Roadblocks Cleared, Enter At Your Own Risk

So, I’ve been on a bit of a war path lately. I have very little patience and tolerance when it comes to my family, both sides. I’ve had a few amped up conversations over the past few weeks that have resulted in me severing social media, and in one case, personal ties. Both have to do with misperception and agreeing to disagree. I know that I’m not exactly the easiest person to deal with at times, and I am very quick to shut shit down. I don’t feel bad about it. It’s one less person who feels that their perception is the one and only that matters. I’m too old and too far into my disease to let it keep me up at night. I could handle these situations differently, but for now, this is how it’ll be. My walls are sky high and impenetrable at the moment. A combination of PTSD flashbacks and resurfaced anger are to blame. So is my lack of appropriate coping skills, but that’s not the point. What is the source of the resurfaced anger? Familial bonds. Ones that at some point, we’re strong. One’s that were non-existent and continuing to grow. Ones that I regret putting effort into. Ones that I know I should have repaired when I had the chance. I tend to get a feisty around the holidays, I loathe holidays.

I keep coming to these roadblocks when I’m writing lately. I feel like I can’t put my thoughts on paper because somebody or multiple people are going to get pissed off and I really don’t have the energy to fight. My blog is supposed to be my safe place. I’m supposed to write about how my life is with MCTD, and that absolutely includes non-medical related issues. My health affects every facet of my life and because of that, issues pertaining to my marriage or family are going to arise. And when they arise, I’m meant to write about them, purge the emotions so I can move on to the next. I don’t know why I’m having such a hard time lately. I’m not one to sugar coat things and rarely do I have a filter on what I say. That’s me. Pisses me off that I’m acting a pussy. Fuck it, let people get mad.

Ok, so the reason my mom and I are no longer speaking, is because of how she and my dad handled me being sexually assaulted as a minor. I had the son of a family friend pull his junk out and encouraged me (and another relative) to touch him; I was maybe 6 or 7. I went to parents and told them what happened, nothing came of it. My mom supposedly told her friend what her son did and that’s the extent of it. No police involvement. Fast-forward to about 11, a guy that my dad worked with/was friends with (who happened to be the uncle of a kid I’ve known since pre-K) grabbed my ass while I was with said kid and minus a parent. I told my parents, my dad said he went off the guy and threatened him. I believe that, I know how my dad is. Other than that, no police involvement. Fast-forward to 16, I thought it was smart to meet guys off Myspace and sites like that. This guy was a decade older than me, well past the age range in the statute of limitations. He picked me up a few times from my house, no one really paid attention. I know I lied about the stuff I was doing as a teenager, but c’mon…if your teenage child was leaving with some guy you don’t know, don’t you think maybe you should figure out who this person is? Not my parents. I repressed 2 instances when I was younger, and it wasn’t until the issue of sexual assault was heavily displayed in the media, that I remembered. I asked my mom if I was remembering these 2 events correctly, and she confirmed that both of those things happened as I remembered. After hearing that, I just saw red. I was angry, disgusted, sad, disappointed, and hurt that there was no attempt to protect me as a kid. Being the mother of a girl, if I EVER hear that she was assaulted in any way, you better believe they’d be in handcuffs. Anyway, so I write a FB getting everything out, and what happens? My mom gets pissed off. She told me that I was playing the victim and only said what I did because I need to be the center of attention. My jaw hit the floor. That was the last conversation we’ve had that wasn’t about Ava or doctor appointments.

I told my dad a few weeks ago that she and I weren’t talking and when he asked why I just rolled my eyes and said it was a long story. At that point I wasn’t sure if she had told him anything or not. I assumed that if she did, he’d be furious at me, so when he acted normal, I was kind of confused. So last week, I go to pick Ava up after a doctor appointment, go into the bedroom and say hi to my dad, and he motions for me to go next to him. He starts telling me about what he did to the guy that grabbed my ass. He didn’t remember the instance with the babysitter or the older guy. I told him straight up that I was upset about how they handled those events and explained the conversation I had with my mom. Surprisingly, he didn’t rip me a new one, he apologized for how my mom responded. He gave me a few examples of when my mom was nasty and dismissive to him. He wasn’t mad. He understood why I was upset and let me know that I had every right to be angry with her. I felt a bit better after that. Nothing has changed with my mom. Neither of us wants to be the one to mend fences and I honestly have no idea when it’ll happen.

Amid dealing with that, I’ve had a few tiffs with one of my aunts (moms sister…shocker). She kept taking things I’ve posted on Facebook in ways that made no sense. She would message me privately and show concern for me and Ava when there was zero need for concern. Maybe it’s old age or the generation gap but this became like a weekly occurrence. She would send me a message and I’d have to go and explain the real meaning of whatever it was I posted. I’m over here defending myself for what? It’s fucking Facebook. 99% of what I post, or share is politically incorrect humor and sarcasm. I shouldn’t have to explain or defend myself over a fucking Facebook post. In her mind, I’m this fragile creature who’s sickly and can’t function properly or parent appropriately. First of fucking all, I’m the farthest thing from fragile, I’m a god damn warrior. I am sickly, but not sick enough to lose my ability to function or parent. And why Ava keeps getting thrown in the mix I have no idea. She’s met Ava, maybe twice? I hit my limit last night and told her that to avoid these awkward exchanges, we needed to not be Facebook friends. I unfriended her. I love my aunt, and I know she loves me, but she doesn’t know me. I didn’t grow up with her, I’ve only seen her a handful of times in the last 31 years, so to make these assumptions is just stupid. I don’t need the drama.
Holy balls I feel better. This bullshit is why I don’t have Instagram or Snap Chat. If Facebook weren’t my lifeline to my family and friends, I’d delete this bitch tomorrow. Ridiculous. I’ve just purged 80% of the non-sense that’s been going on. Another day I’ll get to the remaining 20%, those wounds a bit deeper.

It’s out in the open, be pissed, unfriend me, whatever. Just don’t come to with stupid shit.

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