When I was a kid, I always wished I belonged to another family. A better family. One that was less like mine. Sometimes I imagined that my real family had misplaced me somehow. Maybe that there had been a horrible switch at the hospital and they’d find me one day. I imagined a sister. A twin. Somehow I was convinced I had a twin out there. Parents who were still married. Parents who were home when I got home from school. A mom who cooked on days that weren’t just Sunday. A dad who actually cared.

There were no step-parents, or step-siblings in my imaginary world. No heartache. No feeling invisible. No feeling like I didn’t exist. Like no one would really notice if I just faded away.

I watched too much television. I saw families on TV and was convinced my ‘real’ family would be like that. Where minor squabbles or issues were solved in 24 short minutes. Where major issues could be solved the next week in 24 more minutes.You know, the: My Two Dads, Fresh Prince, Full House, The Cosby Show, Family Ties; way of life.

I read to escape my life. I was constantly reading at least three books. I spent every waking moment that I could in the pool, because underwater? I was a mermaid looking for my real family. My imagination helped me make it through childhood. My family is not the white picket fence type. Heck, neither of my parents even owned a house during my childhood. Literally, I lived in one neighborhood 8 different times. And surrounding neighborhoods and surrounding cities. We went to the same school, but we moved constantly. My mother is convinced I haven’t painted my house, because I don’t believe that I can. She may be right.

Sadly my ‘real’ family never came to find me. As years have gone on, I’ve realized that I just don’t fit in either side of my family. Sure I can get along at times with most of them,, for short periods of time, but I don’t have a place. I used to have a place in Logan’s family, but I don’t really now either. It’s too uncomfortable for them. It’s too much work. Too much effort. Really? I understand. In a way, it’s too much work for me too.

But I’m back to not fitting in anywhere. And it kinda sucks. Some days I think I fit in online and then others I know I don’t. I’m just too odd; real;  sensitive; depressing;  intense. I spend way too much time up in my head. Take your pick. Don’t suppose it really matters.

Doesn’t mean I won’t keep making a space for myself in this big ole Internet. I will. I also know I don’t really have a place where I fit. I guess in a way, it’s something that I’m used too.

My real family is my kids. My three amazing balls of crazy. They get me. I get them. They are the coolest people I know. But I only have them half the time. They are also just kids. I have a very firm idea on being my kids parent now and their friend later.

I spend too much time alone. I spend too much time online.

Right now? I just feel lost.

I don’t know what to do about any of it. I don’t know that there is anything to do about it. It just is.

Sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I wonder about my imaginary family. If I wasn’t the spitting image (looks and as I hear it, personality) of my great-grandma, I’d consider the possibility that I was switched at birth. I know I wasn’t though.

Maybe one day, I’ll find my place. Hopefully.