The Writings on the Wall - The Truth About Moving On

That title isn't a typo. Usually, the phrase “The writing’s on the wall” is a warning, a sign of what’s coming.

But this ain’t that.

Last weekend, I impulsively booked myself a hotel room, thinking I was taking a sabbatical. I needed a break, just a few days to myself where I could reset and bask in silence.

Instead, I just ended up all alone with the same old thoughts about everything that’s been changing in my life lately, whether I’m ready or not.

So, I wrote. What follows is a collection of thoughts, so it’s not so much a neat "family estrangement and dysfunction" essay, but the cleaned-up version of what came to mind as I free-wrote.

I call it the writings on the wall.  

Marcus Aurelius (the G.O.A.T.) said: To offend a strong man, tell him a lie. To offend a weak man, tell him the truth.

I’ve caught a lot of secondhand flak (because no one will say it to me directly) for writing about dysfunction. Not because what I wrote wasn’t true, but simply because I wrote about its impact in the first place.

I write about my lived experiences. And God knows, I’m not perfect either. When I think back on the stupid things I did years ago (hell, hours ago), I cringe.

But trust me, it’s gonna make great material for future stories. Maybe you’ll laugh at my ignorance and feel a little better about your own.

Real dysfunction leaves damage, and part of moving on is getting through it.

I remember what family used to be for me.

Holiday events at my grandparents’ home weren’t fancy, but we looked forward to them. We looked forward to being together, playing games, eating great food, being silly, and sometimes being raucous.

Then my grandparents died, and all of those moments became distant memories as my family fell apart.

When I married my husband, I thought maybe I’d found it again. He had a family I couldn’t wait to be part of.

I wanted to learn their stories, celebrate milestones, and create memories. And with some of them, I did from the start.

But over time, they peeled away one by one. Bias and immaturity. Arrogance. Perceived slights and stale grudges.

That “big happy family” I’d envisioned dissolved. Then I realized it never really existed outside my own wishful thinking.