WASTED YOUTH

When I was very young I did not appreciate the excessive amount of energy that I had despite lack of sleep. I did not value my teenaged idealism. I thought that good people doing good deeds would change the world for the better. I did not fully realize my lack of responsibility and stress during college.

Lots of people took advantage of my naïveté. They mocked, ridiculed, and humiliated me for not knowing. I had to adopt some stoicism to protect my heart. I could not blindly trust others anymore. Sad for me but required for survival. Adulthood is what I yearned for and was disappointed after attainment. It is a difficult struggle to seek optimism and hold onto a few strands of idealism in a harsh negative world.

I have met several teenagers who make life miserable for the people who love them. They should stretch their wings of independence but they don’t need to be so mean or vicious. My niece said and did a lot of hateful things. She was so desperate for attention that she convinced a guy that she was pregnant and then didn’t actually get pregnant for a couple months after the “fact.” He was obviously not very bright to have unprotected sex with her and not question an eleven-month gestation. She had another child and they married. They are still a couple but haven’t lived together for two years, largely because he is an alcoholic. She and the kids reside with my sibling #2 and hubby, which makes all the adults miserable. My sister doesn’t want to kick out my niece because the grandkids would suffer more. A bad situation caused by a young adult who wanted to prove that she could hold onto a relationship. It’s the innocent children who will continue the pain.

We humans have to wise up and stop this stupidity. To purposely harm others, especially those who are vulnerable, is reprehensible. The old adage, “What goes around, comes around” is true. When you do bad deeds, those bad deeds will come back to you or else harm the people that you care about somehow. I don’t believe in fate but I do believe that like attracts like. When you do good, good will come back and visa versa. It may not be obviously apparent but it seems to happen.

I wish that I would have jumped over my fears and taken more risk as a young adult. I should have traveled, lived on every continent, and had many lovers. I was too afraid. However, I refuse to fall into the well of sorrow or regret, that is tantamount to self-torture. No, I’m not dead yet. I have made the choice to have a home and be the personal assistant to two felines. I love to garden, read, partake in the arts, and blog but yearn for something more. It would be splendid to have the money to travel, live elsewhere, and collect lovers. Right now money is my main problem. I don’t know why I haven’t been able to attract lovers or a better job that is for other blog entries.

Carpe diem!
Copyright © 2014 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved

FAMILY KRYPTONITE, PART II

My biological family is terribly dysfunctional, as you probably have already surmised from my previous writings. Our parents tried their best but my dad is a bully and my mom was a manipulator. He yelled and she cried, though Alzheimer’s destroyed that part of her personality a couple years ago, hence, the past tense. We may have recovered from this environment but a predator caused further damage. My step-grandfather sexually molested my siblings and I. The result is abysmal. I am the only person who sought counseling for the abuse and my sisters hate me for it.

I can’t permit myself to care about my biological family because they wound me so deeply. I strive to ignore them but my family really rattles me because they constantly criticize. No matter what I do, it is wrong, according to my sisters. They scapegoat me for stuff that I don’t even do. I’ve laughed about it but it really does bother me. I would like to cut off all contact. I think that the root of the problem is that none of my siblings have ever dealt with their childhood sexual abuse. They don’t realize that the pain and fear has morphed into anger and directed at me because I did seek counseling. The abuse will always haunt me but it doesn’t control me anymore. They should be angry with the deceased perpetrator, not me.

As our parents aged, I urged them for years to sell the house. My mother’s health has taken a turn for the worse so she is in hospice now. Two years ago sister #2 rented a dumpster and commenced to throwing out items without showing our parents the content of the boxes. My parents were upset but didn’t tell her. I urged them to be honest. They wanted to see what was thrown out and slow down the pace a little. They told her and she sent me a nasty email, which she shared with others. I’ve received a response from another sibling but I won’t open it because it will only upset me. Sister #1 is the Queen of Hate and #2 is close behind. I have decided to never respond to any of their emails. I don’t need to accommodate them so that they feel vindicated. I wish that I could afford an attorney and “divorce” the family.

