I have just come off of the first gap I’ve had in posting these posts. It isn’t that I’ve lost interest in the subject or the blog, but sometimes I just have to take a step back.

Looking back at my ancestors is more than looking back at a bunch of names photos. One of my favorite aspects is connecting the names to the faces, but it can also cause me a lot of anxiety. I’m a naturally inquisitive person so I make it my mission to find as many details I can about my ancestors. I research and follow their movements so close that I get attached, in a way, to these people I have never met. From their birth to death, I search for everything. And sometimes it just all piles up.

I’ve always been a nervous person, or maybe anxious is a better word. I’ve also always seemed to surround myself with death, or things related to death. I’ve always loved murder mysteries, I am an avid watcher of Investigation Discovery and true crime documentaries, and true crime podcasts. Along with that goes my genealogy research. My research has brought up some sad material many times. From news articles about my three times great grandfather being electrocuted to death while working to another about my great-great grandmother’s cousins being involved in a car-on-train accident that killed two in the car while the other two were serious injured. Bertha Zelma Smith was only 14 when she died. That article in particular described the anguish the family was feeling in detail. That on top of plane crash deaths, family abandonment, abuse allegations and a mile-long list of illness-caused death for even young children eats away at optimism I held for whatever family group I’m investigating. Coupled with frequent trips to cemeteries, sometimes on a treasure hunt in the last place I knew someone was to have lived, it’s like I’m constantly surrounded by death and depressing statistics. It’s heavy stuff; it’s hard not to see just how fragile life is. It’s hard to not put myself in their place, not to let my anxieties get to me. I stress out, I freak out, and then I take a break and calm down. After 11 years of this, it’s become a routine of mine.

Maybe it would help if I didn’t get so emotional investided in these people. Maybe I should watch the Animal Planet instead of Investigation Discovery.  I could list maybes all day but I think it would be easier for everyone if I just chill out every once in awhile and focus on my cat and my boyfriend. Because even amongst all of the sad and tragic of the past I have floating in my head there are the positive things I have to hold as well. 

This weekend, my boyfriend and I went garage sale-ing. I found some Vera Bradley for a steal, a birthday present for my mom, and we managed to find one of those double papasan chair frames for basically nothing. We got lunch with my sister at a new restaurant and then next weekend we’re going to the zoo with my cousin and her beautiful baby girl. My new glasses come in next week. Also, my cat is still adorable. 

And I’m one step closer to finishing the family book.

Life is good, the past is the past, and I am going to be okay.