Anyone who follows my blog knows I occasionally need to vent about the very sick family I was born into.
Here's the latest.
Family Member A sends me an e-mail talking about how she wanted to write or call, but felt so bad about my nineteen year old granddaughter being pregnant. You could almost hear the judgment, and, sadly, the gloat, in her e-mail to me. She garnered this information from her granddaughter, who supposedly garnered it from my granddaughter's Facebook page.
Several texts, one review of a Facebook Page and one panic stricken afternoon later, my granddaughter let me know that she indeed was not pregnant, but she and her boyfriend were merely expecting the arrival of a new puppy. She took umbrage, and I agree with her completely, that people who had to resort to gossiping about her small little quiet life had very little going on in their own lives.
The reason I bring this up at all is that I know other people have sick families, just like I do, families who love it when bad things happen in your life. Families who can't wait to hear dirt, dish dirt, roll in the dirt and think of you as dirt.
I will revisit the many websites that give such great advice on how to deal with sick and pathological family members, and I know I will feel better sharing this latest story of people who were once my family, but are now just a group of hideously mean people I must avoid at all costs. What's really upsetting to me is how often I have to do this, and how truly wretched the people in my family actually are. I'd like to be a bigger person and say I forgive them, say I'll pray for them, say I wish they'd be alright. However, over the course of decades, they've destroyed that part of me. I just wish they'd go away.