I received a visit from the people who bore me this morning. While normal family gatherings are complete with hugs and mashed potatoes and maybe a beer or two, this one seemed like more of a covert encroachment.
I may not have yet mentioned that a few weeks ago, I decided to in not such impolite words tell my parents to fuck off. I admit, I was not raised to so forcibly express my emotions to my elders, (the whole, respect thy mother and thy father thing) but I had decided that since my parents didn’t have the balls enough to tell my half-sister they no longer wished to know her, I would show them mine and tell them I no longer wished to know them. After all, don’t we all get to blame our parents for our fucked up lives at one point or another? In actuality, I didn’t blame them for a thing, because really, if they hadn’t been the way they had, I wouldn’t have turned out as delightfully disturbed and amazing as some of you all think I am.
Anyhoo, I was in my car for a moment when I saw their desert-colored Chevy and mini camper circling me in the work parking lot as one would imagine a shark would circle. They parked, and I took in a deep breath to prepare myself for the onslaught of “we love you”s, and “we pray for you every day”. I was not to be disappointed.
After receiving a hug from my upset mother while receiving a pitying look from my father for my eternal soul, they asked what it was that had happened to cause the riff I had specifically created between us. I told them that they have three other children, none of whom want to see them, and though I had not exactly been rude about it, I agreed with their decisions. My parents then went on to say that my siblings chose the lives they live, and that it was not my parents job to fix them- to which I silently wondered why I myself was not allowed such luxury.
Then, my mom announced that they had been informed by a family member of a certain blog I had created- a blog of such filth and pollution that it could hardly be named. After asking why I would call myself “the bookstore whore” (because they so closely read and interpreted my insane ramblings), my mother asked if I was, in fact, possessing of multiple personalities- because the sweet little church girl I was FIFTEEN YEARS AGO was nowhere apparent in the last 2 of 446 posts I’ve written. I nodded, admitting that yes, there is no way possible that I could be possessing of only ONE personality- one of a girl who was raised in church and then left out in the real world to make her way.
“Well, maybe you need some help; maybe you need to talk to someone.” They had chosen that moment to announce that this was an intervention- the time to save me from my fucked-up and histrionic self, the time to rescue me from my back-slidden ride into eternal damnation. My father alternated between trying to hold his tongue and sporadically bursting out with reassurances that God loves me and the like. My mother broke the news that all my aunts and cousins are “deeply concerned” about me, because I am living a life of apparent derangement with my Rockstar (a title at which my dad scoffed condescendingly at) and working as a Pizza Slut while playing piano on Sundays at my Auntie’s church, and writing about it for “the WHOLE world to read!” (They seem to think that I am up for any naughty deeds with any man who asks, despite the fact that I mention my Rockstar and our relationship on nearly every post. I do not deny that I am up for anything, but as far as with who- I choose my Rockstar until he chooses otherwise.)
I began to realize at that moment that while my parents are maybe partially right to be concerned over my supposed lunacy, that the fact that we were having such a conversation in the parking lot of a mall in the blustering wind while I was supposed to be working was, in fact, madness incarnate. I announced that there was no need to further our discussion, for the crazy don’t know they are crazy, and will forever argue with a person that their opinions are correct.
I do not know what will happen from now on, but I have been assured by the people who see me on a daily basis that, while I am quite kooky in my own way, I have a long way to go before I am tranquelized and made to wear a straight-jacket as my fashion statement.
As for multiple personalities, I don’t think I’ve had one yet that people haven’t found charming.
15 responses to “We’re All Mad Here”
Because of something she was told you said about her. I look forward to hearing from you soon.
It is quite possible to love one’s parents without liking them.
Mayhaps thine church hast f*cketh them upeth.
I love you.
I wish to clarify- the church I play piano at is NOT the church my parents went to. They refuse to set foot inside mine.
Understood. (I shouldn’t try to use old English when “new” English is often already such a struggle.)
It’s sad, isn’t it, how some churches can turn people into judgmental fools in spite of their teachings of love?
Funny thing is, I don’t recall my old church talking about living your fellow man at all.
Thank god you put all of it out there for the WHOLE world to read, because I find you and your personality, quite entertaining!! 🙂
Why thank you! I find you to be quite entertaining yourself. Xoxo
It is our father who has chosen not to have a relationship with me. (Granted I made that choice first and for good reason.) I am a successful business woman who has been married for almost 20 years now to the man I have been with for over 27 years total. We have 2 grown sons who are good guys and a beautiful granddaughter.
When our father told me that my first son, who was born premature, would likely die because of my sins (sex and a baby out of wedlock, Oh my!) I wrote him off. I do not need his judgement in my life. (There is a higher power who has that task.)
I have made a couple of efforts to bring dad into my life over the years but he chooses not to make any effort. He has not seen either of his grandsons or his great granddaughter. That is HIS choice. I have lived in the same house for almost 19 years now. Dad has not stopped by even once or called or written.
I am sorry you were left to be the prodigal child and with all those expectations that your parents had for you to be their shining star. Those kinds of expectations can crush a weak person. However, you seem to have your own mind despite what dad would like. This makes me smile. 😉
I wish I could have known you all these years. But I was kept away from you from the time you were a baby. (Your mother would actually grab you and take you to another room when I was there on weekends.) And now I fear it is too late. I know you have invited me to come see you play at the church. I am really not a morning person and while I beleive in God I am not a big church goer. I would rather have a chance to sit down over coffee and get to know you. I have no expectations of a great sisterly relationship. But I would like to at least know you and let you get to know me (and my family if you choose).
In my own way I love my dad. I just wish he could return it without judgement or conditions. And even though I hardly know you, I love you too. We are family. Just a fucked up family. 😉
(By the way, I read your blog to my husband and he said “Wow!. She’s really good. She should be a writer or something.)
I’m sorry dad was an asshole to you too. I’d love to get coffee sometime. Sadly, our other sister is the one who told dad I needed mental health, so ill not be wishing to get to know her. And you shall be the first to receive a copy of my book once I’ve finished it. 🙂
Perhaps after church we can meet? I live about 15-20 miles south of there. But we should work something out. I have learned that dad is who he is and there is nothing I can do about it. I know. She sent me a text about it. That is a whole other topic. I will save a spot in my bookcase. 😉
I don’t care really, but why would she do that? Anyhoo, ill message you about getting together.
I hope it all works out for you. I like to embrace the insane, because normal people can go fuck them… uh… I mean… ‘take care’ of themselves. Besides, they bore the crap out of me.
Exactly. I don’t have multiple personalities. I just HAVE a personality.
Never hurts to have a spare.
Parents just don’t understand.