Holidays complicate the issue. I fear that sister #2, her hubby, and two adult kids with spouses will gang up on me. Fear absolute fear is my response. Their words do cut and harm me. If I am ever murdered, it will be by a family member. I began avoiding holidays about ten years ago. The last holiday that I attended was horrific. I feel especially vulnerable since I have been unemployed and underemployed for a long time. My sisters erroneously believe that my parents are paying the bills. No beau to provide me comfort. Most of my friendships have become tacit. Old friends are busy with their lives and don’t seek constant contact. I have become more active in a faith community but it takes time to build relationships.

I don’t have many financial assets but I do have a Last Will and Testament. My closest friend, Allie, is the executor. She is my Logical Family, my family of choice. My parents and a few friends receive 10% each but I am thinking about removing my parents, especially since the money would either be directed to medical bills or into the pockets of my sisters. Plus, I want to make certain that my siblings get nothing. My nieces/nephews get 5% and grand-nieces/nephews get 2% each but I wonder if they should be removed, too. I have designated a charity to receive the remainder and perhaps I will just cut out the family entirely and give everything to friends and charities. I need to add the cats and some funds to take care of the felines for the rest of their lives.

Logic wins over bio any day!
Copyright © 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved

DYSFUNCTION JUNCTION CLAN

My mother has always been a bit “flighty.” She was considered to be of lesser intelligence. My father and sisters derided this trait. I considered it a ruse because she really was smart but did not show it on purpose. My father is the domineering type and would be threatened by her brain. She submitted since she did not want a divorce like her parents.

About ten years ago my mom became absent minded. She would occasionally forget things and would be easily distracted. She was in her late 60s so no one was worried. About six years ago the condition became worse and I urged my dad to get her to a doctor. The regular doctor was an idiot and he finally took her to Mayo Clinic. She was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s or a related dementia in 2009.

Mom was angry and denied that the doctors could be correct. It took her almost two years to finally accept that she was “losing her mind.” Her sister has Alzheimer’s. Dad was angry that he would have to take care of her. He blamed her and was rude. He implied that she got sick on purpose. I convinced him to attend a support group and he has finally accepted the prognosis. Unfortunately, his health is becoming frailer.

I live a couple hours away and call every week or so to check in. I always offer to come down and help with whatever they need. My sister #2 lives in town but her hubby despises our parents so she doesn’t see them very much except during times of need. I haven’t had a good relationship with my sister for about a decade. Our oldest sister makes up lies about me and has managed to alienate me from the family. I get along with our parents but I don’t even attempt to contact my sisters. No matter what I say or do, its wrong.

This all came to a painful point last year. Mum hasn’t been feeling well for months. I kept urging dad to take her to the doctor to talk about exhaustion but he wouldn’t. Neglect, maybe. She stopped eating and wouldn’t get out of bed. Emergency room. Diagnosed with pneumonia. Wrong. Diagnosed with blood clots in legs and lungs. Life threatening situation. She spent three days in the hospital and was released with intensive blood thinners. Factor V diagnosis.

I spoke with dad daily and he wanted me to come down after she was released. I made the plan. My sister then called and started yelling at me. She screamed that we were “at war” and that I “hated her husband” neither of which are true. I feel apathy for her and her husband, which is probably worse than acrimony. I asked her to calm down and said that she was over-reacting. I told her that I take orders from dad not her. Oops. She screamed, “You’re an asshole.” I hung up.

With great trepidation I traveled to my parent’s home. My sister is volatile and her family has guns. I am afraid of them. I am in fear that they will shoot me. I helped my parents that afternoon and my sister came over during supper. I was grilling outside when she came out. Panic. At least I had the meat pitchfork to defend myself. She didn’t mention the horrible conversation and was almost demure. I told her again that I was there to help mom and dad with whatever they needed.

I stayed busy with grocery shopping, cleaning the bathroom, washing clothes, baking, and other chores. Mom needed help to the bathroom and bed. We had to keep her awake and entertained because she wasn’t supposed to sleep too much. She was on oxygen and that was the biggest challenge to refrain from tripping on the cord. The machine made a loud whirring noise so it was stored in the bathroom. It was a big production to get her to the clinic for a two-day check-up and determine her blood-clotting factor. It was up to 1.7 and they wanted it above 2.0.

All went well until the morning of my departure. At 4:30am mom got up to go to the bathroom. She went okay and was returning to bed when she lost her balance and feel down next to the bed. I heard a noise and went running into the room. Dad and I had been sleeping. Thankfully, she wasn’t bleeding and seemed okay. I was worried because she will bruise due to the medication and could bleed internally. I asked dad about calling the hospital and he said no. I helped mom into bed and hoped for the best.

