Tag: family

Eight Day Migraine

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Family Catch-up

Yall know I’ve been stressed. I haven’t been posting a ton, but you remember the family drama, right? My (low contact) dad died and my sisters be crazy and I got tossed back into the turmoil I needed therapy to escape.

Actually, I just looked it up to backlink and I haven’t posted about it since the day he died. That’s how you know its stressful. You stop trying your stress relief and asking for help because it’s just fucked.

Hmm. Wow. How do we update this without a thesis? Dad died, obviously. I don’t get bereavement leave and took unpaid time to be there when he died. So lame. It’s not relevant, but I’m bitter.

So, my sister, the caretaker is kinda of taking charge of everything. Cause My father had a will that left the house to her but he never signed it because OF COURSE. And while he was with his GF for 16 years, they weren’t married and she had her own house closer to her work so they can’t establish common law marriage. So that leaves us with having to get an attorney to settle the estate and all 5 children have to agree to everything and/or get an equal cut.

So caretaker sister was doing that. She had already been doing a bunch of it and keeping everyone totally up to date. Then she went to pick up the death certificates and someone already had. Turns out secret family step brother had picked them up. He claimed it was to be helpful. But really he was getting his own attorney to get power of the estate — which doesn’t matter because the law would still be the same, but some people are stupid. Well, I actually saved the day by telling them that she could just go print a new one for $15 and she did so she beat him to it. But I still got yelled at a ton.

Why? Cause evil secret family step brother is trying to thwart everyone on every single fucking thing. First it was the death certificates. Then he filmed everything in the house to document it so nothing would be lost. Then fighing over what real estate agent to use. Refusing to let movers be paid for by the estate (my solution to “im not helping”) or help himself. And all through all of this shit he lying his teeth off about how he’s doing it to protect caregiver sister. Whatever.

Oh wait — so antifreeze sister and secret family step brother think there is money to be had. Cause dad lived like he had money. And they’re stupid. Dad owed years of back taxes and had a reverse mortgage. So no. I was on team — just let them reposes everything. But my siblings wanted to sell the house because even with the reverse mortgage there was/is money to be made. So I was like sure, I vote to sell too. So then they had to fix shit and pack up the house and move the packed up shit (cause dad was kind of a hoarder about buying ALL THE SHIT). And I got a fuck ton of flack for not being there helping. EVEN FROM MY SISTER IN LAW.

Yall, I wanted to let it get repossessed. I don’t want any of his shit. I’m not the one stealing death certificates and getting my own attorney. Yet I’m getting yelled at over text way too much. And secret family step brother is a total piece of shit. His attorney sent a letter of his demands which was everything with VIN plus everything of any value — plus dads retirement axe and medals. Like everything. Which I find especially scummy because he demanded the only two things the girl friend of 16 year wanted. Fucking piece of shit. I get that both of his parents had personality disorders so he surely does as well — but he has a wife. How is she justifying her husband acting like this? Someone dies and you just run in and try to take it all? I’m told they DID actually try to get the house too. They wanted to take out a reverse mortgage of their own to pay off dads reverse mortgage and they get the house. Yeah… the law don’t work like that.

So we’re selling dads house and vehicles and, now everything. And now that secret family step brother is fighting us in court, we’re going to have to sell EVERYTHING. Yeah, like even the personal shit. If you want it, you gotta buy it from the estate. Which, I don’t want any of it – but that’s harsh, man. Also, all the money we’re spending to fight his attorney will come out of the estate at the end. He’s gonna get 1/5th of the money no matter what — that’s the law. So why is he making it so difficult? Also, he still has one of the vehicles (illegally) and won’t give caretaker sister the millage to estimate it’s value for sell. Last I heard (over a week ago), she was going to have the attorney demand it be returned or report it missing if he doesn’t. Cause… you can’t have a car that’s not yours. Like what are you even thinking? It’s not in your name. How would you even renew the tags? What is happening?

And yes, I DO have all of these text messages muted. But I still see them. And it’s very stressful. And I’m tried of getting shat on by my family. Also, YALL ARE INSANE. This is a fucking soap opera. The step brother from dads secret family is suing us for everything after his death That’s a bad tv plot.

Work Catch-up

I haven’t posted at all about work. Because it’s a cluster fuck. I don’t know if you follow the news, but the US is kinda going up in flames at the moment. I’m a federal employee. So yadda yadda yadda, we gotta get rid of 2000 people. DRP, DRP2, VERA/VSIP — only half there, guys! So they cut all the probationary people. Not enough. Until recently, I didn’t have to worry too much, cause I’m a term. Meaning I was hired for a term. For the past few years, my company has only been letting people hire on as terms and not “perms” (permanent employees). They just extend the terms forever. So until recently, it didn’t affect me. They had to cut perms. My job wouldn’t affect anything. Well, then they decided that you could only have 10% overage as well — overage is the term employees. We have way too many. So until we get down to our goal staff, we can’t renew terms. My term is up January 17, 2026.

Well, they really need some of us. (LISTEN — there is government fat that needs cutting. You know who it is? The lifers that don’t do work and you can’t fire them. But this isn’t touching those people). So they were extending some terms to get us out of the cut window. But then FRAGO23 hit and they wouldn’t let them extend terms anymore. So I get called into a meeting with 3 up my chain of command to inform me my extension had not been processed yet. FUCK. They extended me and then reneged it!

So now I gotta find a job. Husband got laid off in April and so is in his gap year. SO I HAVE OUR HEALTH INSURANCE. We have savings and no debt so we are so awesome. Like everyone else is fucked and we are crazy blessed. But, I still need insurance. We can’t not have insurance. So I gotta find a job. With insurance. Now. And it’s more stressful job hunting when it’s just you with the insurance. I can’t go on husbands insurance — HES ON MINE.

So I’m job hunting! I’ve been to a symposium, a hiring event, and today I had an interview. Fun. Fun times. Not like everyone else isn’t looking for a job too. I fucking hate new jobs.

Migraine

So suffice to say, I’m fucking stressed to hell. I had my regular followup with my neurologist last month and they were like “how are your headaches?” And I was like really fucking bad. Cause anxiety and stress makes migraines worse. I know this. So I’m like — I’m stressed to fuck and my neck is jank. But they were like — well… we’re gonna do an MRI and more physical therapy for your neck anyway. Awesome.

Then last Monday, I started getting a bad headache. Mostly sound sensitive. PT on Tuesday and it started to become light sensitive. Wednesday we had a meeting with my new division at work.

— Wait — more background — were doing a whole new reorg and it is a CLUSTERFUCK. Like I am on the Titanic. So really, I think God is just forcing me out of this shitty job that he knew I wouldn’t leave due to inertia. —

New division is such an epic clusterfuck that you just can’t even say anything. You just have to go — yep. Ok. You wanna die, fine — lets go play music while the ship sinks. Great plan, AMERICA. So combine that with the Migraine and I left early.

Tuesday I had tried one rescue med. Wednesday I decided to try another. I can’t drive on that one so It meant taking Thursday off too. Yeah, neither worked. So Thursday, I call the neurologist twice. Then again once on Friday. And Friday at close, I get a call that they’re calling in a different rescue med.

Well, insurance doesn’t cover it. And their office is closed now for the weekend. The no cost help-pay option only works if insurance covers part of it — then the drug company pays the rest. So that’s no help. GoodRx price was $1,200. FOR HOW MANY? 10 pills. Can I get less? Hold. We can do 3 pills for $400. How much is a fucking dose? 1 pill. How much is one pill? $140. Fucking fill it.

Two days missed work, three rescue meds — one of which cost $140 — didn’t fix the migraine. So Monday I’m at work and my stomach is just going “im gonna barf im gonna barf im gonna barf.” I can wok through pain, but working through “im gonna barf” is significantly more difficult. So I call the neurologist again — I’ve missed 2 days of work and spent over $150 and you haven’t fixed it. And they’re like — yo you gotta go to the hospital or urgent care then. Wait WHAT? What the fuck can urgent care do?

So I call Urgent Care. They can give me two shots. Then if that doesn’t work, the next day, they can hook me up to some IVs. Holy shit, why didn’t anyone tell me this last week? I’m on my way.

So I go and they’re like rate your pain. I fucking hate rating my pain. I have a high pain tolerance and I really think that a 10 should be “I’ve cut my hand off but I can still talk and answer this question.” So I learned that you don’t give them a number, you tell them how it is affecting your life. So I was like driving makes me want to cry, I feel like I ate ecoli tainted mexican food, I’ve missed 2 days of work, and I paid $150 for a PILL. ONE PILL. Do you know how much ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS IS? And now I’m here even though this means I have to work late to make it up. “So 8 then?” Sure. Oh and, obviously, my head feels like it’s in a vice grip, but we discussed that’s easier to sit through than the barf thing.

So they gave me a shot in each side of my ass on Monday.

It’s Wednesday and I think we’re finally over the hump. I did think it was totally gone but I do admit that typing this, I have a bit of a headache.

It’s stress. Stress is going to kill me.

So this is what’s happening with me.

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I wanted to text my friends to let them know my drama cause I know it’s unhealthy to just bottle shit up and die. 

