I wonder about the people in my life Lately

Thoughts and Prayers

Family. Sometimes, I genuinely wonder why it even exists. Who thought this whole "relatives" thing was a good idea? I mean, was there some ancient council where they decided, "Hey, let's create a group of people who feel entitled to criticize your life choices, all while sharing your DNA and last name"? Honestly, I don't get it. I remember back in school when we had to do a family tree project. Naturally, I handed in my masterpiece-a tree that consisted of just me and my dad. The teacher asked if I understood the assignment. Oh, I understood it perfectly. That was my family tree. What followed was a good amount of lesson from the family tree ì forgot and a recommendation for counseling.

I've always been a big fan of solitude. I mean, who in their right mind would willingly walk up to a lion that's ready to devour them? Unless, of course, you've got a death wish or a really good camera. That's pretty much how I feel about family gatherings-walking into a den of judgmental lions. I prefer my peaceful distance. So, when I started getting those dreaded family calls, I knew it wasn't going to be good news. Spoiler: It was worse.

With my mom, it's always the same. Our relationship is like a bad rom-com where enemies pretend to be friends for the sake of the plot. We're more like those in-laws you secretly want to strangle, but can't, because, well, prison. Our conversations are predictable. "Hello?" "Hello. Why don't you pick up?" "I didn't see it." "Oh, you're busy?" (Cue sarcastic tone ) I want to say so many things, but religion and decency tell me not to, so instead, I clench my teeth. "No, I didn't start work. What do you need?"

And then, like a grim shopping list: "Your cousin is getting married, our neighbour from where we use to live is dead, and your childhood friend is also getting married." Wait... so that's almost four weddings and a funeral? Where's Hugh Grant when you need him?"

I can't come. I'm busy.

"Apparently, that's the equivalent of asking for divine retribution because suddenly, my mother transformed into a high-pitched banshee: "You want me to die, don't you?! What am I supposed to tell everyone? You just want them all to hate me! Oh, God, what did I do to deserve this?" And there I was, sitting silently, knowing that saying anything would just make it worse. So, I waited for the storm to pass. Eventually, she finished her dramatic outburst with, "Josephine, I better see you there."

The thing about family events is they're just glorified job interviews where no one's hiring. Everyone's only asking how you're doing so they can assess whether you're winning or losing at life. And no matter what, they're never happy with the answer. If you're winning, they hate you. If you're losing, they pity you-which is worse. Either way, they just want to use you as a benchmark for their own lives.

So, somehow, I ended up agreeing to attend both a funeral and a wedding. Fun times ahead.

Sometimes, I wonder if I'm even part of this family by some divine mistake. Was there a celestial mix-up? Maybe God was having an off day when assigning families. But, you know, they say, "God doesn't give you more than you can handle." Or... whatever that saying is. (Honestly, I think God overestimated me.)

Here's how I imagined this whole "attending family events" thing would go: I'd show up at the church, make sure the relatives saw me, and then slip away quietly. Funerals are basically a checklist-show up, look sad, say goodbye to someone you barely knew. Easy enough. Then, I'd sneak into the wedding reception without bumping into too many people. But, of course, life had other plans. The universe must have found my little scheme hilarious because suddenly, I was Harry Potter hearing voices in Parseltongue. Only this time, it was my mother's voice, and let me tell you, that's way scarier than any snake. She spotted me from across the room like a heat-seeking missile. And just like that, my stealth mission was over.

Here's the thing: my mother would rather please strangers than ever prioritize me or my siblings even her emergency contact (which is my dad by the way,ì mean who better to priortize than this but not her). When we were kids, she ran our house like a boot camp. We had to be polished, shined, and perfect before facing the world. Nothing was ever good enough unless she had perfected it.

It always started the same: "Wake up, brush your teeth, wash your face." You'd think that was simple, right? Wrong. The amount of water you used had to be perfect-too little, and your face was "dry and flaky," too much, and you were "greasy and disgusting." Button-up shirts had to be buttoned all the way to the top, and walking? Straight as an arrow. God forbid you shuffle your feet. Even eyebrows had to be perfectly in place, even though I hadn't started threading them. If one stray hair appeared, out came her wet finger, ready to smooth it down like she was saving me from the ultimate disgrace. Oh, and don't get me started on the friends I was allowed to have. Basically, none.

Of course, I arrived on time at the funeral. Showed my face, gave my condolences-just like a good little soldier. Checked in with my mom to confirm that I had made an appearance. Then, I got the classic, "Don't disappear before the wedding" warning. Sure, Mom. Message received.

I showed up at the wedding in my trusty black spaghetti-strap dress-the same one I wore on my last date with my ex. Great memories. But, it was the only decent thing I owned at the moment. I looked... not bad. Hair curled, cherry-tinted lips, small earrings to prove I still had ears, and medium heels-perfect for making a quick escape if necessary.

As I entered, the room was buzzing with little gossip groups. Cue the endless chorous of "well ,Hello","How are you?" ,"How's work?", "Do you have a job yet?","when is your weeding ""You're next, right?"

It's like they all had the same script, and they were determined to perform it. I smiled through it all, giving my rehearsed responses and resisting the urge to say what i was really thinking.
Then i sat down at my table, wondering how much longer would this charade làst.

And then, the bride arrived. Flanked by two kids, led by her father in this sweeping ivory gown, walking toward my cousin, who was standing there at the altar, probably sweating through his suit. Cue the romance.

As i watched the whole scene unfold, i couldnt help but wonder....should i just accept life like him? My cousin has no real job. He works at a small shop his dad opened for him, barely scraping by, living in his parents' basement, and now his bride would probably move in there too. Should I just live this shitty life (i am living it anyway) bound by mom's rule book? Maybe should i forget about all my ambtion and just be a housewife,stuck in mediocre life,wondering what could have been.

But then again, maybe all of this is just the universe's way of teaching me something-like what really matters in life. And as I sat there, I wondered... maybe it's time to figure out exactly what that is.