I was too upset to sleep so I packed my gear. I waited until mom was awake at 7am and checked for bruising and tenderness where she fell. Great sigh of relief that all seemed fine. I was jittery so I departed. I was so happy to be returning to my home. I am poor, underemployed, and lonely at times but at least I feel better when away from them. I have an intense fear reaction to my siblings who are bullies. They are kryptonite to my self-esteem. They have husbands and children to back them up. I have friends but my friends would not join me for family events.

Utterly exhausting experience. I was rattled from the unrelenting stress. I knew enough not to isolate or I would fall into depression. I joined my book-club for lunch and friends for dinner. I had to talk about the trauma. I had to get it “out” and writing is helpful, too. I mourn for a positive relationship with my siblings. It pains me to be distant from them, my nieces-nephews, and grand-nieces/nephews. I am not perfect but I have done nothing to deserve this treatment. I’ve tried to mend relationship with my sisters but they won’t listen. I gave up. I might as well be an only child. It hurts to be so alone.

Family divorce needed.
Copyright © 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved.

MAMA MIA

Dementia is insidious. Obviously, it is detrimental to the patient but it also affects all who care about that person. My mother was diagnosed with dementia a few years ago. Mom said that it would be better to have terminal cancer than Alzheimer’s and sadly, I must agree. She was angry about the prognosis because the medical researchers know very little about the cause, cure or even how to slow down the decline of mental capabilities. Dad became resentful because she was his servant for fifty years and now he has to take care of her.

It has been awful watching her personality disappear. The sparkle in her eyes only appears on occasion and the silences are increasing. She retains a little information but repeats the same question over and over again. I urged my father to place a chalkboard in the living room, where they spend the majority of their time, with the answers to most of her frequent questions. He had to procure a larger board because the questions have increased beyond the day of the week and date on the calendar. I’m sure it is annoying to endure the questions every day.

Sibling Number Two is a Licensed Practical Nurse and has worked at several nursing homes. She has taken charge of our parent’s care. She also lives nearby and has a couple kids who can help her on occasion. I acquiesce because she has professional expertise that I lack. However, they have ignored my suggestions to enroll Mom in dementia medical trials at the nearby Mayo Clinic. Mayo is one of the top medical institutions in the world and has a top-notch research wing. It is wrong not to take advantage of that resource.

During a recent trip home my Dad went to run errands and I stayed with Mom. We had just eaten breakfast and she wanted to go back to bed. Silly me, I should have gone along with her wish but I encouraged her to walk around a bit. She has always liked to sleep nine hours per night but now sleeps for twelve hours and naps a lot during the day. She walked about ten feet into the kitchen and started to get wobbly. I pulled up a chair and she sat down. She became limp and listed over. I managed to catch her and in about a minute she regained consciousness but was too woozy to stand. I pulled up a chair and sat with her.

My Dad had told me about her shaky spells so I didn’t call 911. They have been happening for nearly a year. This was my first personal experience with the condition. She is able to hear but loses all muscle tone and collapses. The episode tends to last a minute or two and then she is fine. Unfortunately, this was not the case. She would be chatting and then become limp over and over again. Sometimes, her leg would shake or she could slightly move her arm but she wasn’t able to control her body. She’d wake up enough to state, “This is the pits.” I wanted to have her lie down on the kitchen floor but she refused. I knew that I did not have the strength to carry her to the bedroom especially since I still am in pain from the whiplash.

Dad returned home about ten minutes after the attack began. He wanted to move her to the bedroom because she always got better after sleeping. We transferred her to sit in a walker with wheels (they don’t have a wheelchair) and moved her down the hallway. We got into the bedroom and were about to convey her to the bed when she went limp and slid out of the chair. I caught her so she didn’t fall down hard. A hard fall could result in broken bones or a concussion.

Dad called my sister who had worked the night shift and was sleeping. She came over and Mom was able to get up off the floor. They slowly moved her out to my sister’s car and to the hospital. I drove separately. I needed to because I began to cry. When Mom was lying on the floor I knew what she would look like in her casket. She has always been supportive of me. Once she dies, my connection to the family ends.