I also wanted to send my brother in law and sister in law a very abridged version so everyone can keep my mother in law from asking me about it. 

Then I thought, I’ll just post my trauma! Link the friends and cut it down for the in laws.  I’m so smart!

First we gotta background this shit. 

So like two years ago (maybe less?) my dad almost died from an infected ball hair.  He’s super diabetic cause he doesn’t take care of himself.  And then when his doctor was like, “you a diabetic.” He literally told us all “you’re not really a diabetic until you’re on insulin.” So naturally, he ended up needing insulin.  But he still never took care of himself.  And diabetics don’t handle infections well.  So he ends up hospitalized for an unknown infection.  It took days to find because I guess no one looked at his balls.  Which, fair,  makes sense, really. 

Anyway, he almost died.  And my family was insistent that someone needed to be with him 24 hours a day.  So shifts were arranged via group texts. 

I live 90 miles away with a full time job.   Not to mention I don’t even like that bastard, so I’m not taking a shift. 

Then after, I think, 2 months in the hospital he was sent to a super posh rehab.  Like live music in the cafeteria and golf having rehab.  But apparently, he needed multiple visitors per day because he thinks we’ve abandoned him.

Did I mention I hate this bastard?

So for months, I’m getting multiple texts PER DAY making arrangements to baby him (his dogs even visited every day).  And my mental health is suffering and I’m just becoming enraged at the lengths everyone has to go through for this son of a bitch. 

So I vent to my brother’s wife.  She tells me, they (my siblings) fully expect me to help so if I’m not going to, I need to let them know and to be asked to be removed from the chats.  That’s reasonable. 

NOTE: While venting about this my brother yells at me that SOMEONE’S IN THE HOSPITAL!  Keep that in mind for later. 

So that’s when my family disowned me.  It was very hard but I accepted this was the price of mental health.  Later, I made up with my brother because I like him.  He was more chill once things settled down.  Also, he’s hosted the last two Thanksgiving’s and I’m the only one in my family who showed up.  Well, one sister was at the last one.  But considering they live within sight of his house on the same block, fuck that. 

So now we’re up to this year.  My father still won’t take care of his health.  He won’t do stretches or try to be more mobile. So he can’t put on socks.  So he just wears his old shoes without socks.  And gets a blister.  His girlfriend notices it when she’s taking care of him and cleans it up.  Then goes to work.  Comes back the next day and it’s clearly red.  Yep, infection.  So he goes to the hospital.  Infection went to the bone so they amputated half his foot. 

Now remember how I said note my brother’s anger at me bowing out last time?  Well my brother’s family wouldn’t be involved this time.  They haven’t seen him in over a year because he disowned THEM.  Yep.  Even though they took care of him when he was dying.  And my brother’s wife is venting about how angry my sister is that they aren’t helping and I was just like “welcome to my side.  The side of the evil assholes.” You give everything and it’s not going to be good enough.  This man won’t even talk to MY NEPHEWS. 

Ok, you are mostly caught up. 

Last month, so less than a month ago, husband and I go down there for my nephews highschool graduation.  My sister and dads girlfriend are the only ones taking care of him because literally everyone else on earth hates him.  You see any friends?  I don’t. 

Sister says he’s doing really bad mentally so I begrudgingly go by to say hello.  He was very weak and frail.  Can’t get up or down by himself.  They have to take him to the toilet.  Really nursing home territory, but you tell my miserable sister that.  Anyway we did our due diligence.  Which oddly enough, means we had seen him more recently than my bro or my other sister. 

Semi relevant – last week was OTHER sisters birthday.  So I called.  Good God, what a mistake.  Stuck on the phone for two hours and just sent me into a complete mental spiral downward.  SHE LOST HER JOB! She finally had a job and an apartment and she lost it and can’t afford her rent and IM THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS THIS SHIT STORM IS COMING.

Very dark place mentally.  Husband is my rock though.  It’s not my business.  Stay out of it.  Maybe just never talk to your sisters. Reasonable suggestion.

Back to dad. Now we’ve known that he needs 24 hours care and my sister and the girlfriend have been doing it.  If they can’t, they have to hire a nurse or sitter. Sister has posted this drama all over social media.  But she never asked for help or money.  My brother’s wife even offered to go clean her house or dog-sit for my sister.  But she wouldn’t help with dad because dad kinda hates her whole family. 

Then last week (I just checked my phone, so not even a week ago), sister texts that she’s hiring hospice to help with dad.  Good.  They need some help.  Everyone texts that their condolences blah blah. 

BTW, no one even knows other sister is unemployed and should probably be helping out…

Then she sends a very long text about how heartbroken and beaten down she is that all of this has been on her shoulders and we’re all pieces of shit and she’s spent her savings on dad and blah blah. 

I mean, fair for me, but you never asked for help much less money from anyone.  Also, you don’t have to be the one taking care of him.  Let his girlfriend do it.  Or better yet, a nice nursing home! Somehow you are the entire codependent triangle AT THE SAME TIME.  Rescuer – Victim – Prosecutor.  Like I’ve been in therapy 20 years trying to break this triangle and you just like made it your triforce.  Well done. 

Well, my brother’s wife shot back that she’s reached out to help numerous times, just not willing to help directly with dad.  That was that. 

So this whole time sister has been slapping this drama on social media and how she’s all alone in this.  Hell, my fucking mother in law even asked about it last weekend. 

Like I’ve tried to explain “disowned” to her for two years but she just doesn’t get it. 

Then yesterday, I happen to hop on Facebook.  I don’t do that daily anymore.  (Note, my brother isn’t even on Facebook.)    There’s a post there by my sister tagging my father announcing that he is dying.  She’s tagging him in it so his friends that wish to say goodbye can come do so.

What the fuck?  You just not gonna tell anyone? 

So I screenshot it and send it to my brother’s wife cause I ain’t calling my crazy sister.  She’s in jury duty so she sends it to my brother and tells him to go over there and see what is going on.  (They haven’t seen Dad in over a year as were dads wishes).  So I call my brother and I tell him about how I knew he’d been in decline but when we saw him he was perfectly lucid and to let me know what’s going on. 

So they (brother and his wife) call me last night.  Yep, he dying.  Well, maybe? 

Apparently, this weekend he just started to decline rapidly and they don’t know why.  But he’s on hospice so it’s not like he’s going to the doctor.  They have him in a hospital bed and he can’t get up or move.  You can barely understand him.  They think he’s got days.  His girlfriend says it’s like he just doesn’t want to live anymore.  He won’t eat.  They’re having to change his diapers.  He’s in tons of pain.  Apparently, he’s confused and asking for people who aren’t there. 

So…

Um…

What do I do here, exactly?

They invited me to stay at their place if I want to come down this weekend which I suppose I kinda have to.  Like not for that asshole, dad.  But for my siblings.  I love my brother. 

My sister will hate me no matter what and she needs someone to hate so OK. 

They said I should call my sister (I’m the one who told THEM but I didn’t call my sister who told Facebook he’s dying but not his family).  I called.  She didn’t answer.  I texted.  No text back.  Actually, last week I texted her after her text rant that I wanted to send her some diamond art coasters that is a very mindless zen art project she could easily pick up and put down.  Never got a reply.   I’m telling y’all, hates me.  I told her I’d try to call again today.  I’ll do that when I get home and have husband support. 

As for visiting, I don’t know?  I mean… I guess?  Husband thinks the best thing to do is follow brothers lead.  Husband also points out that we don’t even know what things will look like this weekend (as in how fast is he declining?).  He could also just be like this for years, who the hell knows? 

Brother thinks it will be soon though.  So like I guess go down and take his favorite cake (since he apparently won’t eat).  But like we’re just gonna be there awkwardly standing around?  Will he even recognize us?  And hate will be oozing from my sister. 

I just don’t know.  What a cluster fuck. 

I asked them if we should call other sister (WHO NO ONE KNOWS DOESN’T HAVE A JOB) and none of us wanted to do that.  Even brother was like “she’ll see it on Facebook.”

Oh what a fucked up family situation. 

IM IN METAL DISTRESS.  TELL MY MOTHER IN LAW I DON’T WANT TO BE ASKED ABOUT IT.  This is not the time to try to explain these crazy ass dynamics to someone who hasn’t figured out what a carb is for 8 years and doesn’t understand that they hate me. 

So this is 85% of my brain capacity right now.  I’ve got stress tummy.  I’m just trying to get through my day.  Do I call? Do I visit?  I DON’T KNOW.  What gets me judged as least evil, I guess?

And everyone always says I’ll regret not forgiving my father but even if I were capable of that, it’s kinda too late. And I ain’t anywhere near that.  His chances died with my mother. 

…Or maybe when he killed my dog, Smokey, and laughed about it,  there was just no coming back. 

But he can never make amends to my mother and I hate him more for that than anything else. 

UPDATE:  Oh fuck me.  Ok. 

*C is the miserable sister taking care of dad. 

*J is the loser sister who doesn’t have a job. 

*H is my brother’s wife.

I just talked to H.  C texted J to ask why she wasn’t visiting. (Also, somehow they know she doesn’t have a job).  J asked why she needed to.  C says he’s dying.  J says she might come tomorrow. 

