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I e-mailed someone over the weekend and when he replied he said "I figured you were with your family for the holidays so I thought I'd wait to write you until you got back." The reality, though, is that I was right here in DC at my home, with my folks 200 miles away at theirs.

Holidays are often time for family, at least that's the tradition, but in my case it's been a time to think about family. Add in a recent funeral and you've got a mix that just screams "think deep thoughts!"

So I did. And I've come to the conclusion my family isn't as important to me as you might like to think.

I was at my parents' home for Thanksgiving last month, for three nights. It was the first time I've been there since April, only the second time since my return from Singapore (though my mom did come up for a few days in July). Just me and my folks. And three nights was all I could do...one more would have been too much.

While there I sent a note to my aunt and uncle who'd moved to Atlanta earlier this year. My uncle had a brain tumor but moved anyway to keep his job, which had moved down south, in order to keep his health insurance (I recently learned that he had the opportunity to stay in Virginia but wanted to go to stay with his friends from work). My aunt replied that if I wanted to see my uncle again I'd better come to Atlanta soon. And I knew right then I probably wouldn't make that trip. As I looked ahead to the month of December I knew getting away for a weekend would be really disruptive to my plans for the month, and so I started looking at just flying down in the morning on a weekday, visiting them for a few hours, then flying back to DC, as soon as work would allow, which would be at least 2 more weeks.

Why didn't I rush right down there? In part, because I can't stand my uncle's wife...she's a nag, she could never hold a job, she's ignorant and racist and a bad mother and she created an extra burden for my uncle for many years because she must weigh over 250 pounds. But I also realized that my uncle and I have drifted apart in the past few years, because he frankly has a lot of those same attributes...I just didn't pay as much attention to them when I was a kid and he was the cool uncle only 9 years older than I. But as an adult, I've found I just can't stand the man he's turned into.

I knew that going down there would be too emotional, and it was something that felt "forced." I realized that, for lack of a better word, my uncle and his wife had become pretty much irrelevant to my life.

10 days later he died. And so I returned to my parents' home for the funeral less than 2 weeks after I'd left, this time joined by my younger brother. I only spent two nights there on this trip, and I knew I wouldn't be returning two weeks later for Christmas. It's not that my parents are bad people, it's just that I am bored silly around them. We have almost nothing in common, and the things we DO have in common are only good for a few rounds of conversation. After that, I just can't stand to be there.

Part of it is being gay, but not being able to talk to them about it (they KNOW, I mean, I lived with Adrian for 5 years, but none of us have ever acknowledged it, and I'm tired of dancing around the issue). Part of it is the fact I've been out on my own for 20 years and have spent most of that time living a thousand or two thousand miles away, and have had my own life while they've had theirs. Part of it is that I've surrounded myself with friends who DO give me the intellectual, emotional, and social stimulation I need, and around them I CAN be myself, so that gives me an alternative to hanging out with my family out in the country. And finally, part of it is the example of my parents themselves. My dad was in the military and we lived all over the country, so just like my parents didn't live near their families and spend lots of time with them, I also have a life that's developed apart from my family.

This will probably leave some of my friends with a sense of disbelief, especially those who live in cultures where it's common to actually live with your parents well into your 20s and even your 30s and maybe even longer. They may think it's sad I don't have more of a bond with my family, but to me it's not sad...it's just normal. And I'm OK with it.

This shouldn't be that big a surprise, I guess. Back in April, when my mom asked about maybe coming up here for a few days, I looked at the calendar and told her there was a weekend in July when she could come but other than that it would probably be October before I could host her again, and even that was iffy. Why? Because my time was taken up with dragon boat, with races, with travel, with birthdays, with holidays...basically, with my friends. It should have been pretty obvious to me who was more important.

It's not that I don't care about my family, and I certainly don't dislike them. It's just that their lives and mine aren't relevant to each other. And while I will make some effort to keep my mom happy (I know she wants a more traditional relationship, which I can't say we've ever really had) there's only so much I'm willing to subvert my life to her wishes. I only get one life, and I'm going to live it as I need to.

So no, I didn't go home for Christmas this year, and I don't see myself doing it much in the future. As one friend put it, "they had you for 22 years...now it's time for the rest of the world to have you."

Labels: Family, Friends, Life