It wasn't the first time I wasn't invited to a family dinner. It wasn't the first time my family and I were excluded in a joyous celebration. Yet it hurts so bad. Like, so so bad.
I can never get used to it. I mean, how can one ever get used to being... abandoned?
One might say that, oh, it's a fine dining place and there's no suitable food for kids.
But if they truly care about me, about us, they make an effort, not an excuse.
I've been trying so so hard to find a reasonable explanation but I couldn't. And the more I try, the more heartache I feel. Why am I the one trying to justify the things the did?
They say that kids with grandparents are blessed. I was blessed. I remember vividly how my grandparents loved and spoiled me. Unfortunately, my kids do not have that luxury. Whenever I go home, the only one who's mostly home all the time can be found glued to the TV. The others? Sigh. No one anticipates us. Really. Typing this makes me realized how pathetic it is. I am trying to fight back but my tears just keeps rolling down uncontrollably. And my heart feels like it was stabbed a thousand times.
But no one understands. No one.
The disappointment. The anger. The wave of overwhelming negative and toxic emotions.
But I'm a fighter. I'm a capable and independent individual.
I acknowledge that I'm sad and hurt. I cry, and then move on while the wound is still open and bleeding.
It's ok. I will be ok.
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