H calls J.  J says she doesn’t have a job and doesn’t have gas money.  H says she’ll pay for her gas, she needs to see dad.  Then…

J goes on a rant about how C’s stress is more important HER stress (it is).  And says she might as well just drink antifreeze and let us smell her body. 

H was like, I just didn’t even respond. 

How do you even begin to explain this shit to anyone?

UPDATE 2: Welp.  I’m here.  Brother called at 3am and said the end is nigh.  So I came down. 

Unfortunately, J is here too.  She won’t talk to anyone but I guess the antifreeze thing didn’t pan out.  Which , really?  You live in an apartment and don’t take care of your car.  You don’t have antifreeze.  You’re too lazy to go get it and too broke to buy it.  What a stupid suicide threat.  And also, you live in an apartment, we would just get a phone call after they cleaned up your biohazard ass. 

Oh my lord, how could you even begin to explain these dynamics to anyone?

I came for my brother.  Also, no one can say I didn’t come. 

Fox News is on the TVs.  So that’s fun. 

I activated my support network this morning.  I’m not sad, but I God I gotta keep the crazy out. 

Fucking Life BS

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First, I would like to start off with a fuck you to Facebook who wants me to update this fun frivolous photo of my dead mother laughing with a funny pool float she bought during her last summer on this Earth. 

Fuck youuuuuuuuu

Also, work sucks.  You know, status quo, now.  We’ve met about half of our “must eliminate ” quota from this fine government regime.  Only 323 more positions to eliminate.  They’ll all take the buy out, right?  Right? Even though literally no one is hiring right now?  It’s totally gonna be fine. 

Also, I called my sister for her birthday.  Man that put me in a dark place.  Like just threw me back into that born-and-raised Codependent Life.  I resisted any urge to reach out to any other family.  To try and hedge against the tsunami coming.  To warn them.  To yell OH MY GOD WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN?  To gossip. 

I do feel that codependency guilt.  Like a lot.  I’m not OK.  But my husband is giving me strength to keep my mouth shut and stay out of that business.  Not my business. 

But like isn’t it?  Now I’m just feeling even more guilty about all the BS shoved on my family.  But like, they don’t HAVE to pick up the bullshit.  If anything, my brother and his family proved that this year.  They were shunning my cold heartedness last time dad almost died and babysitting him 24/7.  They have completely abstained this time.  So like, it can be done by not JUST me.  SIL is talking about how sister is mad at her for not helping.  Yeah, welcome to my world.  Y’all sure judged me last time.  See how it is?

Ugh.  Family trauma.  Dead mom.  POS dad keeps almost dying and now needs 24/7 care but only his girl friend and one sister are taking care of him and they’re drowning.  And of course very resentful of the rest of us.

And now the rest of this other sister bullshit is coming at them and they don’t even know it’s coming.  ONLY I KNOW. 

I mean at least no one’s gonna ask us for money.  Husband got laid off and the entire US wants me to lose my job and y’all voted for it.  So nope, we poor.  Keep off the lawn. 

Speaking of lawn, there was a turtle in the yard today. 

That is all.

Trauma Dump

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ISSUES Are Troubling Me

OK. I got issues. I keep having family nightmares — or I don’t know — bad dreams. Every night lately and yesterday even in my damn afternoon nap. I’d say Gods telling me to contact my family, but I feel like if that were the case, he’d send me a happy memory and not just a lot of fucking trash. Also, they all got my number and they all have my address. I did try to reach out about doing lunch on moms birthday, but my bro said he’d check their schedules and never got back to me. But they had a dinner with my sisters in moms memory. Which I get it, my sisters are right there and I’m 90 miles away but COME ON.

I’m Too Poor for a Therapist

I could probably work this out with a therapist, but I don’t have a therapist. I do have a psychiatrist and it’s $130 to see him. Why? Because we have a lack of every type of medical professional here, including mental health and none of them accept insurance because they don’t have to — they’re overloaded with patients as is. And he only does like 10 minutes to talk about meds — not problems. Psychologists are for THAT. So do I want to pay a hundred-plus dollars to talk to someone? Not really. I want to work on my tattoo.

But I can’t work on my tattoo until I pay back my savings I took out to build the deck (which I have HEAVILY enjoyed for two summers now, BTW — totally worth the cost). That was the deal. I’ll stop throwing boat loads of money at my tattoo until I payback my savings I took out for the deck. And I have paid back the deck — but then I also ended up need to replumb some pool pipes. And then get a whole ass new pool pump last year. And then a new salt cell this year. And next summer I’m gonna need a pool robot. And do I want to replace the pool lights? They haven’t worked for like 3 summers — which I’m told they don’t last very long (they’re actually small LED lights, not the big old pool lights that I used to fear were secretly doors that they could open for the sharks to come out and swim at night). Supposedly a super easy replacement that doesn’t require draining any water — so I might depending on the cost. BUT COST. Yeah I paid back the deck, but thousands went into the other shit. I could have finished the whole damn sleeve by now!

I mean to be fair, the pool is nine summers old. So it’s not that the pool is a clusterfuck, it’s just the age that these things fail. The pipes were in full blast sun and the PVC broke down enough to burst. Repiped — but when they burst, the pool got low enough to run dry and burn out the pump. Of course they don’t make my pump anymore so I couldn’t replace just the electronics, I had to replace the whole damn thing. And salt cells usually only last 5 years, I’m told so ours held in pretty long. So has Clarence the pool robot. He’s about 3 years past usual life expectancy but I did have his under carriage replaced a few years back so that might be why he made it so long.

Therapists Suck

Also, it would take like 5 sessions to catch a therapist up on my problems before we could get anywhere. And of course a TON of time is going to be wasted focusing on me being fat being all of my problems. BECAUSE THAT’S ALWAYS THE CASE. I tried therapy back in like 2000 cause I was suicidal and self harming and the motherfucker thought it was all about me being fat and “socially unacceptable” and that was his plan to go forward. Not to fix generational trauma and abuse — I’m just fat.

By the way, the only time i ever lose weight or maintain weight is when I’m happy. Weight is a symptom not the problem at all. Even when I got skinny after Gastric Bypass I was still miserable. And of course that was just an embarrassing failure. And now I’ve gained 7 pounds because perimenopause is kicking my ass so fucking hard and I’m anxious and I’m depressed and I’m being fucking haunted.

That’s right, I said haunted. Yesterday I had to get out of bed at 6 fucking AM with a panic attack. And it’s just all nightmares. I tried to take an afternoon nap to be happy on my long weekend and catch up on sleep and I woke up in another sweaty nightmare.

Like I have an anxiety disorder. “General Anxiety” I think is the technical term? But I don’t think they mean like “oh she’s generally anxious.” I think they mean we can’t put this in a category of “social anxiety” or anything specific — shes just got a lot of anxiety about fucking everything. And now my GYN is like yeah you have menopausal anxiety. THANKS, LIFE.

Now You’re My Therapist. Be Warned, Shits About to Get Real

So my nightmares have generally been family mess. It’s always family fights. Surprisingly usually set in Florida. So Florida was always our summer vacation. Timeshare. It was moms favorite place and I loved the beach too — but like with my family there’s always gonna be some drama so it’s not like that didn’t just take place in new locations. So yeah, when I was very young and stupid, I looked forward to Florida like crazy. But then it stated just becoming a clusterfuck. And I don’t get why mom loved it so much. I mean maybe she was like yall are a hot mess anyway so we might as well be a hot mess at the beach. But I actually felt horrible the last few years of her life because I felt like I was contributing to the drama. By refusing to just not rock the boat and not let shit go, I’m the bitch. I was the bitch complaing about my sisters so just as bad as them on everyone mental health.

My brother always called me and my sisters “the Golden Girls” — he knew it got under my skin at least like no other. Any fight and “oh they’re the golden girls.” Mother fucker, I’m not the crazy ass one here! I’m just trying to have actual healthy boundaries and not let them get away with their shit! Which let’s start there. I adore my brother. But he’s not blameless. He always lumped me in with my sisters which UGH. And my length of college was a huge running joke in my family — mainly instigated by him. He’d always ask when I was going to finally graduate. There’s a Christmas ornament of a graduate on my dads Christmas tree dated 2009. Did I graduate in 2009? No. They just didn’t have any other personality trait to choose for my ornament. Bro was a nurse, Sister1 was a nurse, Sister2 had a paint set, and I had a graduation outfit. Cause I was in college for 10 years. Not because I’m stupid but because I was trying to get through a lot of shit, okay? Did anyone wanna ask about that? No. It’s funnier not to.

That was part of one of the dreams last night. Like I was getting ready for a party — like a nice dress up party like homecoming or something. But we were in Florida so I only had a few things to choose from and I had gained weight so my best options were too tight. And Sister2 for some reason was supposed to take me or go with me or something (a reoccurring of her always stealing the spotlight in my dreams). I think brother was going to take us because he was mad that we weren’t ready. But I was ready! Sister2 was in the bathtub crying for hours and yelled at me when I went in to get my toothbrush. And in her/moms room there were pills everywhere. Like piles of pills laid out — prescription drug-problem shit. So I show brother and he just gets mad. And why do I want to go to this dance anyway? Because it’s my last year of highschool so I want to go to at least one. But wait, I’m 27 (in the dream) and don’t most people graduate high school at 18? Why am I so late? Did mom hold me back some grades and not tell me? What happened?

