I think I’ve reached the limit of what I’m willing to tolerate in the name of obligation. The martyr might officially be dead, or at the very least in CPU on life support.
As you know I’ve given up a lot of time this year for family. Not my immediate family, but extended family. All of which I didn’t mind doing, I just needed a little help in return. And, not to be greedy, but a little appreciation too.
Instead I got guilt, suspicion and reproach. Good can never be good enough. Such is the life of my family. We were ruined by religion. Love was replaced by duty. Kindness and compassion replaced by a barter system that repays good for good and bad for bad.
Do everything. Expect nothing back. But hate anyone who doesn’t give it to you.
I swear for such a “Christian” group they’re a selfish bunch. Instead of saying what more can I possibly give, I got, “I got mine so you can suck it.”
Basically I needed financial help meeting these needs. I spent two months in Los Angeles away from my family with no real way to earn a living back then, and yet I was doing all the legwork and the calls and setting things up and being intermediary with the other people my mom didn’t want to deal with. She’s on a walker so I took that job with no complaint AND didn’t even expect anything when I did so.
But when the opportunity arose to be compensated, I took it. My time and my life is worth something, and if it helps out someone when they need it you’d think it would be given without resentment.
But that’s not how my family works. My family is all about the almighty dollar. Having that in the bank is more important than showing kindness and generosity, unless it’s of course to buy things like pizza and fried chicken and ice cream.
For that money gets spent.
That’s how I got paid in my family… and it shows.
So after my aunt died and my uncle came back to stay with my mother, her idea, she took control of his finances. He needs his stuff moved from Los Angeles and it’s going to be a cost but somehow now there’s no money to pay for it. So I was expected to cough up the dough to get his stuff and bring it back. Dough, incidentally, I don’t have. If I had it to spare, I would in a heartbeat — that’s the difference between me and them. Which is probably why I’m always broke and they have money.
I put people first.
I mean obviously, or else I wouldn’t have spent all this time doing things and sacrificing things for people I wasn’t all that close to. I did it for my mom, but she can’t see that. All she can see is that I threaten her precious stack of money.
So I lost it. I finally let the dam burst on 40 years of resentment towards the way I’ve been treated. And what do I get in return? “Well if that’s the way you feel you don’t have to call me anymore. Goodbye.”
As usual it’s my fault someone else made me feel bad. And this was what I was fighting against happening the entire time I was in LA, which made me nutty as a freaking fruitcake.
I can’t go back to swallowing it all and taking it on the cuff. I can’t be the martyr anymore, who willingly suffers in some fucked up notion that this is somehow holy or righteous.
This is my limit.
No longer will I swallow my feelings for someone else who doesn’t give a crap about me. If it’s all about them it can be all about them… I don’t have to participate. I get that choice.
I’ve got a family now that cares what I think and how I feel. And a network of friends who feel the same way. If my blood kin cannot appreciate me in the same way, then that’s their loss.
I may regret it later but for now… I have to walk away.
I’m too old for this shit. And it’s gotta stop.