Posts Tagged ‘Family’

Grandma, you’re a little late there…

Tuesday, April 6th, 2010

Dear Sheba
Queen of Sheba
Drama-Mama
Dame Pris de Panique
Grandma,

I am trying to come to a (grudging) kind of acceptance for your (possibly) well-intentioned, panic-stricken melodramas; because, I’m sure you’re doing this because you care on some level. (Or maybe you just enjoy hypertension and adrenaline.)

Thus, I did actually read your e-mail for the first time in months when you contacted us about a “dire” new computer virus that could “destroy our lives” if we don’t take immediate action.

I read it and laughed. No. I’m sorry, let me amend that: I lol’d. And then deleted it. (Only to regret it when I decided to share my amusement.)

Next time you decide to have a panic attack over a virus and send out urgent e-mails to everyone you know, you might want to check the date on the “proof” you’re using. The dates are all 2006. Oh, and the amended details indicating that the threat has been contained and all Operating Systems involved were patched.

What you’re circulating right now is a virus hoax chain letter with falsified details. While some details are true, it’s neither new or a major threat. It will not “destroy my life” or my computer. Actually, no virus will do that.

Please, take some deep breaths and maybe a Valium.

Sincerely,
~ Sally

It is ON!

Saturday, December 5th, 2009

Guess we couldn’t escape without Catty Karla getting one last lick in. While Craig and I were running another load of things to the storage unit, she came over to get some family paintings and stuff. She apparently lit into Mom. Mostly about my thing with Poppa over the phone, but also for us leaving.

It is ON. Karla, Poppa, Grandma, Caroline… I’m going to prove you wrong!

My fear will be a catalyst for my new life! I’ll take this leap of faith… I will succeed.

In the words of Yoda: Do, or do not. There is no try.

Gotta go. Love you all.

XOXO

Disowned

Thursday, December 3rd, 2009

I finally broke down and calling my grandfather in an attempt to reconcile.

I spent weeks rehearsing what I was going to say, over and over.

Lets just say that just blew up in my face. I was wrong, I was mistaken, I was lying, I was making stuff up, I need to reevaluate, he doesn’t know where I got that, he doesn’t know what’s going on in my head, he can’t read me, he can’t understand me. It was all me, he did nothing… said nothing. I was the villain yet again.

I tried talking with him about the crap that’s gone on during the past 12 years. Like him literally throwing my things during one of our moves.

Him: “Well, you should have gotten out there and helped.”
Me: “Did it ever occur to you that I was already helping someone else?”

He’s threatened to harm our animals. Nope, he never said that. I point out his comment about his gun helping with our “cat problem” just a month ago. His response: “Gawd.” And then comes an ultimatum: get rid of our animals or say goodbye to him.

I told him I’ll find another option. I’ve been abandoned enough in my life, I won’t inflict that pain on another living creature. I’m more important than those animals, he says. I didn’t even bother to protest that Luna has saved my life numerous times as a hypoglycemia alert dog.

Then he literally had the balls to wax nostalgic over Brownie, our collie who died years ago.

Every point I tried to make, he said I was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. My feelings are totally wrong.

He said I used to be his best friend, but I’m not anymore. He even declared I don’t love him. He’s been so gracious to offer to let us live with him, but for the sake of those animals we’re refusing. We need to think it over “real good.” The animals or be disowned.

I finally said “Goodbye, Poppa. I love you.” and hung up.

I made it out to the living room and just collapsed in the middle of the floor.

If I don’t love him, why in the world does it feel like I was punched in the gut?

Lets Be Selfish!

Thursday, November 12th, 2009

Poppa (Mom’s dad) is at our house even as we speak. Just dropped by. Tried calling twice, but we were outside. Rather than wait for us to call him back, he’s here right now.

Reason he stopped over? A local church is giving away food! Oh yes, lets defraud a church’s food pantry and say we’re from different households. We can be selfish, what they don’t know won’t hurt anyone! *snort*

Course, he arranges it with mom… not a word to me and Jass isn’t here to say “no.” Going to get an awful shock tomorrow, aren’t they?

Mom’s Birthday Bull****

Friday, October 23rd, 2009

For the first time in years, my mom started out her birthday actually pretty chipper. I was delighted! Normally she’s morosely depressed for her birthday. This time, she actually seemed upbeat. We discussed getting her a lemon filled éclair with chocolate frosting and maybe seeing if we could get her a few instance runs on Adashi before the raids tonight. (Can’t afford real presents… but darnit, donuts and heroics we can do!)