Yesterday I was napping and we were in Florida and I had a nice room and Sister2 demanded it and I was super sad because it had windows and views and mine now didn’t. And the windows were open with tons of fresh air and beautiful flowers and scents drifting in… And I go shit all.

And the night before last, we were preparing a party for my nephew. They were making cookies for the party and I really wanted to make some too. But I had to clean so I was vacuuming. And Sister1 was acting like I just didn’t want to make cookies and it was my fault I didn’t get to participate. And then brother was yelling about how dirty everything was. And then I finally went to make a cookie but all the sprinkles were gone — but I was like whatever, I’ll use this icing and then bro got mad and started jerking around the vacuum cleaner cause everythings so filthy and none of us will ever clean anything and he gets the cords all in the icing and it ends up all over the carpet and now we can’t have the party cause I ruined it. And now everyone’s mad at me. Also, I thought Sister1 was teaching nephew how to cook burgers in the kitchen but it was my dad. Which might be my subconscious acknowledging that he’s pretty much a feeble old man now.

Most of the time Florida is over and we have to pack up the cars but Sister2 brought like 3 fucking suitcases and hasn’t packed anything so I gotta do it and clean everything up.

So yeah, are these spooky monster dreams? No. I’m not saying they are. But they are clearly my brain ruminating on something it wants out.

Sister2 was always a problem in Florida. She would always bring way too much clothes that brother and sister1 always bitched about because they took up too much space in the car and on the dolly up to the room and in the room. and Sister2 never went to the beach or wanted to do anything. So they were always mad about that. And as we got older, the problems were worse. She was always a binge eater, so she’d eat all the groceries and everyone would be mad because now there’s no food when we had bought food for the week.

She’s been an alcoholic since I can remember. But can my family just maybe NOT have alcohol? Of course not. So she’d just drink it all and get sloppy drunk and piss herself. She always drunk to get black out drunk. Like that was the goal. And we’d all go down to the beach to enjoy the day and she’d steal money from someone and go across the street to get alcohol to do it again. Once she locked herself in a closet with a 24 pack of beer and there was much screaming and ranting and brother threatening to break down the door. Once she got drunk and left to “go kill herself” — so of course mom was freaking out and we had to go find her. There were quite a few times we had to go find her while she was drunk out of her mind. This was before cellphones. I’m old.

She’s always smoked too. And everyone ALWAYS bitches about it. But it was particularly annoying because she had to inconvenience mom the most. Like in Florida, she wouldn’t go through the living room to get to the balcony to smoke — she had to go into moms room and use that balcony door. And in the house we lost to the second bankruptcy, she couldn’t go through the garage to go outside to smoke, she had to go through moms tiny room which had a sliding door to get out. And even as adults, people bitch about “she’s over there in the corner smoking” or something. When we lived in the apartments, shed toss her cigarettes out the window and the maintenance people got mad and gathered them all up and piled them outside our door in moms flowers. Pretty sure I had to clean that up.

And my brother and sister1 always hated her. So I always had to deal with it. She pissed herself and passed out in the living room? Mom wants me to get her to her room. Then I gotta clean the damn area rug and I’m covered in piss. Once she passed out on the lawn and I had to go get her immediately before the neighbors saw. Why am I always the one taking care of this shit? Cause brother and sister moved out and I’m the youngest. But even in our first house we lost to bankruptcy, I was cleaning her messes. Like she was bulimic. But for some reason she threw up in a 5 gallon bucket in her closet instead of the bathroom. Who the fuck knows why. So do you know how bad a 5 gallon bucket of vomit smells? Real bad. And do you know it’s too heavy for mom to get? Yeah, so I gotta do it. Get it downstairs and across the yard to dump it. Like am I the vomit bucket fairy? It’s like people think trash and recycling just disappears if you leave it long enough. THAT’S BECAUSE I’M THE VOMIT AND PISS FAIRY.

This might be why I’m so anal about my house not smelling bad, BTW.

And brother was always just angry and disgusted with us. We had far too many pets because dad dumped his dogs at our place. So we had like 10 Beagles to breed and train. Oh and who had to go hose the dog shit out of the kennels? Yeah, ME. So much dog shit. Wet stinky dog shit being hosed off concrete. By me. And I never did it enough so I felt bad for the dogs. I was the only one who cared to go pet them.

And the cats just used the dining room as a litter box. Just shit everywhere. And mom worked 4 jobs so the only one ever cleaning anything up was me and I wasn’t good at it or did it enough so of course the house is always filthy and it’s always me getting yelled at for it (not by mom — she was just broken and trying to survive). Cause I’m one of the disgusting worthless golden girls.

You know, I cleaned up a lot of shit and vomit and piss was growing up, now that I think of it.

Anyway, Sister2 was also insane and abusive. I couldn’t sleep cause she’d wake me up by hitting me and yelling and shit. Usually because my TV was on. I liked to fall asleep to QVC and I was allowed to. But no matter how low the volume was, it was too loud for her. And after school she’d be mean and yell and throw shit at me. Like hard core throwing shit at my head. Once I flipped the recliner ducking something. She was like a harpy.

That’s why my dog hated her. He wasn’t a bad dog, he was defensive of me. The only being to ever give a shit about my child self. I slept in moms bed a lot cause I had this intense fear mom would die. And she had a california king bed and I was scared of the dark… and sister2. So the dog would sleep at the end of the bed. And sister2 would walk all the damn way across the house past their bathroom to use moms bathroom in the middle of the night (seriously, WHY WAS SHE ALWAYS HARASSING MOM) — but if me and dog were in there he’d just growl and not let her in the room. He was just protecting me. But she couldn’t do anything when mom was home. But after school she could trick the dog by baiting him and wrapping him in blankets to throw in the closet — only to let him out right before mom got off work so she wouldn’t know.

Bitch be crazy. So dog hated her and attacked her. So dog had to go. Mom says she gave dog away but dad said he tied dog up and drug him out in the woods to shoot him. He told me that after school when I got home and dog wasn’t there. Why are these people so fucking insane?

I mean, I know the answer. Sister2 has been diagnosed with antisocial personality behavioral disorder. I’m sure that’s dads problem too. And dad is for sure a narcissist to rule them all. I didn’t know that when I was little so I idealized him. Everyone else hated dad, but I loved him. When I visited his apartment, he’d buy men CANNED COKE. We were too poor to have that shit — so like awesome. He’d only come over to the house to work in the garage on wood projects — but I’d go down there and watch. His friend would sometimes give me scrap blocks to play with and help me put together little creations I made with the scraps. The friend, not dad.

Those weren’t the only dog problems. We had a newfoundland in fucking Alabama that we just tied up in the backyard when I was really little. She was pretty neglected. I did take care of her food and water, but she was so big and drooly and matted and smelly that I didn’t really like doing it. Not that I was ever mean to the dog — no I petted her, and we played in the backyard together. But I was the only one to take care of her and when she died dad went on a rant about how I was the only one to give a shit about that dog and I felt existentially terrible because I didn’t like taking care of her and knew she was neglected.

Then we got the dog that hated my sister that dad may or may not have killed. I liked that one. But I couldn’t save him or protect him either so I swore to never let down another dog. I couldn’t even get him out of the closet.

We DID try family therapy once. It was a group session with us all in the room. And like yall expect me to talk about my abusers — WHILE THEY’RE IN HERE? Yeah fuck you, I’m fine. I’m great even.

But when I was little, I actually did believe that. I didn’t know I had problems or was unhappy. I didn’t know I lived in an abusive codependent household. In FACT, I was so jealous of the mentally depressed girl and troubled girls at school cause they go so much extra attention. I tried to hide in church and being a bubble Christian. Gotta be crazy to be interesting, I thought. Then like 5 years later I busted and went bat shit insane. So there’s that.

I used to think my sister was haunted by a demon. I’m not sure I don’t still think that. I do know she is highly troubled. I remember once she was crazy drunk and I was trying to get away and go to my room but she was taunting me. I was studying my Bible and she asked me to read the Bible to her. I passed, ’cause hey Satan, not today. And it was just this creepy horror movie taunt about why didn’t I love her enough to read the Bible to her. Now that I’m older – I’m not throwing out the demon thing – but I do know she had multiple abortions. Maybe she was trying to drown that out. She was obsessed with this asshole for years and YEARS — like a decade. Fucking Ryan. But he never loved her back.

It’s pitiable, really. Truly. But does that negate all of my suffering at her hand?

As far as Dad, everyone hated him when I was little, but then it flipped. I had a mental breakdown and realized hey — Dad is a son of a bitch. He’s been trying to ruin moms life for 40 years. So much of our family is insanely fucked up and this motherfucker is why. He sprung a secret ass family on me when my step brother was 16 and moving in the next week. Then yelled at me for not being accepting. Not that I was unaccepting, I was emotionless as I had been trained to be from a very young age. I didn’t say shit. But dad projected that I was angry and was furious.

