The Sweetie Chronicles

Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart. ~William Wordsworth

Family Drama

I am home, thank God. This was not my most pleasant trip home ever, I'll tell you. It started off amazing, but went downhill somewhere at the end of the trip. The first two nights, I spent my time mostly at my brother's house, hanging out with my sister-in-law and their new, sweet baby. It was great!! I couldn't have asked for a better woman for my brother to marry, and their baby is the sweetest thing you ever saw. When she smiles, her whole face lights up! It was great to spend some quality time as an aunt.

Night #2, we all had dinner with my parents, which was nice, but I got the first inkling of trouble when my mother complained that I was going back over to my brother's house instead of coming home to talk with her. Yes, I understand that she wants to spend time with me too, but times are changing now. My brother and sister both have children that I want to see, and I am just not going to spend my entire time home sitting around watching tv with my mom while she complains about her job.

On the third day, I headed to my sister's house to spend time with her and her four year old daughter. We had a blast. So far, the trip was going very well. But then, we headed back to Mom's house on Saturday. We were having fun, but there are a few key things that made it turn from enjoyable to awful very quickly.

Really, there was one thing. My Aunt B. I know I've talked about her evilness in the past, surely. She's one of these people who has a good heart on the surface, gives of her time, volunteers in the community, and appears sweet and giving. But somewhere deep down there is an ugly gnarly rotting heart that she shows on occasion if you are unlucky enough to be one of her "chosen ones." When we were growing up, it was more often my sister who was chosen to be picked on, but as we have gotten older, I have joined those ranks as well. Thanksgiving was the last time I saw her, and she was positively mean to me. Then, stories from Christmas brought out further contempt from her about my career as a writer and my life in general. I wasn't even there to defend myself.

It was around the holidays last year, then, that I decided I simply wasn't going to see B for a while. I could certainly avoid her. After all, if I have a friend or person in my life who is treating me poorly, I slowly begin to cut them out of my life, so why should family really be any different? I was quite clear with my family about wanting to cut B out of my life, and I specifically did not go home last weekend, because I knew I would have to see her for Easter. I thought I was safe this weekend at home, but it turns out I wasn't. It sounded to me as if B was invited over and sprung on me like a cat pouncing on a bird. Mom insisted that no, B invited herself over, but I don't really believe that.

Basically, I wanted to leave if she was coming over. I shouldn't be forced to sit around and be sweet to a woman who says horrible things to me. But my family would not let me leave. They got angry, slammed doors, yelled at ME for wanting to leave. I retreated to my bedroom, feeling like a four year old. Eventually, I had to go downstairs, my mother's plea being that she "is embarrassed" by me. "If anyone should be upset with B, it's me." she said. Really Mom? In what fucked up world does it makes sense that only the most battered person has a right to be upset with the person beating them? Everyone who gets lesser beatings has no right to be upset unless the one whose beat the most speaks up? That's just fucked up. I am not going to sit by and take shit just because my mother is too pussy to stand up for herself when her sister says ugly, hurtful things to her.

Sure, B was relatively nice to me this time, but I think she knew I've been upset with her since Thanksgiving. I did, afterall, say to her in November, "This is why I didn't want to come to your house." Surely, she knew I was upset. But the thing is, B never changes. She might be nice to me this time because she knew she was skating on thin ice, but when I see her next time, she'll be ugly again. I have no doubt. And honestly, life's too fucking short to have to put up with people who repeatedly treat you like shit.

The issue that demands exploration here is this: Why was my family, who proclaims to love me, so upset that I didn't want to see someone who is so mean to me? Shouldn't they be standing up for me rather than stoning me for not allowing myself to be flogged? Why are we expected to be socially polite to someone (esp. family) when they are not nice to us in return? It doesn't make any damn sense. I definitely am going to explore this topic further, but not until I've had some coffee.

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Sarra Cannon

Young Adult Indie Author

I always secretly wanted to be a cheerleader. And a witch. Now, I write about both. The first five novels in my Peachville High Demons Young Adult Paranormal series are available now in ebook!

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