It was a quiet morning at the Emergency Room. The Medical Technician took blood and urine samples. Mom’s blood pressure and oxygen levels were monitored. Her blood pressure dropped when she sat and especially when she stood and her oxygen was down a bit. A saline solution intravenous drip was attached and oxygen administered through a nose tube. She had previously worn a heart monitor for a few days but it showed no abnormalities. Thankfully, Mom wasn’t upset but she did seem a bit confused. As long as Dad and my sister were there, she was calm. My neck began to spasm, probably due to the stress.

Eventually, the Doctor came in to make an evaluation. A Medical Scribe accompanied her. He typed away as she spoke with my Mom, sister and Dad. My sister had told me to “shut up” earlier so I remained silent. The tests showed that Mom was a bit dehydrated but there was no other obvious cause for the Limp episodes. After four hours, we took her home and she couldn’t remember that she was at the hospital. The next day she was back to normal.

It is frustrating to be so helpless. I remember a verse from Bonnie Raitt’s Nick of Time song,
“I see my folks, they're getting old, I watch their bodies change...
I know they see the same in me, And it makes us both feel strange...
No matter how you tell yourself, It's what we all go through...
Those eyes are pretty hard to take when they're staring' back at you.”
Aging is a natural process but it is still excruciating to experience. My Mom is enduring a double death, first with dementia erasing her personality and then it could take years before her body dies.

Sibling Number One began her campaign of hatred against me thirty years ago and has managed to infect the rest of the family with her lies. I am already estranged and feel very vulnerable in their presence. I want Mom to be happy but they have never treated her well. My sisters aren’t nice to her. Our Dad has belittled and bullied her for as long as I can remember. He may suffer from self-inflicted homophobia but he doesn’t have the right to be mean to Mom. She should have divorced him years ago. He is taking care of her now but begrudgingly. I would not be surprised if they moved her into a nursing home soon. Due to the Limp episodes, I would agree but I think that her mental status will suffer as a result. She likes to be at home.

Mom’s older sister also has dementia so the illness may be genetic. My physiology is closer to my mother than my father so I fear that I may inherit this horrible condition. There is no way to avoid the illness, no cure nothing nada zip zero just total abject hopelessness. I don’t have children and my friendly nieces and nephew (kids of Sibling Number Three) live far away. I have very little saved for retirement and will probably end up at the county poor house. I’d rather commit suicide than experience a slow lonely death in an institution.

Missing my Mama
© 2013 Ima B. Musing

TEN YEAR 20/20

Wrote a letter to my ten year old self. No specific order but I wish that someone had told me. Hopefully, I would have listened and followed the advise. Another exercise inspired by 20% Theatre Company.

Dear Ten Year Old Ima,
Never doubt yourself
Write down stories from Grandparents. Record their voices on tape and film
Learn about ancestors; catalogue names, dates and all information possible
Enroll in Grandpa's tribe
Don’t get dragged into the negative elements of fundamentalist faith, focus on animism
Make a lot of friends and be a good friend
Never hide your intelligence, be proud to be a geek
Get mental health counseling from licensed art therapist NOW
Put money into retirement and college accounts NOW
Use a lunch bag, not a metal lunch box
Clean the aquarium with soapy water, not the garden hose
Don’t play a musical instrument, join choir instead
Enjoy being eccentric, don’t ever attempt to conform
Convince the popular kids to like you but don’t join their nasty clique
Befriend adults in the area who have connections to Ivy League or Oxford Colleges
Convince them to sponsor your college application and help secure loans and grants
Never be silent or hold your tongue, though don’t be cruel or mean to others
Procure GED as soon as possible and get out of town
Travel the world for a few years and become fluent in several languages
Attend a prestigious college, earn a Master of Fine Arts, and join a sorority
Obtain a PHD in cultural anthropology, become a pracademic
Stay physically active, don't gain weight
Date a lot of men, sleep with few
Adopt kids, with or without a spouse
Advocate for yourself, you deserve the best
Reside on every continent
Earn living as an artist after retiring from teaching and research
Divorce toxic biological family
Don’t regret anything that you say or do, apologize and move on
Jump over fear & shame and run towards happiness
Know that you are worthy of love, health, and wealth

Best Wishes,
Middle-Aged Ima

Thrive, don’t just survive.
© 2013 Ima B. Musing

NEW YEAR WISHES

World Peace. Yes, but let’s be practical. My number one aspiration for 2013 is a full time job with benefits in the Twin Cities, MN area, preferably the East Metro. I want a job that I am good at and enjoy, with a nice boss and co-workers. I need enough money to pay the bills, donate to charity, and save for retirement. I continue to diligently apply for positions and seek interviews.

