Nothing gets me really grateful for how peaceful things have been lately like a crap-filled week where I’m being bombarded by a bunch of other people’s emotions left and right. Brace yourselves. I am going to vent… There’s going to be absolutely nothing useful about these stories, so feel free to skip it. I just have to write it out of my soul before I lose my mind….
We are short-staffed at the moment, like most of the companies across the nation. Well, my recruiter had surgery and was out all week, and my salesperson is out of state all week due to a death in her family. So, I worked the whole week alone.
I’m actually fine with that, but I did get completely annoyed when the one on bereavement didn’t tell us that her family member had died, and we literally found out from her FB post. Then, after being gone a whole week, she asked the owner for another day off to get some sleep and do her laundry. When he told her she had to clear it with me, I felt annoyed with her again. Who was going to be affected by her absence? Not the owner.
All of which, of course, makes me feel like a bitch.
I wish I could tell you that I understand why I’m feeling this way about a person who is obviously dealing with a tragedy, but I’m not sure even I understand. She’s never said anything even a little nice about this person in her family, so the amount of drama when he was sick and dying seemed over the top, I guess. She spent the prior week crying and on long personal phone calls outside, and honestly, it was uncomfortable having her around because that is all she would talk about. And it was just the same stuff over and over because she had neither seen him nor even taken a phone call from him in over 20 years.
Still, people grieve in their own ways, so I’m trying to reign in my personal emotions about this stuff. It’s just all so….awkward.
Since I’m going to be talking about him a lot, let’s call my brother Scott.
Scott and I have the same mother and father. Our mother raised us, almost entirely without our father being in the picture.
Scott’s life fell apart over the last year. His very successful business suffered a hostile takeover, and when the money was gone, his wife was out too. He became depressed, and is struggling with alcoholism.
Our father, who has already burned his bridges with me, made big promises to help Scott get back on his feet, so he moved here, and has had to face the very harsh, rather heartbreaking reality, that our father is a true asshole. He cares about money and his image, and that is all. Scott has had some success as a writer, publishing a couple of books, and writing for several on-line publications, and I think our dad thought it would be easy-peasy to get Scott back on his feet, and then he could ride on Scott’s successes and his money. When he realized that it might require a little sacrifice on his part up-front, Dad quickly freaked out, and I took Scott in when he kicked him out.
Dad doesn’t sacrifice for anyone, and he’s appalled you’d even think to ask.
You’d think Dad would just be quiet and let us be, but he doesn’t. He and his severely addicted (to pain pills) sister (who he lives with, rent-free) call and text Scott constantly, accusing him of lying (they never can say about what) or not being a good son to our Dad (because he won’t come over in the middle of the night and get them cigarettes or fast food) or whatever else they think will upset him.
The real irony here, for me, is they are constantly making fun of Scott’s alcoholism, while intentionally ignoring that Aunt Sandy has been addicted to pain pills for decades, even stealing them from her dying sister and Dad was a meth addict for over 40 years. You have GOT to be kidding me with all this!! If anyone can explain to me how people can be this hypocritical and not see it, I’m all ears.
I warned Scott when he first arrived in Austin earlier this year that he wasn’t going to find the healing he needed from our father. I spent years trying to get that man’s approval, and I never did. What I learned, instead, is that our father has spent his whole life lying, stealing, and arguing, and so now, he always thinks everyone else is lying to him, stealing from him, and wants to argue with him. I let him stay with me during the ice storm in February (after several years of estrangement) and instead of saying thank you, he complained about my pets, picked a fight with me about politics, and bitched about how by not coloring the gray out of my hair, it made him feel old.
Here’s a news flash – he is old.
Yesterday, he finally broke Scott. So, after a particularly rough week of work, I came home to a very hurt, weepy brother. I read some of the texts my dad sent him, and all I could do is just feel sad for both of them. Scott fell off the wagon, again, and my father, who is not doing well health wise, is going to die alone, and it’s his own fault.
As an added bonus, I was woken up in the middle of the night by my phone going insane because Pill-Head Aunt Sandy is calling, hanging up, calling, hanging up, calling over and over trying to get me to answer her so she can slur her way through accusations about Scott and tell me how terrible a daughter I am to my father. I had blocked her years ago, but turns out, she has a new phone number. THEN, I hear from DJ, who is in the hospital right now, that she’s calling him over and over as well. WTF??
So, here I am on a Saturday morning, right back at square one with Scott. I know he thinks I don’t know when he’s been drinking, but I do. He’s got many tells, and they’re all lighting up my morning like fireworks.
Anyways, there are a dozen other minor irritations I’m dealing with right now, but those are the big hitters today. Thanks for reading my vent. It just feels better to say it aloud and acknowledge how I feel about this stuff.
2 responses to “When It Rains…”
There is so much brokenness in this world and one must own their part and just work hard on loving oneself so they can love others. Everyone can have moments of despair and when chemically induced it becomes even worse. As the holidays get closer it seems to get even worse.
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I don’t need to tell you that there can be a lot of square ones on the way to recovery, the important thing is to get your brother to recognise he made it to square two, square three etc so that the next go round he knows he can do it and it gets easier, but again it only works if he really wants it to. You mention he has written books maybe now is the time for him to get back to that keyboard and write an honest account about how he got there and his journey to sobriety blips and all, maybe he will help others as he helps himself.
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