What does one do when one (me, in this instance) discovers a HUGE skeleton tucked away in the far recesses of the family's closet?
Well, I didn't so much as discover it as I got hit with the spray from a shotgun blast. To continue with this bizarre metaphor...only the bones of a single finger from the skeleton were used to make the shell that was shot. It was not fired at me, but another family member. I just happened to be close enough when it happened to get the joy of experiencing it along with said family member.
It was just one sentence, used to justify what had appeared to be an overreaction to something that had happened earlier. But that one sentence has totally screwed with how I feel about pretty much my entire life leading up until that moment. I will definitely never give details of it out here. Especially since I have so few. One sentence! I have about 5,000 questions that will probably never be answered.
Thankfully our family has already begun to splinter apart (this is not an immediate family skeleton, but an extended family skeleton that is so old it has begun to decay a bit - probably why it was so easy to grab just a finger for the shell) (omg, this metaphor has to stop). But, yeah - we don't really spend a lot of time around each other anymore. Thank goodness, because I honestly have no idea how to interact with the individuals involved in this story. It's just...mind-blowing.
I hate certain aspects of my family. I hate, hate, hate that we don't communicate. We have unimportant breakdowns in communication all the time, such as trying to organize the food for this past weekend's camping trip. But then there's the big stuff, like this huge friggin skeleton. Or even smaller stuff, like me hiding tattoos from my parents. I never want this with my kids. It's not healthy! I seriously doubt this incident has been discussed among family members for years. It's something that should have required counseling, or therapy, or something. (And maybe it did? I'LL NEVER KNOW.)
And, no, I'm never going to bring this up around the person who dropped the bomb. (And now I've totally switched metaphors!) Because I was, in fact, raised in this family. And we do not talk about things such as this! Just know that I'm going to over-share all over the place with my kids. They're going to be the kids freaking out all the other kids in school, forcing parents to have awkward conversations before they're ready for them. Exactly as it should be.