By Her View From Home 
Since I was a little girl, I dreamed of what it might be like to gain an entire family when I got married. My parents were lovely. I never wanted for anything, and I had very involved grandparents. However, any other family was far away, and much of my childhood was lonely.
I dreamed of brothers-in-law or sisters-in-law and their spouses to do life with. Maybe we would go on road trips together or stay in and play games and have a few drinks. I dreamed of raising our kids together and giving my children the cousin memories I only got once a year. What could be better than a bonus family to love the family you were creating with your spouse and children?
Unfortunately, I wasn’t prepared to feel like I’m not quite a member of the family with my in-laws. The kindest way I would describe how they feel about me is indifferent. I have been with my husband for 20 years, and I have spent a great deal of time with people who don’t really like me.
Whew. That was hard to realize and even harder to accept. They aren’t openly hostile toward me, but there have been many times over the years when tension is the main feeling during interactions. I have tried to foster a connection, and they are simply not interested. Sure, there are times and memories where things are fun and wonderful. But most of the years are clouded with anxiety and sadness. It’s hard to feel jovial when you feel like an outsider (or even worse, when you feel truly unwanted).
I think the biggest source of conflict is that when I married into the family, they expected me to adapt and adopt all of their traditions instead of us merging experiences I brought to my marriage. Instead of allowing my spouse and me to participate with them, with our family, and create our own way, we are expected to do nearly everything their way and on their schedule. From the start, there has not been space for someone to propose new ways of doing things. As the outsider, I am a disruption to their system. You cannot thrive as an in-law if you are made to feel like everything up until your marriage didn’t exist, or isn’t as important. And after you’re married? What if everything you participate in outside of them is ignored? How can you be loved if you aren’t really seen or known?
As in every family, there are sometimes unspoken expectations of how to behave, how to show up, or how to interact. And when someone fails to meet those expectations, it’s a breeding ground for resentment. Instead of open communication, feelings are exposed by snide comments, passive-aggressive commentary, shaming, or guilt.
I feel as if there is a test I am always failing—and I haven’t even been given the questions. Even after so many years, I’m still guessing and playing catch-up on what is appreciated, what’s disappointing, what’s expected, and what’s necessary to prove I care. This leads to knowing there is a problem, but not knowing what it is or how to come together to make things better for everyone. We all end up living in a dynamic charged with resentment, disappointment, confusion, and hurt on both sides.
In my forties, I’ve come to a crossroads on how to approach what comes next. I’ve spent years knocking on the door of acceptance, which has never fully opened. At this point, I doubt it ever will. I have spent so many holidays, so many weekends, and so many vacations trying to repair and invest in the family connections I always hoped for. While I experience our interactions with hope, I truly feel like they make memories with me with tolerance and little else.
Do I want to keep standing on a doorstep begging for inclusion and safety and love for the next 20, 30, or 40 years? I don’t. My in-laws are not bad people, and I don’t want to cut them off, but I want less.
I want less of simply being tolerated. I want less time spent worrying about how I am perceived or what I did wrong this time. I want less of my life spent doing things that truly don’t fill my cup. I wish time with my in-laws did that. I wish they celebrated with me and cared for me and loved me. I wish they saw me as their son does and treated me like family. So from now on, I’m spending more of my life with those who treat me like family, dream with me, hold me when I cry, and open wide the door of their hearts and welcome me in whenever I knock. Because I deserve it, and that’s what makes a family—blood and marriage not required.
by Leslie Deane-Mountjoy 
by Jennifer Bailey 
