Buglarian dinners.....

I can honesty say that until I came to Bulgaria I forgot about how wonderful sitting down for dinner with my family was. Eating dinner in Bulgaria is an important event, one that every member of the family is required to attend. I don’t mean this in the negative sense because gathering for dinner is something that is looked forward to and is by no means a dreaded mandatory occasion. It is a time when the family collects together and discusses, argues, and converses about anything and everything important in their lives. Lately when I sit down for dinner with my host family I am reminded of days long ago when I sat down with my own family for dinner to do the same.  Looking back I never really valued these times and I regret that. Until very recently I could not identify with any part of my family. I felt this to the point that I didn’t see any physical resemblance or feel any emotional obligatory identity with these people. I imagine that I had the same connection to my family as an adopted child feels to his or her family. I don’t mean this because I was neglected or mistreated by my parents. On the contrary, I could not of had a better up bringing. Even though my parents split during the first years of my secondary education there was never a vacuum of attention or love. I had, so called, internal demons to deal with that hindered my emotional development beyond the shelter my family could provide in the current society, but the important thing is that they were there and that is more then a lot of people can say. The problem was that I was the one who couldn’t be there, at least with my true self. To a great degree I still feel this, the very few times of the year that we do gather around a meal I cannot be myself. I feel that I can never walk into our Christmas gatherings with my own family and be on the same level as my brothers or cousins, and it hurts. It hurts so much that I recoiled and to the best of my ability disconnected myself from it all.

Bulgarian society pretty much slapped me in the face with that nostalgic feeling of family and meal times with them. I remember a time when I felt on equal footing with my brothers and didn’t feel that dread deep down difference with them. I remember a time when we all sat around that table eating and laughing and just being simple. I don’t think life will ever feel that simple again but at the very least I can spend time with the people who I can call family and melt into a place sheltered from the trials and tribulations life constantly volleys towards us. I know I just got here but I can’t wait to gather with my family after my service in Bulgaria and settle into a meal where the conversation will quickly be forgotten but the warmth from the familiar interaction will live on for so long that it takes a foreign event to recall that nostalgic feeling of belonging to a loving family