I get a loving message from an estranged family member that was quick to remind me if I’m not around to help out a situation I never supported, then I was effectively not welcome “should the worst occur.”
Ah, it just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy just thinking about it.
Nobody worries about the worst occurring to *me*, mind you. That would be just fine and dandy with some folks I’m supposedly related to.
But I need to worry about those ties that bind (and strangle) because at any moment the end could come for someone else.
Forget the fact that when this person was DYING I (and my entire family) dropped everything to come three states over to take care of her. No questions asked.
And I dropped everything earlier this year to go three states over to take care of an estranged aunt and uncle – no questions asked.
But God forbid I try to take care of *my* needs in either scenario. You’d think I’d asked for the moon.
I was so exhausted trying to meet the expectations of people determined never to find the best in me that I bowed out of their lives months ago… and now I get hit by this emotional guilt grenade while innocently toodling along in my own life – trying to get by with my own worries and concerns.
My immediate family has their own issues. I’m a mom with two kids and a husband and some furry four legged children who all need me in a way that is much more tangible than just relief pitching for someone tired of their own grave they dug.
But that’s how it works in my extended family.
If some of them feel like shit they need to kick me in the head to feel better about themselves. As if they are so damn sanctimonious they are above reproach.
I’m the black sheep, you see. The product of an affair. Hated from the time I was born. Never good enough. Isolated, neglected and emotionally abused at the whim of certain family members who would never quite figure out that punishing me for the actions of another didn’t make anything in their life any better.
It just hurt me.
But I guess that was enough. I guess I was born with some deep-seated need to be punished. I was the one who “got everything” this other person didn’t get. I was also the one who never let the very same things that happened to her stop me from being brave enough to fully live life and fully love other people and EMBRACE HAPPINESS.. and that, apparently, is an unforgivable sin.
Except when I can be used to make the lives of other people better. Even when their decisions are the ones directly responsible for their current suffering… decisions I, for the record, was against at the get-go.
I guess I’m not allowed to have an opinion.
I’m like a mule. I need only bray when the fucking bar comes across my neck so I can pull the weight of others.
Yet oddly, should I dare expect stuff in return all of a sudden *I’m* selfish.
Well, here’s the thing. I get to choose how I feel. I’m an adult now. I’m all grown up. And I get to decide if this is baggage I need to carry.
And it’s not.
So love me as is or kindly leave me the hell alone.
This is a Guilt Free working space.
Merry Fucking Christmas.