juggle all of those people. And I know I can't just not see my adoptive family. It's a problem to which I don't see a solution yet.
For now, I'm just glad to have gotten through another visit to my family, and that it went passably well.