Oh yeah, after the first bankruptcy, I moved in with dad. See, he had moved back into our house (not as like being with mom, just like — hey I live downstairs now). And we lost the house. So we had to get apartments so we got two two bedrooms and sister2 lived with mom and I lived with dad — because this was before I knew dad was an evil son of a bitch. And that’s when I found out secret step brother was moving in. (Looking back, 30 years later — this is why I wasn’t allowed to keep anything in “MY” room at dads — makes sense, it was really his room). It was a cluster fuck cause I was in high school and people were like wait, you live with your dad? Cause mom was everyone’s beloved teacher (rightfully so) and I came to school with her. And even from my youngest age we always centered holidays around dad. They were at his apartment or his house. No presents could be opened until the video recorder was set up for dad to watch later.

I was just dead inside when I lived with dad. Like emotion-wise. Not ailment wise. The stress was killing me I just didn’t know it. I was on smooth muscle relaxers for the constant stomach cramping pain and vomiting. But I was so broken, I didn’t even think I had problems. Anyway, after a year of that, my brother and his wife were like “Mrs C can’t live with dad anymore” and we got a three bedroom so I could move in with mom and sister2. Yay! More abusive, psychological warfare, and piss!

Then we got the second house we lost to bankruptcy (fun FACT! This is where moms flamingos are from). Then I moved to college. And started getting therapy. And started hating dad. But like, now everyone loves dad or at least sees him as worthy of living in his delusion. So last year when he almost died because he refuses to control his diabetes and got an infected hair on his balls and went septic, I didn’t wanna baby sit. And somehow I’M THE BAD GUY?

So they like disowned me for the year, right? My sisters still haven’t opened the christmas gifts I sent them. They didn’t come to Thanksgiving at my brothers. But Sister1 weirdly stayed here when she was in town and needed a free bed. It was awkward.

I finally talked to SIL the other day — after like 9 months of unreturned calls. I mentioned my banishment and she was like naw, they just don’t communicate. She says she never talks to them either but thats not true cause I have facebook and see photos. I wasn’t invited to the family vacation but they’re playing the “everyone is always invited” card. And my sisters have started commenting on my posts sometimes. Like WTF? Last week there was a post by dads girlfriends that mentioned Sister2s cats were leaving at the end of the year. I was curious but didn’t know what was up. Cause I was disowned and no one talks to me anymore.

Background on Sister2s cats. When we lost the second house, mom moved in with my brother and his wife and Sister2 moved into my brothers old house. She was supposed to pay rent but hardly ever did. Eventually SIL got super self conscious that mom was running her house way better than her so they kicked mom out to live with Sister1. Well, the only way to get Sister2 out of their house was to sell it. So they did and mom convinced Sister1 to take in Sister2 for 4 months. So Sister2s cats went to live with Dads girlfriend. But Dads girlfriend doesn’t even live at her house. She kinda lives between that house and dads. And Sister2s cats don’t get along with her pets so they’ve been confined to a single bedroom for… oh 10 years now. Sister2 never visits them.

Yes, Sister2 has tried to move in with me. No. Yes, Sister2 did try to get me to take her cats for “just a month.” Then they wanted me to take them again after Jack died (hence my keeping Louie a secret at first).

Sister1 is just a completely bitter bitch now. So hateful. BY THE WAY — mom was afraid to move in with my husband and I because she said she’d destroy us like she did with my brother and SIL (getting kicked out) and turning Sister1 into a little dad. So sad. It wasn’t mom, it was that fucking leach.

Sister1 hates Sister2 and is so angry that she’s been stuck with her since mom died. But like, kick that bitch out, I’m not taking her. And there’s resentment from Brother and Sister1 that I lead this great life 90 miles away and they still have to take care of Dad and I refuse to help cause fuck that asshole. I’m polite and cordial. But no, fuck them.

And it’s so weird cause Sister1 has this facebook persona of the sweetest most hilarious person ever. Even my inlaws like her. But she’s not that person. But everyone buys it and adores her. I think husband would buy it if he wasn’t there witnessing her interacting with me. It’s really weird. I like her facebook persona. But she’s a wretched bitch.

My whole family has always had this weird two faced ability to be loved by people. Like I worked at Target for 5 years. Got sister2 a job there and people would be like “OH MY GOD, YOU’RE SISTER2’s SISTER?” Like bitch no, I’ve been here 5 years — she’s my sister. And Dad manages to get affair partners and wives and now a girlfriend. And Sister1 is beloved on social media.

IS IT ME? This might be one of my biggest reasons to absolutely refuse to have two faces. It’s fucking disgusting. But like, am I the problem? Because we could just have a fake holiday with the fake personas but like I cant do it. I hate you. I can’t let it go.

Maybe it me.

Is it me?

Yesterday, I was on a family group chat — the first in almost a YEAR. Sister2 has a new job with business cards (holy fuck, she only ever had a job like twice in her 50ish years). Everyone’s congratulating her (yes, I did too). And Dads girlfriend says she’ll tell her cats. Sister2 replies that she hopes to have an apartment by February. So that’s new.

But this dream haunting was already going on before that. Every night — fights with my sisters, sometimes my brother. Sister2 getting wasted and destroying everyone’s lives. Me getting fucked over so Sister2 can have what she wants. Me being blamed for everything.

The holidays are coming. what the fuck is happening for the holidays? Last year brother hosted Thanksgiving but I was the only family that went. He said hes not doing it again but SIL says they are. I thought about saying I’d do it — but like, that means I have to invite them all and have one of those fake persona parties. And pretend like yall haven’t ignored me for a year. I just want my brother’s family to come.

Works been a shit show too. I got into with my bosses (rightfully so). After one meeting, I was discussing it with two colleagues and my coworker-friend said she didn’t listen cause once me and x start going at it, she tunes out. I was like fuck me — I’m AW. He’s a guy who does no work and talks an ungodly amount. So at every meeting he talks for like 30 minutes and fucking everyone hates him and just doesn’t listen because it makes no sense so we just ignore it until it stops. AM I AW NOW?

AM I THE PROBLEM HERE?

This brings back a lot of childhood trauma. Sister2 is batshit (verified with paperwork) but she doesn’t KNOW she’s batshit cause the crazy. So when I was little I used to cry about it to mom and ask if I was like her. And mom would tell me no, of course not. But I was like — she doesn’t know she’s like her so HOW WOULD I KNOW?

And now I’m having an existential crisis as I type this — HOW WOULD I KNOW?

It could be me. I could just be a human piece of garbage. Maybe I am and I just don’t know it. What the difference between I have therapy and healthy boundaries and I’m just a bitch? I’m the only one who has to go to a psychiatrist to function.

I mean I do hate everybody.

Holy fuck I think it’s me.

Would the world be better without me? Cause I’m gonna be honest — it might be without dad and Sister2. Like I’m sorry I’m being honest. Mom would have been better. Sister1 would be better. I’d not have needed 20+ years of therapy.

Maybe I’m just a despicable fat blob of a toxicity like my uncle in law said. Well, he didn’t say the FAT part — I’m adding that on. I honestly have no idea right now. Wheres the ice cream? I need ice cream.

How do I make the nightmares stop? I can’t even fucking take a nap and pretend I’m dead because they’ll be there.

I’m literally going to cry with ice cream now. This is why I’m fat.

I suck.

You talk about your scars not your wounds.

Posted on | by cursingcats.com | Leave a Comment on You talk about your scars not your wounds.

I’m watching a YouTube of two doctors (Family Med and a Psychologist) discussing mental health. It’s very interesting. The title comes from that. This is over and hour, but right now, they’re talking about people sharing their stories. Specifically people sharing their stories online. The psychologist said the title: “talk about your scars, not your wounds.” He expanded on that to mean, talking about things you can discuss without breaking down and having nightmares for a week. If your tik tok goes viral, be prepared for all the feedback on your trauma. So don’t talk about something that’s still raw.

Luckily I’m 40 with a fuck ton of therapy under my belt. I find that talking about my fucked up shit helps me. It gets it out there. Like it’s not a secret. It’s not my fault it happened. I’m not the only one that went through that shit. So it helps ME in being open like “hey, this is a part of who I am. There’s reasons I’m fucked up, please understand.” But also a bigger reason I talk about my mental health is to show other people, yo — “you’re not the only one.” And then there’s also a little bit of total selfishness.

How do I explain… There’s some people I know of — who have a lot of trauma of their own. And they know me very superficially through third parties. If you don’t know anything about me — but you hear my accomplishments, I sound like green pasture, right? I moved away from my family, went to college, graduated, have a great job, married, live in an amazing house, have a funny cat, post pictures of me and my friends by my own pool. One of these people was having a major psychological crisis and I found out that part of their trauma was comparing themselves to ME because we’re the same age. I was BLOWN AWAY.

