Letters I meant to send

Just because I’m your relative, doesn’t mean you can act like a child and give me the cold shoulder on account of you not getting your way. 

I AM NOT YOUR PERSONAL, DISPOSABLE SCAPEGOAT.

Also, If you assume I’m okay with you treating our parents like garbage, or my kids as a nuisance to your life then you must not know me at all. Yes, I see you rolling your eyes at mother and how you resent our father’s efforts to guide you. No, there isn’t ANY justifiable reason for you to cuss at our parents over my child’s birthday cake. I have been tolerant and held my tongue too long.

I am fed up with hearing you pass judgement and blame on mother, father, myself, our extended family, your friends, your colleagues … your  landlord , any scapegoat will do; and of course, everyone else but yourself – for every wrong thing that has ever happened in your life. People can have relationships with friends and family fade without the drama. Fine, there’s no love or respect lost for you here, we get it. You can be superior to us all, but please know that your profound inability to empathize with anyone or anything that doesn’t benefit you in some way was never lost on us. Bad behavior should not be overlooked simply because you act out on people who love you. Being related to someone does not give you a free pass to hurt them. Being hurt in the past by someone you hold dear is not justification to hurt anyone else in the future. Everything isn’t about you and yes, you are still accountable for all the pain you’ve inflicted, no matter how you feel. No manipulations, no crocodile tears, no emotional blackmail. 

Pain should not be a legacy, and we as relatives should know better than to force someone to inherit our stressors and traumas, ESPECIALLY our children.

I love you, always have and always will. However …

Our love isn’t a shield that protects you from reprisal when you disrespect us

Things my kids say:

Jedi:  I want a vape pen so my room smells nice like yours. 

Diva: Her room smells ah-mazing. It smells good because she cares about it and keeps it clean. Im obsessed with your bed, Momma.  Do you know I laid down and fell asleep in Mom’s bed for like an hour and when I woke up my skin was softer. 

Me: How is that even possible?

Diva: I DONT KNOW! But it’s totally true. Your bed is magic. 

As ominous clouds gather

It’s been threatening to rain/storm all day, literally and figuratively speaking. 

Figurativively, Im trying to cope, calm the storm inside my wild breaths and not lash out like I normally do when someone backs me into a corner: CLAWS OUT. The bottle of wine, Im working on finishing on my own would tell me Im going to need a better coping mechanism. Fuck. Whatever. Look, when someone tells you they would like to have a therapy session with you so that they can “relay things” to you with an assured “support person” to be on hand for you after said things are relayed, I think most would agree is ominous. Not something I would normally sign up for, but I am doing it for my mother. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. There has just been far too much anti-climatic drama in our family since my sister got pregnant. I have been cut out and my Mom, whom would deny this if ever asked,  was placed in the middle.  

I got a call last March. I missed that call while I was driving and attempting to follow voice navigated directions, it went to my  voicemail. Over a year has passed and I still wonder: What if I had only received that call? What if I had not needed direction that night. I pulled into a CVS and listened to the voicemail. It was my sister telling me that she was pregnant. Happy tears rolled down my cheeks as I couldn’t even gather myself to listen to the other details, so I hung up and called her right back. Straight to voicemail. I let my elation and joy unfold in a voice message. I hang up and call directly back to my own voicemail to completely listen to the whole message. Sister says she is due in September. She said that since she was past the first trimester, as well as her and my brother in law, (DC),  wedding anniversary was coming up on St. Patrick’s Day, she and DC were planning a Facebook post to tell everyone, but she had still wanted to tell me formally. It tasted like the real thing, but looking back on that last word: formally I have to wonder if this was EXACTLY all she meant to do was to formally tell me she was pregnant. 

Fine, we can have a formal only sister interaction, hell, even if begrudging this seems likes a civility that our parents, who have invested so much here could have holidays with their children and grandchildren without the drama, but no, that couldn’t be what she meant because I wasn’t ever formally or even informally invited to either of her baby showerS, friends and also family, out-of-town with my Mom’s entire side of the family and where was Stephanie?  

Did anyone ask?  I digress…

Whatever is to be said, and I steongly feel, I already know but am trying to delude myself into believing there must be something more. What I do know is that there is just absolutely no excuse that will dismiss the great injustice I feel. 

To be continued …

Letters I meant to send:

mark-zuckerberg-facebook-liveDear Mr. Zuckerberg,

I humbly submit the following as my dissertation on facebook:

 

Many, many moons ago, in the age of MySpace, we were able to arrange and re-arrange “The Elite 8”. I bump up or down this lineup was watched and commentated on throughout pop culture. It was a “thing”. As we moved from High School MySpace to the thing all the college kids were doing on the facebook campus. We start friending everyone when we first got there as freshmen. We friended people we met through a friend of a friend at the bar even as sophomores. We started to realize that the more “friends” we added, the more platforms and pedestals we provided. It wasn’t until we were upper class-man that we started to add our family. In giving everyone a platform, we got to see the deepest and also, unfortunately, the darkest parts of their hearts. It hasn’t always been pretty, but the grotesque should not make us look away. We must brave on and look at the carnage the generations before us left behind. Never before had it been put on such vast display, not only for everyone to see, but to others to comment. This gave us the deepest look into the mind of human kind and, man …spoiler alert:… WE’RE FUCKED UP! BUT, the most brutiful part is that in friending our family members, we found our tribe. The people who communicate love in our language. Our tribe can consist of whoever the hell we want. We can still be family, without being friends and we can be friends who become family. That’s our tribe and we get to connect to it, wherever in the world we may be, whenever our tribe is needed.

Thank you, for the wake up call, Mr. Zuckerberg. From this point forward, l shall be using facebook for this purpose alone. #dailywakeupcallfromsteph

 

I hereby request to be permitted to graduate and henceforth be known as:

Dr. Stephanie Quinzel

 

IT IS SO ORDERED.

__________________________________________

Mark M. Zuckerberg, Fouder, facebook

Things my kids say

Me: Im pretty sure Im gaining weight. Ugh… I feel like a fatty.

Diva: You know today I put this shirt on and it was more form fitting and I looked at myself and thought “Oh. You look good, girl. You’re not overweight. ” Then I got to school and sat in a desk was like:

“Nope. Well, that was nice while it lasted.”

Me, laughing: You are so MY daughter.

Note to Self

“They are trying to pressure you into letting up and giving in to make it easier on them. Stand your ground… you have ALREADY been the good person and done the right thing. You have already done what would help them. They just don’t want it to cost them anything, but that’s not right and that’s not life.”

~ My Mother