Most of the posts on this blog haven’t been all that personal. Most of the time, the really personal stuff is too painful to put on a public blog so it goes elsewhere. However, this post is going to be more personal. It’s kind of nice to have something personal to blog about that isn’t tearing my heart out or threatening to make my head explode.

This post is about my family and a recent successful attempt to put some bond-o on my relationship with them. When I say ‘family’ here I’m talking about my mother and father. I’ve maintained contact/relations with my mother but I haven’t spoken to my father in probably 8 or 9 months. It’s not the first time I’ve had to break all communication with him but I don’t know if I’ll ever establish contact with him again. Things with my mom have been okay but nothing great. I’ve emotionally distanced myself from her for the last few months – mainly because I didn’t feel safe and I surely didn’t trust either her or my dad.

With that little bit of backstory, know that this recent successful venture was a shopping trip. Now, my mom (or dad) has *never* taken me on a shopping trip – EVER (I’m not counting the required trip to the military exchange to buy school clothes & such). They did a LOT of stuff for my sister and some stuff for my brother but, financially, they’ve done almost nothing for me. There is one exception to that nothing but it was a loan and the resulting bruhaha is what triggered the communication break with my dad. Bottom line is – when my mom asked if she could take me shopping I almost fainted.

The shopping trip was fun – got some new clothes, a new purple comforter, a great little rug and a fabulous mini lavalamp nightlight! She boxed everything up and sent it to me a week or so after I got back here from my trip. I was really nervous because I thought that this big ‘gift’ might have some invisible strings attached and that I might have to engage in more family drama and heartbreak.

That didn’t happen. It was truly a gift, an unconditional gift that she and my dad both gave me. I include my dad because he (apparently) didn’t throw a fit, interfere, or try to re-open our relationship. It was a gift. It the time-honored, American tradition, shopping seems to have helped form a bond that might otherwise not have existed. In a way, it’s sad that the bonding had to happen around material objects but, given my family history, maybe it isn’t so sad. If that’s the way my parents feel they can really demonstrate their love for me, who am I to say that it’s bad?