Until It Ain’t

I’ve waited as long as I possibly could before pouring out my thoughts on more drama that took place within my mother’s family. I have since extricated myself from said family, so they will just be referred to as people I know going forward. Actually, I don’t even know them. I don’t know who they are or what they stand for. Everything I thought I knew growing up was a lie. I always thought blood was thicker than water, and I stood behind that for years. I defended these people for years. But now, I see what everyone else saw the whole time, and it’s sad. But because my grandparents are no longer alive, I feel no need to have a connection with that family. It really hurts. Pretty bad. It doesn’t hurt them at all. The only person it is hurting is me. They don’t think about me every night before they go to bed. They don’t think about me when they’re driving to work. And they probably won’t think of me at Thanksgiving, Christmas, or Easter. Unfortunately I do think of them.

And it hurts.

But what hurts even more is the way they have treated me. The way they have betrayed me. The way they have belittled me. The things said can be deleted from Facebook, but they can never be deleted from my mind. In case you missed it, this is what was said about me:

“I guess that I missed that pathetic blog entry. I actually spend time with my family instead of whining about my life on a blog or Facebook. Many people go through struggles/mental issues and you don’t see them plastering those issues for the world to give them attention for it. Maybe you should help your daughter through a seizure instead of taking a picture of it and trying to get attention for it. I put you on my prayer list long ago. God, obviously hasn’t touched that mess yet.”

Several of my family members and closest friends reached out assuring me everyone knew this was a jealousy post. But regardless of knowing that, it still hurt. It really hurt. Is that what people really think? Because guess what? I do care what people think. It does bother me. And it is still bothering me.

I repeatedly tell myself this blog is not pathetic, and I go back and reread 50+ DMs of people thanking me. I repeatedly tell myself this isn’t attention seeking and I’m doing it for myself as well as others. I repeatedly tell myself I am an excellent mom and would do anything for my children; I didn’t realize posting one seizure out of several made me a bad mom. I didn’t realize that writing blog entries while my children are in bed was taking away from spending time with my family. And lastly, I didn’t realize the sharing of my feelings, both dark and scary, as suggested by my therapist, was seen as whining. I didn’t realize I was plastering my issues for attention. Actually, plastering these issues is one of the scariest things I’ve ever done and most of the time I hope not everybody reads it!

So guess what, those words hurt. My feelings… hurt. My heart… hurt.

My soul… hurts.

It’s exhausting worrying about other people and what they think of me. It’s exhausting hating myself and others for these nasty comments. It’s exhausting being an adult and always saying or doing the right thing. I’ve typed so many mean, nasty, awful things and sent to my brother for approval and every damn time he says, “you’re better than that.” But am I? Because every ounce of me wants to stoop to that level. Every nerve in my body shakes. I am full of anger and hurt. I want them to hurt as bad as they’ve hurt me. It’s so exhausting. Living this way is exhausting.

My therapist has reassured me I will never get the vindication I want or need. I told myself I absolutely have to let it go. I’ve said it over and over and over, “they’re dead to me.” But still, the thoughts haunt me. Their words are on repeat in my head every single night.

So if I can take away anything from this whole experience that started over three looooong months ago, it’s just to choose kindness. My God, just be kind. Some people don’t have thick skin, and can’t move past things. I cannot move past things. I have to let this go. I have to say my peace, and unfortunately that means saying goodbye to my mother’s family. All of them. Even the ones who did nothing to me. Because I am well aware of how said family operates, and to them blood is thicker than water… until it ain’t.