Thanksgiving at home was very weird. It felt very foreign, to be home. Home did not feel like home, really. I didn’t really know where anything was anymore and my own dog didn’t recognize me. It took him a while to warm up to me again and even then, his ears weren’t perked up like usual when I neared him. I was basically a stranger to him and he was unsure if I was going to hurt him or not. It made me really sad.
Being at home was so stressful and frustrating. It made me realize how much I like being on my own. And I don’t think that sounds bad or selfish because I’m growing up! I NEED my own space, sometimes I NEED to be alone!
Besides that, we had tamales, pozole, and turkey. Creme brûlée, custard pudding and cheesecake for dessert. It was a huge hassle to make the turkey because we don’t make white people food but ugh we got it as a present from someone so I GUESS we had to make it. Thanksgiving time came along. My grandparents came and my aunt came with my two cousins. It was an OK time. Stressful. I can tell that my grandma’s dementia has gotten way worse since I last saw her. But I mean, it HAS been three months. I wish things didn’t have to be like this. but that’s another story.
We played lotería and gambled money. first twenty-five centy, then fifty cents, and last, one dollar. We played probably ten games total. I never won one single time. I have the worst of luck.
I left “home home” on Saturday because I needed to move into a new dorm because my previous roommates are bitches, as I have talked about them extensively. but anyway. In the timeframe between Wednesday and Saturday, my family members asked me about Jamie but in a condescending way. As if they care about my relationship with them. They’re just looking for something to talk about. Something to talk about because there’s nothing else to talk about in a small town. Shit-talkin two-faced family members. The best kind. The only kind.
The last day I spend with my family. my parents scolded me a lot over what I post on Facebook. They say I shouldn’t try to be an activist or a revolutionary. That I should try to be on everyone’s good side and blahblah. They told me that even though I’m in a bunch of “weird” clubs (LGBT of course is weird in my moms eyes) that I shouldn’t tell my roommate about it. Basically, they were telling me not to be myself. and I came to a new environment to start fresh. To be ME. To start anew. To be able to show parts of me that I wasn’t comfortable showing back in my hometown.
How am I supposed to do so now?
I know that my parents mean well and that they’re trying to protect me but they go about it in the worst ways.
But I already know I’m asking too much when I say, “I wish life was easier.“