Finally Telling Family Members and Feeling Genuine

My family spent Thanksgiving with my side of the family, and it was the best Thanksgiving I've had in years. Mostly because one by one, over the last six months, I have told the people I grew up with about my situation. Of course I held some of the ugliness back, but I cried to them and shared how tough things had been and sometimes still are. 

I was vulnerable and humble, which isn't part of the traditional role I have played in my family. If Brene Brown needed anyone to prove her right (which she doesn't), I could do it.  My vulnerability brought me closer to the people I love.

I've missed these people in my life. I've held them at arm's length for the past couple of years, because I wasn't ready to tell them my story. They couldn't ignore my tear-stained cheeks and the anxiety-ridden aura that I had post-disclosure, but I wasn't brave enough to tell them what was happening. It felt too complicated and overwhelming to me.

Initially it was easier not to tell them: I had recovery support from non-family members, women in my situation, who could really understand. As time went on, however, I hated the distance I felt, especially with my sisters. I had allowed this hideous addiction to keep me from some of my favorite people.

This Thanksgiving I am grateful that I could show up at dinner with my imperfect marriage and my wild children and my very odd-looking apple pie and feel genuine. 

 Here's my Thanksgiving math:

Vulnerability + Understanding = More LOVE Than Ever