So like, I want people to know, it ain’t all roses. I grew up with a lot of family trauma. When I finally moved away, I broke down. I failed multiple semesters of college. I was self harming and suicidal and agoraphobic. I finally sought out therapy. Let’s insert an *AGAIN* here. I had sought out therapy secretly when I was old enough before I moved away from my family. I was so good at having no feelings and presenting a fake front, that after two sessions with this man, he decided to give me his treatment plan. It included seeing a dermatologist about my acne and also working on losing weight and dressing better — which I took offense because I picked out my best outfit for this bullshit. It was Lane Bryant pants and shirt! That’s quality, expensive shit. I remember this so well. It was dark brown dress pants that flared but they had a rough edge on the bottom. The shirt was a green plaid button up — but one that was cut to form fit and flatter. But I mean, I was super fat, so it’s not gonna look GREAT on me. But I was wearing good clothes that fit and were stylish. It was my favorite outfit. So I pushed back. And he said this exact quote “Society doesn’t find THIS acceptable” — while using a two arm gesture referring to my entire body. Cause I was fat.

I left and cried in the car. When I got home (no one knew I was seeking therapy or even needed it – I was totally happy). I stayed in my room for THREE DAYS and just cried. I couldn’t wear those clothes ever again. It was highly traumatic. So it took a few years before I was willing to go again. But back in 2003/4ish, I was rock bottom. So I went. And they put me on meds and a standing Monday appointments with a behavioral (talk) therapist. Eventually, I started going to CODA for codependent people who come from fucked up families. So I was hitting the root of my issues finally. And it was hard but it was worth it. I only did it because I was literally going “At worst I kill myself in the morning.” In the vein of Wesley’s quote from the Dread Pirate Roberts in the Princess Bride.

And yeah, I didn’t graduate college until 10 years AFTER highschool. Even though I was in school that entire time. I was a joke. Literally, it was a family joke. There’s a Christmas ornament on my Dad’s Christmas tree of me as a graduate — from looooooong before I graduated. Because they got everyone custom ornaments like a nurse and shit but thats what they chose for me. Not something like a painter or reflecting a hobby. Nope. Also, no one told me I could have all those failed semesters wiped from my record due to mental illness so my GPA is a 2.1. Yeah, ouch.

Yall. I am rambling now. I did not intend for ANY OF THAT to be in this post. I just got going. The POINT of this post was supposed to be a very dark humor post about an incident that happened this week.

Incident is too strong of a word. Let’s just say – something that came up.

I was browsing Reddit cause that’s most of my time. There was a thread on “Ask Reddit” about what you can’t understand how people can afford. And one of the joke/maybe not so joking ones was “A second family.” Because dude, most of us are barely affording our lives — you’re gonna have a whole ass second one? Who has the money and TIME for that!? I come home and watch youtube because I’m too exhausted to commit to an actual show or movie. Yall are juggling multiple partners and kids? What?

But… MY DAD HAD A SECOND FAMILY! And I had totally forgotten until I posted about it in this Reddit thread. Like for real — LOL — Laugh Out Loud. I forgot my dad had a second family.

So I was messaging with my husband like woah, dude, I can’t believe that slipped my mind. I wonder if my psychiatrist even knows? Like would I mention my stepbrother (I wouldn’t) and be asked how it was growing up with a step family? “Oh no no, I didn’t know he existed until I was 16.” We had declared bankruptcy for the second time and lost our house for the second time (the one with the pool where I got my moms flamingos from). We couldn’t afford a three bedroom apartment, so my evil sister moved in with mom and I moved in with dad. (Getting fucked up, right?) Then my other sister had a car wreck and had to move back home so she moved into my room at dads.

Dad called a family meeting. Not in a healthy way. He does that shit in weird ways. Like he went to help at 911 as a firefighter so he could die a hero. So we had a family meeting about how he wasn’t going to come back. It was weird.

So family meeting. Over spaghetti. I hate my dads spaghetti. He buys the chunky sauce that has like whole ass chunks of carrots and onions and tomatoes and shit. That aint right. So he announces my step brother is moving in. (My older siblings were old enough to remember the initial affair, marriage, attempt to take us away from mom – so I don’t think this was huge news to them). I didn’t even know I had a stepbrother. Apparently, he was moving in through.

Listen, by this time, I was checked the fuck out. I wasn’t remotely upset mentally. I was withdrawn eventually from this situation by a charge from my sister in law that “yo — she’s not OK, she can’t live there anymore.” I was so good at hiding and not acknowledging my emotions that I didn’t know I HAD them. I was really fucked up medically. Stress will kill you. I was having episodes of stomach pain that would bow me over. I was seeing doctors and on smooth muscle relaxers. It was all stress. But I wasn’t self aware enough to know that, much less convey that to a doctor.

So this news wasn’t distressing. I don’t think I even had a “here we go again with more bullshit” reaction. I had no reaction. So I got up to get a glass of milk. Perhaps my stomach was acting up? This was read by my father as me reacting. So I got chewed out about how we’ve always been treated as superior. My step brothers always known we had it better than him and a better life. It’s not his fault and we WILL accept him. Like “OK, dude, jesus – I’m just getting some milk.” I distinctly remember the moment and where I was standing by the ugly apartments moon light over a counter between the kitchen and dining room. He moved in and slept on the couch.

So yeah, my dad totally had a second family. He had an affair while i was a baby. He got her pregnant. He named my step brother my actual brothers middle name. Then they decided to be a happy family so he decided to divorce mom. She wanted us to call her mom and for him to get full custody (probably so he wouldn’t have to pay child support). I was too young to remember though.

No idea why it just completely died and no one told me we had a step brother LOL

I’d even stay at my dads apartment sometimes (cause I didn’t know he was a bastard — and he could afford canned coke. And he had a NES). He had a spare room “for me.” But I wasn’t allowed to decorate it at all. Probably because it was also my step brothers room. So that makes sense now. I was allowed to leave one stuffed animal there. I chose my BEST ONE. It was a huge soft lion with long arms that were weighted so he could give you hugs. What a fucking waste.

Man, I bet all of this shattered my moms heart. Especially, when I bragged that dad bought me a 12-pack of cans of surge! Why didn’t she ever tell me anything? I only found out when I was adult and decided dad could go fuck himself on my own volition. She said she didn’t want to ruin my relationship with him. FUCK THAT. Mistakes were made.

But yeah, so my dad had a second family. What a weird thing. Also, what a weird thing to forget. Like I have so much childhood trauma, I forgot about that one. I mean listen, my dad is a clusterfuck. (My sister is worse in affects on my own life). I’ve gone extremely low contact with dad. Unlike my siblings, I don’t pretend to give a fuck. Because… I kinda don’t. What a bastard.

Any time they expect things from him or are surprised at something he did, I bring up Penny the cat. He fucked that cat up so much that she lost her hair and lived on the top stair by the attic. She had been the sweetest cat when I stayed at dads apartment in my fake room. My sister watched her while my dad was out of town and dad could never get her back because she hid from him and refused to be caught. She grew her hair back. Great cat. So yeah. Like if dad mentally fucked up a CAT that bad, why are you expecting him to do decent with humans? The man is incapable. Stop it. He couldn’t even meet the emotional needs of a fucking cat. He can’t meet yours.

So yeah, sorry this was so deep. I was literally amused and validated when I realized I forgot about my dads second family. Like oh yeah, that’s why I hate that guy. I’m right.

He had a motorcycle and a boat too. While we had nothing and lost two houses and mom had 4 jobs. What a fucking bastard.

Twitch Twitch

Posted on | by cursingcats.com | Leave a Comment on Twitch Twitch

So you’re telling me that reading reddit on my phone for 9 hours a day for the past 4 weeks and freaking out about everything is bad for me?

I’m stressed. I’ve also still not got anything to do at my job. Not for lack of trying. So until I get access to the damn training system, I’m stuck. So I just play with my phone all day and monitor my emails hoping someone has a meeting I can attend. It’s causing eye strain. ‘Cause my phone is tiny.

And I’m already freaking out about our summer plans. Well, really my sisters. I’ve recently concluded that not only do I not actually like my sisters, but I hate who I become when I’m around them. Even Mr C says I get way more snippy around them. He understands — but the point is, it happens.

One sister was abusive as fuck growing up. I mean take your pick. She used to weigh me every day and I remember when I hit 100lbs and she ran to “tattle” on me to mom. And she was bulimic — but for some reason she threw up in 5 gallon buckets in her closet. Who had to help empty those buckets with mom? Yep. It was so gross and smelly. Ugh. And she’d wake me up hitting me and yelling. I liked to sleep with QVC on and I was allowed to. I’d turn it down to the lowest setting but she’d randomly come in my room and wake me up by hitting me and screaming at me because my TV was bothering her (no, our rooms weren’t even next to each other). So yeah, I’m a really fucking light sleeper now. Ask Mr C. And I still have nightmares about her. I’M FORTY. You have nightmares about Lovecraftian creatures? I have nightmares about my sister.

