On my way home yesterday I contemplated my rueful and irrational emotional state. Finally the root cause of my current anxiety dawned on me. I am not irritated at life in general, I am anxious about my upcoming trip home to Germany to visit family. Now, generally visits to family can be somewhat taxing once a year. Multiply that by 20 and you have the answer.

I haven't been home since 1988; since before the Berlin Wall came down and since before I had my last two children. And yes, that is a long time not to go home.

I grew up in an alcoholic home and spent a good part of my teenage years in and out of group homes for girls (I suppose the equivalent would be the American foster system?). My sister was taken by the state after a particularly brutal beating at my stepfather's hands and I was soon to follow. In essence, our relationship froze at age 9 and 13. I don't think we ever grew past it.

Chronologically we've gotten older of course, but every conversation seems to want to take a turn toward old memories and experiences and nothing good ever comes of it. Hence, I try not to make contact too often. Shame on me, I know. I just can't take the constant bickering, whoa is me and the like.

As kids, we all had our roles in the home. I was the mature one, always cleaning up messes and taking care of things as well as my siblings; my sister was the mouthy and rebellious one (which consequently got her a beating, see above) and my brother, well, he was just a baby. Although he certainly carries his own scars as evidenced by his Satanist leaning tats he wears all over his body now. I digress...

I decided that after almost 20 years it was time to make a visit; show my son around my old stomping grounds and visit my family. My cousin is planning a get together for all the cousins (and there are a LOT of them) and of course my sister was invited as well. Come to think of it, I was a little surprised at the thought since my cousin hated me as a kid because I decided to brush her prized Barbie's hair and summarily was forbidden to ever play with any of her toys ever again! Ha! I digress...

My sister however did not take to it too kindly - the invite to the cousin's meet that is. As a matter of fact, I had to listen to how selfish I am to think that her world stops revolving just because I am visiting after all this time, carrying on about having to care for her cats and needing to work because her life is just so damn shitty.

In essence, I am supposed to feel guilty for moving thousands of miles away, making a life for myself and leaving her to fend for herself and looking after my mother. I always told her to get away from that situation but maybe the role of martyr fits her, I can't really say.

What I do know is that this whole visit is making me anxious. I've distanced myself from that whole mess so long ago, yet now, I feel that black hole of a family trying to suck me right back in. And I am not willing to go quietly; I worked hard to raise myself out of the emotional cesspool of dysfunction. Yes, I've had my battles, made some wrong turns and bad choices - but who hasn't? Overall, I think I've done well - so why should I feel guilty about this?

20 years is a long time to be gone, I know this. I'm hoping that perhaps my visit will at least bridge the gap somewhat and I can connect my son with his heritage, if nothing else. Some things may never change though. I fear that my sister and mother are forever locked into this co-dependent dance that I left behind so long ago.

All I want is some aniseed candy, a Nuernberger brat and maybe some Kartoffelpuffer with applesauce at the Christmas market. That ought to tide me over another 20 years or so....