Crazy Bitch

My heart is hurting. Why oh why did I try to spend Memorial Day with “family”? When will I ever learn?

I went to a BBQ at my mother’s house. After she had cancer and suffered the loss of her husband we started to rebuild a relationship. But it’s fragile. There are subjects we still have to dance around carefully.

They call me the abrasive one. I’m the know-it-all. I think I’m superior to everyone else.

Right, of course I am.

They are the victims of my sharp tongue and I just say these things out of the blue.

Why do I care?

It’s not really my mom that I’m frustrated with. It’s her inability to face the facts. My sister is a Crazy Bitch. You can only use bipolar as an excuse if you are willing to face your demons and deal with them. She is beyond bipolar. She’s manipulative and conniving.

She spent the entire day coming in and out the house, pouting about this and about that. I was stupid enough to try to go smooth her over. She attacked me. Then she ran in the house screaming that I punched her in the face- I WISH I HAD!

I didn’t break her jaw, I told her she doesn’t exist. Maybe it felt like a blow… It was meant to be one.

I’m fine with the fact that she exploded on me. What’s ridiculous is that she called the police on me! Luckily they saw right through her. What I’m not fine with is the little hearts I saw broken. AGAIN.

I have her children. All of them. They’re mine now. It didn’t take a fancy adoption paper to say that. They’re mine because I’m the one who buys their school supplies and toothbrushes and tennis shoes. I drive them to baseball and dance and everything in between. They have my last name. They are growing up in my house. But there was this moment when she brought them into this world and for some reason I thought maybe someday she would do more than mourn their loss.

I thought she’d step up her game. I thought she’d contribute SOMETHING. Anything….

I tried to say that they deserved to know her. I said “it’s not their fault”. I wanted them to feel loved, even by a crazy lady, but she went too far. She threatened our safety. She threatened our civilization. And my mom took my side when the police came, but when the dust settled she said “I just don’t understand these physical fights.”

Put down the bottle of wine and open your memory. We saw you. We saw you battered and bruised. We saw you fighting to survive. We saw you muster strength a woman shouldn’t have to muster. So while I don’t like the idea of violence, I know where it entered our minds. I’m not completely innocent.

The saddest part, I have no idea where to take these hurts. This story has gotten old. There is no one left to pour my heart out to. Reruns are boring, and I’m stuck in one… only this time, I’m changing the channel for good. She doesn’t get a redo. I just hope someday they understand….

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