Until Aunt Karla called. Nice conversation to start and then came the catty remarks. Among the zingers, she says she doesn’t know why she came back [to Michigan], the family doesn’t pay enough attention or something to her. Lets see… she puts us on her shit list, acts catty and mean whenever we see her, gives ultimatums that she won’t attend family functions if we’re invited, and then declares that? Wow, Dr. Phil would have a field day with this family!!

Now my mom is tearful, sighing wistfully, and morose. Gee, thanks Catty Karla. You’re a real peach.

And there’s still two more family members left to call to give mom her “birthday greetings” — Sheba and Aunt Kathy. Sheba better behave and mind her tongue. Or I might just have to hurt that hateful old hag!

Does “Don’t take it Personally” include a clause about wanting to choke a bitch? >_< Yeah, I’m not doing so well on the whole “not taking it personally” thing. *giggles*

Nothing Personal; Just Letting Go

Wednesday, October 21st, 2009

We’re continuing to take things to Goodwill and consignment stores. There’s something very addictive and cathartic to letting go of all this stuff. I don’t miss anything.

Well… I did have a brief pang about my comic collection a couple days ago, but 2 months after the fact is a little late to recover them. Wasn’t like I was actually reading them.

It’s all just stuff and unnecessary. Besides, it’ll make the move far easier.

Also trying to work myself into a state when I stop taking things personally. It’s a waste of emotion to take anything personally. Frankly, very little of this has anything to do with Mom, Jass, or me. In some cases, the person dishing out the crap wants us to take it personally. It’s a reflection — or maybe a kind of misdirection — of themselves.

For example: I think Poppa finally realizes we’re serious. He won’t actually speak to Jass or me, but he keeps suddenly locating job hints after a year of “sucks to be you” attitude. Again, this has nothing to do with us. I still plan to leave and engage in that nice long vacation from our family. I just think he’s finally realizing he’s about to lose.

I can’t say it’s easy. It’s SO hard. Last 25 man raid in WoW, I wanted to take a snotty comment personally. Cue deep breaths, roll my eyes, and make the omnipresent cat on my desk squeal her indignation as I flip her onto her back to blow raspberries on a furry tummy.

I can’t take it personally anymore; I’m all out of Sunshine, binkies, and Scratching-Post Sisal. Thus, I refuse to accept: “Thank you for the gift, but I think you have more use of it than I do.”

Leaving: The Right Choice

Tuesday, August 18th, 2009

I’m making the right decision regarding leaving and ceasing contact with my family.

Today was the day mom had to appear in court to fight our eviction from this trailer park. While I know the panic attacks are associated with that time of the month, I’m in a slight panic. Trying to find jobs, housing, and all other things remotely is scary. We could make a day trips to our previous long distance moves to arrange things, here it has to be done entirely remotely.

Since I’m having so many panic attacks, I asked mom if I could remain at home. I’m not good to anyone if I’m completely panicking over every little thing. I don’t trust myself out in public when I’m like this. (Yes, I know it only enforces the behavior. *sigh*)

So anyway, Poppa calls to ask if mom is ready to be picked up to go to court. He’s completely dismayed when I answer the phone. I do live here, I do kinda of have the right to answer the phone in my own house. I make a remark that “mom is out shredding a few papers” and he’s aghast… outside? Sure, the paper shredder is kept out in a far out remote location and it takes us 7 hours of trekking through deep snow — uphill — in the middle of searing hot sun to shred our credit card offers.

Not long after they leave, I look at the time. The court summons say 1:30pm and it’s 1:30pm and they left only 2 minutes ago. >_< So I pick up the phone and dial his cell phone number. Holy attitude, holy hostility. In face of that kind of gruffness (for a sec I think I may have dialed one of our other friends), I stammer a “Poppa?” Yep, right number. I stammer meekly again pointing out the time and asking if this means we’re in trouble. Attitude. An angry “maybe yes, maybe no.” I sigh, “Sorry for bothering you, won’t happen again” and hang up.

This man, my grandfather — Poppa, used to be my hero. A safe place to fall. He was in the military and into drug enforcement, very scary work and I admired him for it. I told him he was my hero and role model. He was someone I could call if I was scared and needed some reassuring. I’d like to know what happened to him. While I was packing a found a picture of him holding me when I was a baby, us both taking a nap.

At some point, he began to hate me. I can’t identify when or what happened to cause this, but it’s grown until I get hostility when I attempt to contact him. Even without my monthly hormonal-caused panic attacks, just knowing he’ll be dropping by the house causes me to panic. Part of me wants to blame Caroline — my step grandmother; some of the behavior started after he married her almost 15 years ago.

