I've been working on a letter to my father. I felt the only way I could get any kind of message to him was to write a letter, send it via snail mail, and I would FINALLY be able to get through to him. I finished it up last night, showed it to Becky...and then added just a bit more this morning. When I was done, I still had my doubts about sending it, so I thought to call my step-mother in the hopes of receiving feedback.
Instead, the woman ripped me a new one, smack in the middle of my forehead.
This blog isn't written for family. It's written as a kind of journal for myself, and to keep my friends apprised of what's going on in my life. I never advertised it to my blood relations, but Stu somehow found it. And since he doesn't enjoy it when I actually speak my mind, I believe he went and shared his misery...by showing my blog to my father. No one knew who my family members were. There was no one seeking them out to say horrible things to them. My father, who really wouldn't have searched for this blog...apparently found it, and was supremely hurt by it.
My step-mother didn't hold back at all. And when I tried to oppose anything she said, it was cause for more yelling. "We welcomed you with love." No, I was welcomed with dread. A kind of, Oh, crap. It's the sickly one. Please let him say nothing, because we don't really want to hear it. And that's not even my imagination! There was a point when I tried to discuss a medical issue, (one of the many, of which I've forgotten which specific one this might have been), to which he said, and I quote, "I don't want to hear that right now." And it essentially happened again when I saw my father on the 6th.
It's actually kind of amazing how my family is aware of only my diabetes. At any given moment, I'll receive a talking to about the care of this one, and only one disease. But when it comes to keeping in mind that I'm emotionally ill, that gets ignored, and I'll receive a verbal beating without so much as a second thought.
Ah, but I'm repeating that which was said in my letter. As long as I know they're coming here to read what I write, perhaps I'll just go ahead and post the letter here. In that way, I won't have to waste the money on an envelope and postage. Mind you, it would take a few posts, as the letter is almost 5,000 words. After the mistake of trying to seek my step-mother's counsel, it may end up being longer.
But it was truly a special moment, having her yell at me, telling me that I was an ungrateful little bastard, posting such horrible things about my father on the internet. Instead of saying, "Wow, something is truly wrong if Rob feels this way. I should talk to him," it was handled in the traditional style of a family that doesn't talk TO one another. "We will wait for him to make the mistake of calling, and then we will ostracize him, and try to make him feel even worse." Yeah...that's more of the tradition in my family.
I'm the family freak, trying to talk to other people, including them. I never learned how to spread misery for the sake of spreading misery. I'm a terrible, terrible son for caring, and being hurt when dismissed with the wave of an uncaring hand. Perhaps I should have tried harder when I attempted suicide, as it doesn't seem to matter to them that I lived.
So, to review.
1: On the 6th of August, I was made to feel worthless by Stu and my father, topped by getting sick in the middle of the night.
2: Last weekend, the one site where I thought I was welcome exploded over mistakes that I made, and I declared a self-imposed banishment on myself.
3: Today, my familial value, (or lack thereof), was confirmed, and I was actually told to "have a nice life," and then hung up on.
My severe recurring depression is DEFINITELY recurring. And I'm starting to think that, regardless of what's said or done, the world would be a far better place without me.