“In our family portrait, we look pretty happy.
We look pretty normal, let’s go back to that.
In our family portrait, we look pretty happy
Let’s play pretend act like it goes naturally”

The name of this post is ironic, because I don’t have any of those.

Family portraits, that is. I mean sure, I’ve got that one photo with the three of us in front of the Magic Kingdom, but I don’t have any of those family portraits. You know the ones. Those standard photos where everyone wears coordinated colors. The ones where mom and dad sit in the back begging their children to sit still and smile so they can get a good photo for their Christmas card or wallet or desk at work. Ya, I don’t have any of those. I’ve got plenty of photos with that obligatory Olan Mills logo stamped across the bottom, but all of them are just photos of me.

Things like that never really phased me until last year when I spent Christmas with my boyfriend’s family. They’re so perfect. They take cute family photos together (color coordination in full effect), they have group chats, they sit around the kitchen table looking at baby pictures and laugh about old memories and they even spend their holidays together – as one.

We don’t, but the family photo isn’t what really gets me. It’s what the photo represents.

In my very first post, I talked about being lost and finding myself. Since then, I’ve spent quite a bit of time reflecting on how I got here. What I realize now is that it all boils down to one thing: my family. They were my everything and one day, everything just fell apart. I lost my foundation, I lost my home, I lost everything. I’ve spent the better part of my twenties attempting to retrieve it, but I’ve never really dealt with these feelings.

I guess there’s no time like the present.

“Can we work it out?
Can we be a family?
I promise I’ll be better
Mommy, I’ll do anything.”