Second desire is a beau. It would be enjoyable to have romantic companionship. A nice man with integrity, intelligence, and wit. Single and a nonsmoker. Physical contact, mmm. He should be politically liberal-leaning, patron of the arts, tolerant of people that he disagrees with, and likes cats. I have recently joined a no-cost online dating service and will write about my adventures.

Good health is a perennial requirement. I need to lose weight but otherwise I am doing okay. Gradually, more aches and pains are expressing themselves. I don’t heal as quickly as I used to and my energy level can wane at times. Mental health is just as important as physical health. Despite all the stress of life, I have been able to maintain a fairly optimistic attitude. I hit nasty bumps but I’m getting better at returning to level emotional ground. It’s all about how I react to problems. I can only control my response.

Spiritual well being is another method of emotional grounding. I’m glad that I joined the Unitarian-Universalist faith-based group last year. They are extremely liberal and tolerant. I can be an Animist who questions the existence of Creator(s) and be welcomed as a member of the congregation. I am becoming more active and getting to know people.

I continue to yearn for a better relationship with members of my family. Unfortunately, that has been an unfulfilled wish for many years. It’s better for my mental health just to stay away from them. No matter what I say or do, they consider it wrong. I feel too vulnerable right now to deal with their drama. Sad, sad situation.

Creativity is another objective. I greatly enjoy blogging, volunteering, and coordinating the Cash Mob St Paul MN group. I’d like to explore creative writing and visual arts. It’s been a while since I’ve let my imagination run wild. I don’t expect to make money but perhaps I can craft gifts for my friends.

As always, thank you for your readership. I am most honored that you patronize this odd blog. I greatly appreciate your support and when you refer others to view my writings. The more the merrier!

Have a Fantastic 2013!
© 2013 Ima B. Musing

RATTLING BONES

Skeleton in the closet is how my maternal grandmother, Daisy, phrased it. I didn’t understand the significance of what she said until thirty some years later. I was watching a slide show about the first immigrants to America at our family reunion. I looked at the photos and surnames and grandma’s words came back to me, the proverbial light bulb. “Our family were Jews in Prussia and converted to Christianity just before they came to America,” the family secret.

After the presentation was over, I asked the other audience members if they had heard that oral history. Well respected cousin Virgil responded with “Yes, but nobody talks about it.” Why not? Most of the group looked at me like I was insane. I may be odd, but I’m not unhinged. Virgil said that I should ask more of the relatives so I worked my way around the main reunion room inquiring if anyone else had heard that story. Cousin Sula stated that one of the cousin-historians had seen an odd architectural detail so I sought him out.

Peter, local historian and cousin, had visited a newly renovated farmhouse that had been built by one of our ancestors. The latest owner wanted to show off the improvements and had a question. They were a bit perplexed by a Star of David built into the house. Peter thought it was funny but was rather skeptical when I spoke with him about the conversion story. About an hour later he retorted, “Well, maybe the story is true. The people who built the house were excellent carpenters. They would not put in a Star without a good reason.” As “Christians” they should have installed a Crucifixion Cross, not a Star of David. Until recently, Southern Minnesota was openly hostile to people of Jewish decent; it would have been dangerous for them to display their Judaic roots. The Star was eventually covered, no one knows why but it is a very strong indicator. Another cousin knows the new owner of the house and said that she would take a photo and email it to us. We can determine if it was a design detail, not an architectural quirk.

The most enthusiastic relative was Carla. She was recently diagnosed with Factor V Leiden thrombophilia that my mom, sister, and nephew also have (I need to get tested). I located found two other branches of our family, which have this genetic quirk (DNA error). It makes your blood clot faster than it ought to, thus more susceptible to strokes and heart attacks. Carla had done a lot of research regarding Factor V and learned that it is almost exclusive to Ashkenazi Jews; the disorder is extremely rare and profoundly uncommon for non-Jewish people. She threw her arms around me when I asked if she had heard the story and exclaimed, “I knew I was a Jew!” because her doctor had inquired when she was diagnosed. I was a bit startled by her enthusiasm (she’s from the East Coast) but I checked it out and she was right.

