I don't like family gatherings. This is not an uncommon statement by any means, but my reasons for not liking them are probably a bit different when compared to that of the common man. I'm sure most people dread such events because there's always that family member that no one can stand, but who is inevitably invited to every family gathering out of necessity. That person is family, and therefore must be included even if everyone hates them.

There's a twinge of irony in that, for me.

For myself, I don't like family gatherings because my family really doesn't know or understand me. I will be the first person to admit that mostly, the reason for that is my own fault. There is obviously no reason why I couldn't let them know who I really am, aside from my own unwillingness and fear of doing so. That fear being the fear of becoming the person that I mentioned up in paragraph one. That would be the irony I was talking about.

Do I know for sure that it would happen? No, of course not. But that doesn't stop the anxiety when I think about it. Typically, it didn't much bother me that my family doesn't really know who I am. Not until recently. And this is the part of the whole thing that has be intrigued, and has had me analyzing it. Why does it sort of bother me now?

It's probably a combination of things. It could be that as I'm getting older, I'm desiring more and more to act like myself. It could be that after years of typically not saying more than 5 words to my family members, I would like to be able to carry on conversations with them if they would accept me. It could be that after being brutally honest with a few other friends in my life, that I would like to continue the trend with everyone else.

While all of those are probably true in a way, I think there's one other reason. And, I think it is the main reason.

I lost a friend, recently, and I lost this friend because I wasn't honest with them. There were other contributing factors, but I firmly believe the lack of honesty was the main reason for the destruction of the relationship. The reason I was not honest with them is because I believed everything would be much better if I wasn't. And for the longest time, that was true. But then they started to make incorrect assumptions. They started to (and probably still do) believe that I was just naturally a liar and two-faced. And, no matter how much effort I put forth, and no matter how honest I was with them after they started believing that, it didn't matter.

I also understand, however, that if this person would have had any shred of maturity, or even any bit of understanding of my situation, things would not have concluded the way they did. But it doesn't make it any easier, and it doesn't stop me from wondering what I'm supposed to do.

My feelings are mixed. In one sense, this whole situation has given me a desire to be more open and honest. In another sense, it has made me want to construct even larger barriers. And in the end, I'll probably end up in the middle where I've been my entire life -- putting everyone on a need to know basis. And most people don't need to know.

I feel better now though, because writing about something always helps me.