Sorry for the cliffhanger. Wrote a reply, then internet crashed. Thought I saved it, but no. I'll try to retell best as I can...
First to reply to your last post, Patrick, I was coming up with a bunch of excuses why confronting my mother would not work, But I resolved to give it a try. Came home with that in mind and my mother is talking on the phone about this friend who wanted to get a divorce. Their problem: his wife had severe depression and her behaviour had changed. My mom says, "Well, it's a kind of crazy." Hmm, I decided it wasn't the best time for me to confess. Maybe I could have "set her right" before, but I am such a coward now.
(Next day, leg injury and lots of painkillers.) One more day to go, then, "What! They're coming today!?" Fast forward to time they're supposed to arrive and then add two hours before the first arrivals--which helped. Because there were a lot of people, I wasn't so bothered for conversation and it helped that none of my family chose to pick on me. I'd gone to my room when talk turned to politics. As other people began to arrive, I went out to greet them. Said, "Hi" then "Bye," turned around and went back to my room. Okay, that was weird and I silence behind me. After an hour, went out again.
It went a little better then. More people, some I could feel comfortable around. Mostly, I spent time harassing my younger cousins. Ate really fast. Some people were hurt at my distance. Forgot one of my uncle's name, couldn't look him in the eye at all. I pretended not to hear sometimes. Moved--limped (an injury is a great help)--aimlessly around a lot. (Can't remember all the details.) Since no one likes to drive in a Canadian winter, people left early. I was really happy to see them go.
So how was it? It was painful, very very painful. They didn't gang up on me but it wasn't comfortable. It wasn't a total nightmare, but it didn't get to the point of being okay.
(That was pretty much what I'd written a long time ago, but since then, that day has become depressing: Everything I thought people would say/complain about was said, just behind my back.)
But the best part of the whole experience was this new feeling I had of being supported. Each time, I retreated to my room, there was another tip to try before I could give up. It gave me a certain buoyancy to know that there were people who understood what I was going through and wished me well. It was really nice.
Thank you, invisible friends.