Island

I was thinking about family this holiday season. I love my family and I hope to have one eventually. But why are they so necessary to happiness? I am going to spend Christmas morning serving in a homeless shelter. I could spend it with many people who have offered, but I don’t really want to. I feel closer to my family working at a shelter. When I was young, My parents would go every Saturday morning and we were eventually allowed to join helping cook and serve lunch for hundreds of people. We usually had to pour drinks, but that was fine. Rachel and I switched off at who got to go. Yes, going to a homeless shelter was the ultimate treat on Saturday mornings! But I always enjoyed those times just giving juice to people. I brought them a slight amount of happiness with no emotional commitment. That’s probably why I like acting as well: bringing people a slight amount of happiness without any emotional commitment. Just serving on Christmas makes me think that I should have been serving all year. I know there’s usually not enough time to commit during the school year, but I am going to Draper four times a week for three hour long rehearsals each time. It makes me think about how skewed my priorities are. Maybe it was the many years of therapy, but I have looked for ways to make me happy, not as much other people. This is probably because I now know that I have no control over the emotions of others and cannot make them happy no matter how hard I try. I think this belief has lead me to give up trying to make other people happy. I did try to make my Grandmother as happy as possible, but that was because she was sad and dying. Also she liked me to try to make her happy. But I can still make people happy as long as I remember to not try to validate myself through people’s happiness. I now try to validate myself through theatre, which is not good either. But I will not be able to be with my family until Christmas night, if the weather does not delay my plane flight. And my entire family will not be gathered this Christmas anyway. My Dad is in China working and Mario and Will will not be coming. I wonder if they will ever come to another Christmas?

So why does being with my family make life seem more whole? Is it because I grew up with them and childhood years are supposed to be happy? Is it because they are supposed to love me? No, its because they know me. They know the parts of me I don’t like people to know. They know the secrets behind the open book. They know the bindings and the glue the book was made of, hidden underneath. Also, I know them. It is not exactly safe though having people know you. Sometimes they know you and still do not necessarily understand you. They can hurt you more deeply with this knowledge than anyone else could. But still they are people that belong to us. We have a claim over them, and they have claim over us. It is wonderful belonging to people, but at the same time it is horrible. We want to make them happy and we tie ourselves up with them so there is no disentanglement. But as a part of them we are happier and make them happier. No one, besides sociopaths, can exist alone in the world. So, I guess no man is an island, except for people like the Unabomber, who I’m glad is an island.