Then there was Smokey. My moms birthday present — a black mutt dog. That dog loved my ass. And he hated my sister for beating me He’d try to defend me. The only thing on the planet that actually gave two shits about me at the time (Mom had 4 jobs, give her a break). I’d sleep with mom a lot and Smokey would always sleep with me. And my sister has always had this weird thing about bugging mom (Seriously. In Florida, she cant go through the living room door to get to the balcony to smoke, she has to go into the master bedroom where mom is to go through THAT door. Same with the house on Golf Road. Couldn’t go outside through the kitchen — had to go through the door in moms bedroom. And when we were little — use the bathroom literally right next to her room? Nope — gotta go use the one in moms room on the other side of the house). So she’d come in moms room at night. And fuck if Smokey was gonna let her near me and mom if he had anything to say about. Even in the middle of the night. He was pretty awesome.

She started abusing Smokey too. After school, when mom was at her second job, she’d trap him in a blanket and throw him in a closet until right before mom got home. So I mean, Smokey hated her. It was a problem cause Smokey would draw blood. So one day I got home and no Smokey. I asked what happened to him and Dad joked about how he finally tied him up and drug him out in the woods behind the house and shot him.

Yeah, fun memories. Mom swears she gave him away. I never will really know though, will I? She was never able to present Smokey to me or let me visit him. Even when I begged for my wedding present to just let me see Smokey again. But she never changed her story. Anyway, that’s why people think I hate dogs. I won’t have one. Smokey was my dog. And I couldn’t protect him. And even if they did give him away, he didn’t know I had nothing to do with it. He lost his person. He was betrayed, might as well have been me. I hated having her over with Jack. I warned Mr C and mom that I didn’t want her near Jack. Ugh.

Then there was the time she wanted to kill me. I forget the reason, but I ran to my others sisters room to hide and locked the door. She tried to break the door down with a hammer. She beat a hole straight through the door before she gave up. It was like the fucking SHINING.

Then she just became a raging alcoholic. She’d get blackout drunk and pass out and piss herself where ever. Who had to get her into bed and clean it up? Oh that’s me. Unless she passed out on the lawn where at least there was not vomit or pee but “the neighbors might see.” (Like I said, Mom wasn’t perfect. We were best friends when mom died, but there were a lot of years where we were not close after I finally moved away). I was super into Christianity back then – total bubble Christian in high school. I didn’t even curse! And she’d get really blasted drunk and beg me to read the Bible to her. I’d refuse and she taunt me. I’m pretty sure girl has demons. Like I’m serious, yall. I may not be a bubble Christian anymore, but I’m still a Christian. Might as well have been a devil taunting me.

She also used threats of suicide and self harm as emotional abuse against us. She still self harms. Wears it proudly on her arm for all of us to see. Oddly enough she’s carved a cross into her arm. See the difference is, when I self harmed I hid it. Because I’m not an attention seeker — I was just really fucked up. So when I’d rip open my own skin, no one ever saw it. Cause I have standards. Pretty sure she’s still a raging alcoholic too. Last time I was at my sisters house (she lives with my other sister. Short story is Sister never left the nest — mom moved in the sister so other sister did too) So yeah, I sit down in moms bedroom chair thinking of mom. I look into her basket of books to see what she was reading… oh a giant bottle of alcohol. Don’t think that was moms… We used to do alcohol raids but it never did any good. Other sister says she’s letting the drinking slide because she’s afraid she’ll kill herself (They’re both in black holes since mom died).

She also drove drunk all the time which led to lots of accidents. Once she ran into a parked car and got arrested. She was sentenced to live in a halfway house. It was nice while she was gone. She was diagnosed with Antisocial Personality Behavioral Disorder. She came back though. Nothing ever changed.

It’s funny. This week a deep seated fear I haven’t had in over a decade resurfaced. I used to breakdown crying to mom that what if I was like her and didn’t know it? She doesn’t know she’s like she is! What if I’m like that? Ruining peoples lives and I don’t know it? What if I’m bat shit crazy and evil too? Really crazy people don’t KNOW they’re crazy, yall! I confessed this to my husband and said I turn into a different person around my sisters. I hate who I become. He admitted I do become really snippy when I’m around them — but he understands. Wait. I already said that.

Any way, other sister used to be cool. Growing up she was cool and loving. She was away at college and worked at TCBY and when she’d come home, she’d bring me a whole cup of the toppings like reeses pieces and shit. I think she’d send me cards sometimes too.

But the past few years she’s been insufferable. She’s ripped me off financially. She’s a bitch. And she absolutely ruined my Christmas. Killed it. I know she has an autoimmune disorder that causes her sever constant pain and fatigue. And she feels like she got stuck with other sister (even though she’s done nothing to kick her out). So she’s bitter as fuck. And it ain’t pleasant to be around.

Anyway it’s Florida year. I still like going to the beach. And I love my brother and his family and want to spend time with my nephews and keep moms favorite thing alive. Our yearly trips to Florida. But damn, I don’t think I wanna stay in the timeshare with my sisters this year. So I’m like should me and Mr C get our own place? Go in with my bro wherever they stay? It’s too early for my bro to commit if he’s going. But like I don’t wanna wait too late and not have anywhere to stay booked. So yeah, that’s brought all this shit up.

Whatever. It’s past my bedtime. I still gotta lay out medicine for the week! And get my twitchy eyed ass to bed! Lack of sleep is on the twitchy eye causes too! And see, that’s another difference between me and sister — I have a psychiatrist and take my medication and try to not let my personal crazy destroy everyone else’s lives.

Also I’m married. And we’re like in a healthy relationship. Surely husband would have left me by now if I was like her?

I need a valium. Don’t worry, I take 3 a day.

Oh and I want to look for a cat but it stresses me out SO MUCH. Friends, please find me a very needy cat that just wants cuddles and constant attention. I was thinking maybe contact fosters and see if any of them have a needy as fuck cat? Like I need fuzzy snuggles.

A Passive Aggressive Christmas

Posted on | by cursingcats.com | Leave a Comment on A Passive Aggressive Christmas

So this year, Mr C and I spent Christmas with my family. It’s only 90 miles away but we planned to spend the night. My family does their big celebration on Christmas Eve so as to not have to fight for everyone’s time. Everyone’s free on Christmas Eve. So we went down on Christmas Eve and planned to sleep over at Sister1’s house, have Christmas brunch and head home on Christmas. Really just a formality as I feel bad that we spend a week with my in laws but only spend 24 hours with my own family. So we could at least do that.

We’d usually sleep at my brothers house, but they were full for the night. They had to take custody of SIL’s niece. Her mom was a drug addict. She’s supposed to be better now though so they’re working with her and bio-mom was sleeping over for Christmas. So they had a full house — but also a damn full plate of drama of their own. So we’d sleep at Sister1’s house — where Sister2 also lives. Plan. Not ideal because Sister1 has a big dog, but whatever – it’s one night. (Brother has 2 big dogs, but unlike the rest of my family, he trains them. His dogs are insanely well behaved.)

So dinner is at Dad’s at 5. He has forbidden present exchanges so we got to my bros house at 4 to exchange gifts. Well, Sister1 decided not to come cause she didn’t feel good. That’s fine, she has RA really bad and it really brings down her quality of life. Understood. However, since Sister1 wasn’t going to come, Sister2 decided not to either. This pissed SIL off very much because they’re having a feud right now. But whatever. We gave the nephews and kinda-now-niece their presents.

SIL explains that Sister1 is sick with a cold so that’s why she’s not feeling good. Wait, what? No one told us anyone was sick. She explains that Sister1 has had a cough for about a week now. Two things: Mr C is a germaphobe who didn’t want to be there anyway. Also, I have no PTO so I can’t get sick. It’s not an option. I gotta work. So we decide not to spend the night at Sister1’s house.

Sounds simple? Not simple. I about had a panic attack over this decision because this was gonna piss Sister1 off and I knew this would be a nuclear bomb. But Mr C is very supportive and said he’d go with whatever decision I made. So I texted them that we wouldn’t be spending then night. Then I had a mini panic attack but Mr C was very nice and let me sit in the car and calm down. Then we got out of the car at Dads. Sisters had just pulled up.

Sister1 immediately laid into me something fierce. She was furious. She said she wasn’t sick that it was just her RA and she can’t help it. So I’m being an asshole over something she can’t help. I tried to explain it was over the cough but she said she’d taken multiple covid tests and she wasn’t sick. (Which, if you weren’t sick, why did you take covid tests? Someone’s lying.) After screaming at me in the driveway in front of my husband, Bro and SIL arrive. I try to explain to SIL what is going on but she’s having major neice baby-momma drama of her own and needs a xanax and a couple of drinks. Fair. Merry Christmas.

So we go in and pretend to be a happy family, cause that’s what we do on holidays. But Sister1 is still furious. She won’t speak to me or look at me. If I move towards her, she leaves the room. At one point, she had to walk past me and went all the way around all the furniture so as to avoid me. It was really obvious. I pointed it out to my husband who reassured me, I’m not crazy — she’s crazy. But I felt like SHIT. Absolute trash.

So dinner was OK. Affair child and his family came. Dad loves to coo over affair child’s child. He was never nice to any of us or even my nephews. So it kinda just makes me sick. Like, I know he’s kinda probably got a bit of dementia, he’s bonafide insane, and is now on psychiatric medications. So like he’s different. Logical me knows this. But emotional me sees him as an evil bastard who ruined pretty much everyone’s lives just for shits and giggles. HE SHOT MY DOG.

