But what if you weren’t playing a game?

Jun 21

A reflection on chosen family, congruency, and what happens when you stop performing

don’t want to read? Listen along here.

I attended the third Next Generation Art Club.

This is a gathering of some of my cousins, honoring the tradition my Grandma started with her friends and my aunts.

For context, my mom is one of ten, and I grew up one of the youngest cousins in a family with over 30 first cousins. Like any large family, there are groupings.

In my original group, Marylin is tied for the oldest and hosted candle making.

My other two cousins married in and therefore joined my new cousin grouping.

This is a lot of family-of-origin info for a newsletter, but as a neurospicy therapist obsessed with congruency, context matters.

I share all this to say that growing up, I was very close to my cousins, but as we got older, I was not often with my mom’s side.

So I can feel awkward at family events in a way I don’t feel on my dad’s side, because it is way smaller, and starting in 8th grade, my Gma lived with us, and therefore I interacted with this side so much more.

Because of anxiety and other family dynamics, I would not always “know how to act,” which is silly because I know the best way to act is congruently, but I digress because again, anxiety exists.

So in January, when we held the first gathering with only three of us—what Marylin’s daughter (also in attendance this time) named “Art Club” (Next Generation comes from two of us being Star Trek nerds)—I was nervous.

Full-body, I don’t even want to go nervous. I even knew, as my emotional support boyfriend walked me into my own cousin’s house, that the feeling didn’t match the reality.

Nonetheless, I could feel it: I am about to enter a game I forgot the rules to, or so my false narrative tells me.

Because anytime I actually show up to an event and any cousin is there, we immediately act like it hasn’t been 2 years since I’ve seen them.

But the scared younger me that didn’t always know it would be a kick-ass time still showed up…

Now we are on the third one, and I damn well know this is the only thing currently in my life I am willing to leave my house for at 7 pm.

Because I KNOW I will enjoy every moment of saying whatever comes to my mind with no shame or embarrassment, and I will come home feeling reenergized and whole.

And some may say, “well that’s what family does,” and to that I say “not all family.”

Because I have many personal experiences of feeling drained by family relationships, and I know so many of you get that.

And I am of the mindset, “blood is thicker than water.”

But Candiceeee, family is blood! Blood is the most important bond!!

And that is where I continue to disagree with you…

I am referring to “The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb” and my belief in chosen family.

Not all souls we have chosen to be family live in our bloodline.

I feel energized because I am with my chosen family. People who accept me unmasked and even performative. I know I will be congruent and authentic in those moments, and I will feel energized for days after.

This brings up the introvert vs. extrovert question, because there is a difference between feeling drained by people and feeling drained by acting incongruently, by performing instead of being.

On the way home, my cousin and I were talking at high ADHD speed, reflecting on all of this. And she said:

“But what if you weren’t playing a game?”

In the middle of talking about how good it feels to be authentic and not drain ourselves performing for others, I shared how I sometimes feel like an alien in a human suit. She understood completely.

When I said I feel drained playing 3D chess while other people play checkers, she didn’t hesitate:

“But what if you weren’t playing a game?”

And that stopped me in a way that often only happens in therapy—when something lands fast enough to bypass overthinking and hits something deeper.

And now I’m left with a very simple, very uncomfortable reflection:

What if I’m not playing at all?

What if the “game” framing is what creates the separation, creates a false narrative of me versus them, effort versus ease, performance versus authenticity?

And maybe the more congruent choice isn’t to wish others played better…

But to stop playing altogether.

Somewhat Congruent,

Candice