Family fun

A little bird recently told me (my little brother) that I was not on good terms with my family, and I have yet to do a damn thing about it. Ok, so not so recently, about 3 weeks ago, before my birthday, but still within the four week acting period of me. I was informed that because I do NOT like to call, I’ve become the butt of disparaging comments (thanks Ma) and rumors of me ruining my life (again, thanks Ma) have been taken as fact. Due to these lovely stories, I’ve been deemed unworthy of inheritance, something that never in my 24 years crossed my mind. One: it never dawned on me that inheritance was important, and two: I don’t condone morbid materialism based on a family member’s mortality and three: I didn’t realize slanderous comments about relatives in an effort to secure amassed items of the still living were acceptable ways of securing tangible love. Silly Fleur!

I’ve internally debated whether or not I want to handle this familial situation. Majority of me is pretty infuriated. Hearing this news was a little difficult to swallow; all acts of dishonesty are when you discover they are deliberate. I’m feeling quite a bit of betrayal as well, not to mention confusion. Ruining my life? I do happen to be working for a great law firm, making good wage for my age. Living with a great boyfriend, in a great part of town. No gambling problems, drug addictions, alcohol abuse, or dependencies on telephone psychics. I don’t party hard, I keep my nose clean, I don’t do prostitutes, I pay my bills. I’m not wanted by the mob. But, I’m ruining my life. The only thing I can think of that could be construed as a crash and burn in the life of me would be an eating disorder. And, thank you very much, I happen to be recovering, with no assistance from judging members. I eat my dinner, I make my own lunch. But it’s obvious my life is in the trash.

Now, all I can act on is speculation. Perhaps there are other reasons for their perceived failure of my life. But that would require me to believe a close family member is spinning elaborate lies, a conclusion I’m trying not to jump to. Despite that, I find it absolutely despicable that my relatives could take the fact that I have an eating disorder as reason enough for my failure. That’s pretty high-and-mighty to kick me when I’m down. I was under the impression that because we are all family, we don’t judge one another. Isn’t family supposed to be respite from the outside judging world? Normally I’m a take-the-bull-by-the-horns lady; it’s an avenue I rely on because for some reason, people don’t expect confrontation. But I’ve tried this approach before. It got me nowhere by De Nile. In fact, I was told that I was causing problems; I’m starting ‘stuff.’ I find it difficult to defend myself from across 2400 miles. I was told that maybe if I just called my family members, they wouldn’t have these thoughts. Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize my aversion to telephones made me fair game to be chastised. In my defense, I write. I send cards. That’s my preferred method of communication. Should I bitch, moan and attack others because it’s not returned? I ain’t got a problem picking up the phone when I see a relative call me, barring extenuating circumstances. Sorry I’m just not a phone person.

Now that I have thought this through, I pretty fucking furious. I live across the U.S., and I’m not made of money, I can’t visit every weekend. This I-love-you-more-‘cause-I-visit-every-week-I-call-ever-day-I-have-gossip-about-so-and-so is disgraceful. But, what do I know? My life's in the gutter. If it’s common practice to secure inheritance with defamation, count me out. That’s a phone call I’m not going to make.