Catharsis
ca·thar·sis
\kə-ˈthär-səs\
noun
The process of releasing, and thereby providing relief from, strong or repressed emotions.
Family:
I was walking to my aunt's home from work. It was hot. I was tired. I was not in the best mood. You emerged from your group of friends, approached me, and said the most arrogant thing. "You're going to my girlfriend one day." "Whatever," I retorted, while walking away.
My family had recently moved from a home we loved in one town back to an apartment we tolerated in my hometown. The once loving, happy marriage of my mom and step-dad was changing for the worst. Life as I knew it had taken on a different, harsher form, so that day, and most days honestly, I just wasn't in the mood for bullshit.
I ignored you.
Our next interaction happened when you approached me as I was sitting in a car at a gas station waiting for my mom. You, with more humility this time, asked for my phone number. I could tell you were older, so I informed that I was newly seventeen years of age. I must admit that your next move surprised me. You went into the store and asked my mother if you could have my number.
On October 17, 2007, my mom attempted suicide. I was at the hospital, quietly losing my shit, when one of my aunts brought me her cellphone. You were on the other end, and everything you said was something I needed to hear. Not too long afterwards I actually became your girlfriend.
It was a relationship that most people objected to or could not understand. I was a seventeen year old junior in high school with plans for college. You were a twenty-two year old high school dropout who embraced criminality. Our relationship was not all good. You had two stints in jail. We argued about my high school activities and after high school plans. You were overly possessive, jealous, and lost your temper a time or two. We were dysfunctional, but we were family.
You felt like home at a time when home stopped being home. Nothing bad that happened between us can overshadow that and all of the good. I remember how you used to cook my mom these amazing omelettes, and she would actually eat them. Although she lived on Newports and Dr. Pepper at that time, she ate your omelettes! I remember when you and my step dad were trying to teach me how to drive. I panicked and ran into something.
I also remember the difficulties we experienced with my mom when she returned home from the hospital. I remember you saying, "Kechia, that's not Mama. She's not herself right now." You were right. Thanks to that reminder from you all the love, support, and everything my mom got so right as a mother was not forgotten in her moment of crisis.
Those are the things I choose to hold onto. Although ours was an unbalanced, unhealthy relationship, you helped me through the most difficult time of my life. When everything that kept me grounded was falling to pieces, you were there to remind me that I would survive. That's why, to this day, whenever I see you, I still hug your neck. You will always be family to me, and families are not perfect.