Another cousin, Donald, mentioned that his mom told him we were Jewish. Since no one else in the family spoke about it he had not brought up the subject. He had recently already started a DNA test and will share the results if any Jewish ancestry shows up on his mom’s side (our family). He visited Prussia last year and could not find any hint of our ancestors or their family who stayed in the area. Granted, wars and conflict decimated the region but no traces of their names remain in the local churches or cemeteries. Our family outreach was stymied by the Cold War but perhaps we should have been researching synagogue records. Donald offered to check in Jewish databases for the names of the immigrant’s parents and any information about the family that remained behind. Unfortunately, the Holocaust probably obliterated much of our Jewish kin but we can still honor them and connect with any living blood relatives.

This is a solvable mystery. DNA tests will prove definitively yes or no. If no, I’ll be a little disappointed (humiliated and embarrassed). If yes, I hope that we can make contact with the Jewish family left behind. My grandmother’s favorite musical was “Fiddler On The Roof” it was romanticized but perhaps it made her feel closer to our possible Jewish roots. The story of conversion isn’t something that would be stated in jest, especially if several parts of the family heard the same story. It explains some of the gaps of data. I know that I offended a few people by asking, but it don’t question their faith now. If our ancestors were Jewish, it just means that they had to deal with another layer of change along with immigrating to another land. Gotta admire their hardiness (though as a person with Native American heritage I’m sad that one part of my family was annihilated by the other part). Ironic, eh?

Wake up your skeletons.

© 2012 Ima B. Musing

FADING AWAY

She didn’t recognize me. The party was in a stranger’s house mostly filled with people that we didn’t know. I arrived late and sat across the room. She smiled but did not make conversation. I had just cut my hair. She asked, “Who are you?” when I sat next to her. Those three words sliced into my heart. My own mother didn’t know her child. I told her that I was her daughter Ima. No light of understanding came into her eyes. She wasn’t able to make the connection.

My throat burned, it felt like someone hit me in the chest, and my eyes got moist. The party ended. I managed to make it to the car before I began sobbing. I couldn’t drive away for almost fifteen minutes. Feeling profound pity that her personality was fading away and anger at the damn disease of Alzheimer’s. Most of her great-grandchildren reside in different states and they will never know her benign troublemaking humor, wonderful desserts, and compassion. Unfortunately, my siblings are rather mean to her; they have always discounted her since my dad is dominant (which is probably why I despise misogynists).

Alzheimer’s is an insidious illness; it steals away the personality before the body dies. It heartbreaking to watch my mother get more confused and repeat herself. She has lot many items, including her wedding ring. I don’t live in the same community so every time that I visit she is a bit worse. We got the diagnosis two years ago from an expert (don’t rely on general practitioner but see a specialist, aka memory care medical doctor).

Mom can still hold a conversation and be home alone. However, the day is approaching when she will have to be moved into a nursing home. I’ve urged my dad to take her around to visit the various memory-care facilities. She can choose the one she wants and we can get her placed there. I wish that they would move into an assisted living facility now so that more people could help watch her. However, would the new environment speed her decline? Expense is an issue since they did not save for retirement. My dad is horrible with money. They are near 80 years old but could easily live for another fifteen years or so.

I fear for myself, too. My mom and her sister suffer from Alzheimer’s. What will be my fate? Will other members of the family come down with this disease? When will medical research be able to stop or vaccinate against the illness? Since I don’t have a spouse, who will watch out for me? My family can’t be relied upon and I don’t want to become a ward of the state. I have a Last Will but will my friend follow my wishes, will she even be alive when I reach the age of 75? I don’t have much saved for retirement due to unemployment and bad paying jobs. So many unknowns, it is overwhelming and frightening.

I need to attend some Alzheimer’s Association meetings. Perhaps that will reduce my anxiety. I want to be involved but family interactions are so painful that I avoid them. I have to give myself some time before calling because I know that will cry. I’ve accepted it but the pain is too recent. I feel too vulnerable.

It’s time to halt the Alz!
© 2011

DYSFUNCTIONAL FAMILY

I hate you,
You hate me,
We’re a dys-functional family…
(Inspired by Barney, the purple dinosaur’s song)

My family sucks. The eldest sibling decided to hate me when I went to college. She got the stupid ass notion that our parents paid for my education. What a laugh. They gave me a few groceries and rides to and from school a couple times per year. That was it. I worked all during school and ended up with over $30,000 debt upon graduation.