It came to a head when I went away to college and Mom — and later Jasson — followed me north. No matter how it was justified as “he’s just passing a kidney stone” — what was the statistical chance he was passing one each and every time he’s spoken with me for 10 years or so?

I wish there was a way to communicate with them and find out what the exact problem is. But, it’s time for that long vacation away from them. Maybe permanently.

Tell Me About Richmond, Dallas

Sunday, May 17th, 2009

We’ve narrowed down the two areas we think we want to move to:

  • Richmond, VA
  • Dallas, TX

Without going into a lot of details regarding our reasons, please tell us about them. We want the good, the bad, the ugly. Even a “WTF are you looking there…?!” with your reasoning would be appreciated.

Help me out here!

Changing My Language

Tuesday, December 16th, 2008

I need to change my language about myself, my family, and my life. It’s just so easy, especially around the holidays to get caught up in the negative language my family tends to use.

Every year, it’s the same. Christmas gifts just happen to be one battleground.

Mom wants to get crafty for Christmas gifts, even though they’ve made it clear all other years we’ve made handmade gifts that they don’t appreciate it. Sheba used my mother’s handmade quilts to wrap furniture for moving and then threw them out, almost the whole family sneered when we gave gift baskets with hand-selected gourmet foods, handmade fudge and cookies thrown out, and several family members tried to give back handmade, beaded Christmas ornaments within minutes of us giving them to them. They’ve flippantly admitted to just throwing things out if they don’t want them or like them anymore. The only thing they seem to have kept is my framed, artistic photos I gave them back when I was 18, but I suspect it’s for the same reason people hoard National Geographic magazines rather than sentimental reasons. While it’s their right, I guess… it does hurt our feelings.

Jass and I are both urging her to reconsider and just get gift certificates. It just isn’t worth it giving them another opportunity to hurt us.

They want a definitive time frame for everything under the sun. Being out of work, they’re going to want a definitive time frame for when I’ll get a job. (Forget the economy here in Michigan and across the country.) Experience or lack of experience, competition, whatever — it’s irrelevant to them.

According to them, I’m brainless, worthless, useless with no applicable life skills. I’m a slacker, a child who refuses to grow up, and destined to a life of failure unless I live like they want me to. I’ve wasted all these years of college and have gone nowhere.

NO! No more!

I can’t continue letting that dialogue creep into my own thoughts. There’s nothing I can do about them, but I can do something about my own thoughts and actions. Every time I say that, think that, replay the last time they said that to me, I tear myself down. The fact is, I can never please them. I need to realize that and move on. Change my own language so it has less of an impact. Back when I was a teen, I actually had thoughts of harming myself — or worse — after one of their diatribes.

For whatever reason, they deemed my mother the black sheep of the family back when she was a child — the one who is at fault for anything and everything that happens in this family. Because we’re her children, we’re an extension of that. It’s time we change our language and stop being their scapegoat. This isn’t love, it’s the product of some really messed up people.

I can’t allow them to do this anymore.

I don’t want to say they don’t love us; we certainly love them — which is why this always hurts so much. However, there is no connection, no support, and no sense of belonging. What there is, is a cycle of verbal and emotional abuse. We have to stop it.

If that means moving or being excommunicated from the family, so be it.

So much for thinking

Friday, April 27th, 2007

First thing this morning, I’m woken up by the phone. It’s Sue, wanting to know my decision.

So much for having time to think about my father’s estate. Less than 48 hours later, my dad’s trailer is completely cleaned out, fixed up, and ready to sell. My jaw literally dropped. That doesn’t happen overnight. Meaning she had no intention of giving us the option of getting anything from it in the first place. “Thinking” about it only applied to the money and probably only because of the laws governing this.

Great.

I never did get the chance to call our CPA or the probate court, and Theresa didn’t get a chance to get back with me. Gee! Thanks, Sue. We had been seriously considering requesting the genealogy things. So much for that idea. Somehow, I kept my temper in check and told her in a tone as gracious as I could muster that I wanted her to have the money as compensation for the investment she made in taking care of my father.

I know we were going to let the State take everything and that I didn’t want to bother with it, but I have been so angry about this all day long. Why the hell did she even suggest that we think it over and discuss it when she was just going to pull this anyway? These sort of games were the reason we started avoiding that side of the family to begin with. Mom and Jass has been trying to get me to see the bright side. That being that aside from signing a waiver from the probate court, we shouldn’t have to do anything else.

Later today, I ran into one of my relatives at the grocery store. She offered me her condolences and I thanked her coolly. She apparently interpreted this as me being grief-stricken and pulls his “poor dear” crap on me. I ended up being a touch brittle with her, because I am just SO sick and tired of dealing with my father’s side of the family and their damn games.