notes on a family reunion
Oct. 12th, 2008 09:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ravenI'm still alive. People may be surprised to know this. But I am. I survived. By Saturday morning, I was hitting a sort of awful plateau - where my brain was splitting at the seams, my family had gone out, I considered staying in bed and didn't, considered living in the bath and didn't, and after a great deal of mental kicking-of-self, went out. I went to News From Nowhere, and then I went up the hill in the rain and then I went to the university Catholic chaplaincy to help - well, not so much help as sit around and wail - ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
forthwritten make a Lancashire hotpot the size of Merseyside. It contained more potatoes than I have ever seen in one place, and was a suitably surreal interlude in my day; they were, she said, in aid of a Lancashire cultural evening, and when I departed, she came with me in search of Fisherman's Friends, which are apparently emblematic of Lancashire culture.
(No, I don't know, either. I have lived on the Lancashire border for a decade. I really don't know.)
So, I wailed atforthwritten. I wailed about how I chose to have a minor nervous breakdown the same week as my family amass, I wailed about how the family reunin was going to be awful, I wailed about having a broken brain, she was very soothing and made me coffee and walked me back into the city. At which point I fetched shimgray and took him home with me and began my own moral degeneration.
...I exaggerate. Actually, the whole thing went enormously better than expected, and my brain didn't break, for three separate reasons. First of all, the relatives were behaving themselves, for given values, and two of my cousins, plus Mani (whom I have written about before as my oldest friend, who kills goldfish and makes me watch America's Next Top Model), were calmly, aggressively sane, and mixed drinks, made me laugh, and were nice to (and approving of)shimgray. Whose presence was, of course, reason number three I didn't have any freak-outs. He, too, appears to have been treated well by my army of relatives: my grandmother cheerfully addressed him in Hindi (and asked why I didn't give him milk in his coffee, had I been a bad girl and forgotten; he smiled and nodded quizzically), and everyone else was either askance and thus polite or cheerfully accepting. At about eleven one of Mani's friends came by to pick her up, came in for cake and other food (god, so much food; a story for another time, the sheer quantity of food) and we were introduced. It amused me that this was the only occasion in the entire evening when he wasn't introduced as "Iona's... friend."
(My favourite incident was one of my cousins happily asking, "Who's the white person in the living room?" Pause, while she catches sight of Shim. "I meant... the other white person. I mean, I didn't - oh, god, that was racist about white people, wasn't it? I didn't mean to be racist about white people!")
(And one of the small children present, upon being asked if she'd travelled anywhere in the world, answered, "Boring places with no toilet paper.")
At three in the morning, it was over, we did it. I did not do the terribly scandalous thing of falling asleep fully clothed on my own bed on top of the covers with my similarly sleepy, on-top-of-covers fully-clothed boyfriend; I got up after an hour, like a good Indian girl, and went and shared with one of the cousins. I guess... that's compromise? Anyway. In the morning there was beautiful sunshine, and my family were sweet and gave us breakfast. (Also, apparently, my mother informed Shim, "You should learn Hindi."
...I just. I mean. Yes. Oh dear.)
In short: 'tis done, and 'twere well it was done quickly.
As for my brain... no, going home was not the best idea I've ever had. It was a good idea for other reasons; it was nice to see people, and it was nice to be in the north. I am still quite seriously depressed, and I don't think the trip home has really alleviated that, although this whole thing being over is a good thing. I need a serious sort of sit-down and think about this, but not right now. One step at a time, as always.
forthwritten make a Lancashire hotpot the size of Merseyside. It contained more potatoes than I have ever seen in one place, and was a suitably surreal interlude in my day; they were, she said, in aid of a Lancashire cultural evening, and when I departed, she came with me in search of Fisherman's Friends, which are apparently emblematic of Lancashire culture.(No, I don't know, either. I have lived on the Lancashire border for a decade. I really don't know.)
So, I wailed at
forthwritten. I wailed about how I chose to have a minor nervous breakdown the same week as my family amass, I wailed about how the family reunin was going to be awful, I wailed about having a broken brain, she was very soothing and made me coffee and walked me back into the city. At which point I fetched shimgray and took him home with me and began my own moral degeneration....I exaggerate. Actually, the whole thing went enormously better than expected, and my brain didn't break, for three separate reasons. First of all, the relatives were behaving themselves, for given values, and two of my cousins, plus Mani (whom I have written about before as my oldest friend, who kills goldfish and makes me watch America's Next Top Model), were calmly, aggressively sane, and mixed drinks, made me laugh, and were nice to (and approving of)
shimgray. Whose presence was, of course, reason number three I didn't have any freak-outs. He, too, appears to have been treated well by my army of relatives: my grandmother cheerfully addressed him in Hindi (and asked why I didn't give him milk in his coffee, had I been a bad girl and forgotten; he smiled and nodded quizzically), and everyone else was either askance and thus polite or cheerfully accepting. At about eleven one of Mani's friends came by to pick her up, came in for cake and other food (god, so much food; a story for another time, the sheer quantity of food) and we were introduced. It amused me that this was the only occasion in the entire evening when he wasn't introduced as "Iona's... friend."(My favourite incident was one of my cousins happily asking, "Who's the white person in the living room?" Pause, while she catches sight of Shim. "I meant... the other white person. I mean, I didn't - oh, god, that was racist about white people, wasn't it? I didn't mean to be racist about white people!")
(And one of the small children present, upon being asked if she'd travelled anywhere in the world, answered, "Boring places with no toilet paper.")
At three in the morning, it was over, we did it. I did not do the terribly scandalous thing of falling asleep fully clothed on my own bed on top of the covers with my similarly sleepy, on-top-of-covers fully-clothed boyfriend; I got up after an hour, like a good Indian girl, and went and shared with one of the cousins. I guess... that's compromise? Anyway. In the morning there was beautiful sunshine, and my family were sweet and gave us breakfast. (Also, apparently, my mother informed Shim, "You should learn Hindi."
...I just. I mean. Yes. Oh dear.)
In short: 'tis done, and 'twere well it was done quickly.
As for my brain... no, going home was not the best idea I've ever had. It was a good idea for other reasons; it was nice to see people, and it was nice to be in the north. I am still quite seriously depressed, and I don't think the trip home has really alleviated that, although this whole thing being over is a good thing. I need a serious sort of sit-down and think about this, but not right now. One step at a time, as always.
