Mud is thicker than Blood

There’s been a fair few times over that last couple of weeks that the conversation naturally drifts towards my family life. And having a somewhat spotty relationship with my mother and having left home at a very young age, I’m understandably hesitant to talk about it. Which of course leads to prying, which leads to me explaining.. Then I’m always met with the same phrase. ‘you’ll make up one day, blood is thicker than water’

I love every member of my family unconditionally. I adore my sister, and my aunt exceptionally despite not seeing them often, I have a complicated relationship with my younger brother and a rapidly crumbling relationship with everyone else in my family and here’s why: I just don’t like them.
We’ve been through stuff and said things and got past it a few times, but because of the people we are, there’s always more mud to sling, always more hurt to take and give. Until eventually you reach your saturation point.
You don’t have to like someone to love them, and sometimes it’s better for both of you to love them from afar.
Blood isn’t always thicker than water, sometimes mud is thicker than blood. And sometimes water is just easier to be around. Sometimes water is there for Christmas and your birthday and the homelessness and the penniless times.

Family can be the problem as much as the solution, so don’t make me out to be the victim of a bad patch that will iron itself out. It won’t get better.

But for the most part, I’m okay with that. That’s my truth.


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