Ok, breathe.

So I walk in the kitchen where SIL is and — just to make sure I’m not insane — I clarify that he never treated her kids so nicely and isn’t that kinda gross? She agrees. Ok, I’m not crazy. But by this point in the night she was taking shots and so was Dad’s girlfriend cause — family holidays, am I right? Oh yeah and Dad has 2 huge untrained dogs and Sister1 brought her dog, so in the background and all around you are 3 huge dogs play fighting. Also a sad little blind, deaf, and incontinent little dog but I mean, you can’t fault him. He just wants the other dogs to leave him alone.

Then girl friend actually starts talking about making him (Dad) go back to a psychologist — not just a psychiatrist who gives meds, but an actual therapist because of how bad he’s been the past two years. She’s actually started to have heart troubles because of the stress of this bastard. So I’m like girlfriend, it’s not just two years. I know for a fact he’s been an asshole for 40 years minimum, and thats just what I can actually verify first hand. Why does she stay? IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE.

So after dinner we go to the Sister’s house and give them their gifts (because again, Dad had banned gift giving at his house). I was surprised she let us in at all. It wasn’t bad. But we did go home that night. I mean after the way she had treated me all night, there was no winning. Like you want to bully me into sleeping over because you’re angry? WTF?

So we slept in our own bed which was nice. Wouldn’t have had a good nights sleep on her air mattress. And we didn’t have to drive home or do anything so we got to sleep late and chill. We opened gifts. I had eggnog and Mr C had cookies. I took pictures. Later that evening, Mr C took me to look at the Tinsel Trail Christmas lights. But Christmas was kinda ruined.

Sister1 is still so angry she won’t talk to me or respond to texts. She’s acting like I’m being ableist against her RA when I just didn’t want to catch her COUGH. But she denies ever having a cough so it’s moot. So yeah, she hates me now. She’ll hate me for a few months and then maybe get over it a little bit. We’ll see. I feel REALLY bad. So it kinda spoiled my Christmas.

Yay, family!

Vacation Acts 2 & 3

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I’m writing this from the airport.  Where we have been all day.  We left the cottage at 8:30 for a 12:20 fight.  It’s now 2:15.  Our connection flight was canceled.  They wanted us to stay overnight and all day tomorrow in the airport and leave for home at 9:30 tomorrow night.  So we had to reroute and deal with customer service.  Now were flying out at 5:30 and arriving home at midnight – HOPEFULLY.  This trip has been a travel nightmare.  And American Airlines is, of course, blaming all the delays and cancellations on weather.  That way they don’t have to reimburse you or pay for food and hotels.  Such fucking bullshit.  It’s the lies that really piss me off.  

Our vacation was great though.  I usually don’t like this trip much because the cottage is far too small and unairconditioned and has a single bathroom for 6 grown adults.  However, with just the 4 of us siblings, it was great.  I mean, we all feel bad that it was great.  Of course, it’s sad we didn’t get to see Mr C’s parents.  However, it was really nice just being the siblings.  It was so much more chill.  And so much more roomy. 

We went to the beach almost every day.  I got in the ocean a lot.  I lost my mountain toppers on the second ocean adventure.  I managed to hang onto my glasses when an unexpected wave nailed me but the toppers slipped from my grasp.  They were my favorites too.  After that, I just didn’t wear toppers in the ocean.  I’m learning.  Slowly. 

We played a lot of games.  I even joined in the family tradition of pinochle which I’ve refused for a decade.  Mr C’s family is SERIOUS about pinochle.   They even buried his grandma with a perfect pinochle hand.  So we played 3 games.  Mr C and I lost the tie breaker last night.  This pinochle participation shall never be spoken of outside of the group. 

We also played a ton of Splendor.  I brought the fancy glass gems and metal doubloons set I got for Christmas.  The gem set costs more than the actual game.  But playing a game with really nice pieces makes such a huge difference.  It’s so much more fun to really hold the gems and gold and feel fancy.  We played Five Crowns too.  I won last night! 

So vacation was really good.  Now, if we can just get home, we’ll be solid.     

UPDATE:  It’s now Sunday morning.  After I wrote the above post, we got delayed and canceled again.  We rerouted and arrived home after a late connection in Miami.  I was getting into bed at 3:00am.  Oh, and they lost our luggage.  Fucking American Airlines.  We really enjoyed the trip but this was the trip travel from travel hell:

1 Saturday flight out, canceled.

2 Sunday we arrived at the airport, got a pat down at security and it was canceled after we sat there two hours. 

3 Monday we finally made it out on a delayed flight.  We made our connection because it was also delayed.  Arrived at the cottage at 3:00 AM

4 We arrive to fly home at 9:30am.  First Saturday flight gets pushed back further and further and further.  We spend hours at Gate 8.

5 Find out the connection we are about to fly to is canceled. 

6 Reroute through a different airport that has a connection to home.  Also going to leave from Gate 8. Decide that Gate 8 is really just the “fuck you” gate. Flight gets pushed back so many times that we are in jeopardy of missing the home connection. 

7 Rebook on a flight that leaves a little sooner to make the connection.

8 Leave Boston around 6:00pm.  Arrive to find the connection has been pushed back.   

9 Home connection gets pushed back, like five times.  We were supposed to arrive home at midnight with the new flights (was going to be 630pm with the original booking).  We got home at 2am. 

10 Our luggage apparently never even left Boston.  Still waiting to hear from them on that. 

But I saved the toppers!

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Yesterday, I dove into the icy waters off the coast of Maine. I’m not traveling to a beach and not getting in the water. Even if it is really fucking cold. Painfully so. I got half-way and decided to fully commit. And the best way to fully commit is to dive in. I swim with my glasses all the time at home so I know the toppers fall off in the water a lot. So I took my sunglasses topper off to hold onto. Then I waited for a big wave and dove right in!

My glasses went with the wave. Yep, right over my head.

I kinda just wrote them off as gone. I could easily order a new pair from “Pair” for under a hundred dollars. It would suck going the rest of the week without glasses, but not cripple me. I’m like -3 in my prescription. So everything would just be blurry. But we’re not sight seeing here.

Thankfully, my Brother-In-Law and Sister-In-Law were with me to help me frantically search the waves. Somehow BIL found them. It felt like five minutes of searching but maybe it was closer to two. We were panicking. I tried to communicate to husband back on the beach what had happened, but he didn’t realize. I guess I was still holding my twenty five dollar topper so he probably assumed I was holding my glasses.

Anyway, lesson learned. Don’t dive in the ocean with your glasses on. Its funny, I’ve worn my glasses in the gulf many times and never had them fall off. However, they fall off in the pool sometimes while I’m falling off a float or something. They’re just really easy to retrieve in a pool. Not so much in the Atlantic.

Thanks, BIL!

I’m here anytime you need to talk. Except when you need to talk.

Posted on | by cursingcats.com | 8 Comments on I’m here anytime you need to talk. Except when you need to talk.

Got a text from sister1 today. Apparently sister2 had a breakdown and spent hours telling her how she had backslid into drinking a ton and depression and she was not doing okay over moms death. We all kinda knew that (When I sat in moms bedroom chair and looked to see what she had been reading, I assumed the hard liquor wasn’t hers), but she hadn’t admitted any of it. So sister1 wanted us to be mindful and reach out and let sister2 know we love her and not tell her we know kinda way.

In this same text message thread, sister3 mentioned she cried to nephew2 about mom just this weekend. Well, fuck I was talking just yesterday to nephew2 online and told him I was super upset about moms death too. So I was like, I’ll call sister3! She ignored my call, yall. You know how you click someone off and it goes to voicemail early ’cause you clicked them off. Uhuh. So okay, I’ll call sister2. She cuts me off too with the auto text “can’t talk right now.” She ALWAYS does this. She did it to mom all the time too. So no big surprise. Okay… I’ll call sister1. No answer. FUCK ME. So I call my mother-in-law cause she loves to talk. No answer (she’s most likely working and not ignoring me. She LOVES when I call). Yall have got to be kidding me!

So I called nephew1 and chatted a while. I wanted to talk about mom but I did not. I just talked to him about what was going on with him and his life. It was still good to talk to someone. And I left work early cause I was upsetty.

INTERMISSION: Hey I told Mr C when I got home super early: “I quit! … for the day.” Haha, he had one of those mini heart attacks.

Anyway, what the fuck? Everyone’s all “I’m here for you.” Except when you actually need to talk to someone and then no one will pick up the god damned phone. It’s been hours and no return calls either. And in the text thread where sister3 mentioned crying about it this weekend, she was like “I’m glad we all still think of her.” Again I say to you: what the fuck? Like no, I moved on. I don’t give a shit that my mom died on Christmas. I hardly think of it. Certainly not EVERY FUCKING DAY. What a shitty support net I have.

AND NOW, THIS…

God, that mug humored me so much when I saw it earlier in my Facebook Feed. “Bitch, I will put you in a trunk and help people look for you.” That’s good. I’ve never heard that. They had so many good ones too. (The picture links to Piper & Lou who sell these epic mugs.)