How do you even begin to tell a story when wounds are much too deep? When you have no idea when an issue even began, or what event turned things around to make one give-up and take that final step.
Not long ago, a family member dare question if I truly loved my father and that if I truly did, then I was supposed to follow in their lead. In their minds, they firmly believe that what that they are doing is the right thing. In order for me to do something like that, I am to turn my back on everything that I have believed in and forget the person that I am.
I have to learn the art of pretending. Of which I would never do.
I find it to be quite disturbing that their notion of the right path would include crossing lines, sneaking around, hushed whispers of gossip and decisions made by only the few supposedly wise members of the family. I haven't even delved on the topic of respect or perhaps the huge lack of it. They speak of acceptance and yet they turn a blind eye when the same is asked from them. It would seem that their notion of "family" is limited only to those whom they deemed deserving to belong with them.
So I chose to cut my ties. Watched it all fall away.
Nothing grand was lost. No life-altering moment. No sadness nor grief.
In fact there was peace.