Through the years her paranoia has increased. She has convinced sister number two to despise me. They have both borrowed money from our parents and have never paid them back. Both of them received hundreds of hours of free babysitting and lots of stuff. They have lived with our parents on occasion with their children, too. I have never asked for nor expected money or items from our parents. My dad said that siblings number one and two don’t believe him when he tells them that I am self sufficient. They are certain that I am a lesbian because I haven’t been married or bring men to visit. Their kids just go along with the crap. Multi-generational stupidity. Our mom didn’t like her sister, either.

When I bought a house almost nine years ago they were certain that our parents paid for it. Ha! I have a huge mortgage. I am making payments despite being unemployed. I have never purposely provoked my siblings. About fifteen years ago I gave them all a book of encouragement for sexual abuse survivors. I had been seeing a therapist and I wanted them to benefit from mental health counseling. That didn’t go over very well so I dropped the subject (“Letting Out the Demons” January 2011 blog for details). I strive not to complain or say negative things about them to other family members.

As an optimist, I try to keep the communication lines open. I didn’t visit for nearly six months after they were horribly rude to me. I sent my sister an email letting her know that I would be in town and hoped to see her. I was busy visiting family and friends but she never called. Our parents said that she usually works during the weekend. She had indicated a long while ago that she didn’t like phone calls so I didn’t call. I returned home and she called me with a nasty attitude. I remained calm and told her that I tried to make contact but she was still angry. I am perplexed. Why would she want to see me since she hates me?

I can only control my reaction. I really strive not to be bothered by their stupidity but it bugs me. I wish that they would be supportive and kind but that will never occur. They are not happy with anything that I say or do or don’t say or don’t do. I feel vulnerable in their presence. I don’t have anyone to take along and provide back up or comfort. I avoid my family like the plague. That is my best coping mechanism.

I’d like to cut off all communication but I maintain tenuous contact because of our parents. I feel ill after visiting. I have enough stress with unemployment (ten months), delayed repairs to my house, financial fears, and striving not to burden friends with my problems. I wish that I could divorce them.

Sick of striving.
© 2011

SCROOGE WAS RIGHT

Bah humbug for the holiday season. Here is what I hate, the continuous perfection pressure. I am to be bright and happy at all encounters. I can’t be truthful because that would ruin the holiday mood of fake happiness. I usually state, “I’m okay except for unemployment,” the other person responds by mumbling that I’ll get a job soon. Yeah, right.

Family togetherness. Ha. I get along with my parents as long as we avoid such topics as politics, religion or anything controversial. My hyper-conservative father controls my mother so she is just his parrot. I find that I can only stand being in their presence for a couple days before I want to scream. My siblings are nasty and it is best to avoid them. They, their spouses, and kids enjoy making derogatory remarks about me when I am in the room with them. I can’t verbally retaliate because they gang up on me and call me whiney. Bastards. I feel so alone and lonely when I am with my family. They may have a biological connection but they have no clue how to be accepting or loving. I wish that I had a boyfriend or hubby to take with me to act as a buffer.

Gifts are just silly and usually people give you stuff that you don’t want or need. I have stopped giving presents to adults and generally send out kid gifts in the early part of the year. I don’t adhere to an arbitrary date set by some dude in the 14th Century as the birth of a wise person. I would rather follow the celestial calendar, such as Solstice and Equinox. Christmas this, Christmas that, Christmas permeates the culture. What about other faiths??? It is really disrespectful to ignore their holidays or make only one mention. Excuse me, but not everybody is a Christian.

Cards are the only exception. They are physical evidence that people know that I exist. I proudly display them, though Tillie the kitten tries to eat them. I keep track of who sends me a card from year to year. If they go for two years without returning a card that I have sent to them, they are off the list. Why waste money on a card, time to write out the card, and postage on someone who obviously doesn’t care?

My friends care but I don’t expect them to invite me to their family holiday gatherings. I usually sit at home alone with the cats. Yes, I am grumpy this year. I never expected to be 40-something alone, childless, and unemployed. I want to have a good job and a good boyfriend/hubby who may already have kids (who like me). I guess that is too much to ask for from the Santa-spirit.

Bah humbug.
© 2010