Merry Xmas and all that. I got an unexpected something in my inbox this morning. A message from my aunt, whom I’ve not spoken/written to since my sister sent out a message to the extended family telling them all I was insane, a drug addict, a liar, a cheat, etc. Haven’t heard from my aunt in at least a year. Now I have a message telling me she heard from my uncle, her brother, that I’ve been feeling depressed (wrote to my uncle last night; have a reply from him, too). Uh. This is my mother’s family. It’s more than a little difficult to not say ‘Oi! It’s your sister’s fault. She was a bitch.’ It’s more than a little difficult to not say anything about my sibling’s blatant problems, or the problems that run in the family line. But, you know. Xmas and all that. No need to bring up bad feelings. I guess.
Wow. Two family members reaching out to me. I’ll sidestep all the possible darker motives they may have, including just catching up on gossip to go and spread to everyone. All those bad things could be true; I have no proof either way. But I don’t want to be a sceptic. I want to believe they actually care, and that’s why they’ve written. My note last night was the first time I think I used ‘depression’ in my language. I didn’t have the guts to say ‘bipolar’ or anything else; didn’t feel they’d understand. But depression? They’d understand that. As long as they don’t have to deal with the day to day grind of it. Long distance depression has it’s advantages – none of those phrases you can’t stand to hear uttered out loud. Worst I have to do is read shit like that.
*sigh* I’ll answer them later. My uncle is a peach; it’s my aunt I’m not sure how to approach. I really felt abandoned by her, shed many tears over not hearing from her for so long. We never wrote each other on a schedule, it was very casual. But we always got back to each other, always kept the conversation going or, if it had lagged too long, began a new conversation as a catch up. That stopped after my sister’s message. I’d written a note to my aunt and then my sister’s tirade came into play. After that, silence. I wrote one short, scared note asking if my aunt had received that message. She replied that yes, she had (as had everyone else) but not to worry, no one thought worse of me for it. Then nothing. No reply to our conversation, no pick up of a new topic. For over a year. Now this. Thinking back on it just reminds me of HOW hurt I was. And not just over the lack of response to my communication, but over the phrase ‘no one thinks worse of you’ like they already thought me such a piece of shit nothing could lower their expectations more.
I want my brother up so I can talk to him about this. He lived it with me: getting the message from my sister, discovering she’d sent blind copies out to the extended family, the long silence from everyone, my hopelessness and depression over losing my connections. Today’s the first day I’m happy his new medication cycle demands he gets up by 9 a.m. to take his first pill. I don’t have to wait ’til noon before he’s up. He always sees things I don’t, always points out something I’ve missed and gives me good advice.
My hands and mind are itching to write a scathing reply. Throw guilt out like I was taught to do so well: I was under the impression that you no longer wanted to talk to me. Despite your words, it seemed you did take what K said about me to heart. It’s been more than a year. Now you tell me that you love me? That’s a bit pat, isn’t it? Maybe it’s Christmas, but we’re not big Christians, so what exactly are you doing? Feeling lonely? Or just gathering new evidence to pass along to my sister? Because I hardly think that bitch has left me alone. I think she seethes a bit every time she see the block I put on her on FB. I think she’s dying to know how badly I’m doing, so she can gloat and feel superior. And I think she’s couched all of that in gentle language, telling you she’s sorry for what she did and she’s really worried about me. That’s all a lie; she’s not sorry and she’s not worried. She wants fuel to feed her hatred of me, and any new news is fuel. I do not want her to know a thing. She doesn’t deserve to know I’m living in Rotterdam, or that I changed my hair color, or that I’m suffering from depression. Tell her I’m dead. She’s dead to me. Or if she isn’t, she should be.
Some days seem made to set you up for a crappy time. I’m betting today is one of those days. So I’m flipping the bird to the world and taking an Ativan chip NOW. There. Get down there with coffee and joint smoke. Do your fucking job. I am not. gonna allow myself. to get. wound. up.
This gift was NOT on my list to Santa. He must be getting senile to think I’d open this with anything other than suspicion.
Man! I’d take that unwanted gift of socks over this any day of the week. Socks are useful, even if they do feel like an anti-climax when you take the wrapping off. This is just ookey – a little icky with a lot of ‘ooo’ like you got punched in the stomach. And no return queue for this. I don’t have a receipt.