Screw You

Screw you.  Screw you for accusing me of being an uptight, no-fun, wet blanket because I wouldn't put up with your abuse.  Screw you for making me an "outsider" by singling me out when I didn't "go with" your flow.  Screw you for labeling me anything.  Screw you for not getting to know me, but deciding who you already thought I was.  Screw you for projecting your irrational fears onto me.  I was never going to steal your son away.  I had no intentions of that.  How dare you accuse me of that when you don't even know me, let alone my intentions.  Screw you for thinking I would even be that type of person.  If you knew me AT ALL, you would know that family is something I value in the highest.  That I know what it is to lose a family and be all alone.  I would never remove your son from you.  Only you can do that to yourself.  With your accusations, and projections, and fear.  With your triangulations, and manipulations, and subtle, yet hurtful, criticisms.  Screw you for thinking you could control me by tearing me down.  For trying to force me to "get in line" with your fucked up perceptions of what a family really is.  And when I didn't fall in line, acting like I was weird, or messed up, or wrong.  Fuck you for the years of pain that DH and I have gone through trying to wade through your bullshit.  And for the work we have to do now to get past it.  For teaching him that a family is forever loyal, and that there is only one way to be a family (let alone one way to be a person) and any deviation from that is a sin.  For your put downs, and teasing, and endless bullying.  For being so god damn subtle that it took me forever to convince anyone what you were doing.  For anyone to believe me.  For me to quit believing I was crazy.

I'm not some prim and proper bitch with a stick up my ass.  I expect respect.  I expect you to treat me like a person.  I expect you to allow me to be, if not value me as, an individual and a person.  I expect you to see that I am a person.  Not a thing, or a pet, or a 'part of you'.   I don't owe you anything.  And anything you think I did to you, you did yourself.  With your pushing and pushing.  With your desire to retain control.  You pushed me so hard, you pushed me away.   I could have loved you.  I wanted you to be my family.  I wanted to belong.  But you pushed me right out the damn door.  And that's on your head, not mine.

Screw you for constantly labeling me as some neurotic, anxiety ridden, control freak.  The only things you think I control are the things you want to control for me.  Like my thoughts, my values, my opinions, the way I do things and raise my kids.  Screw you for your snarky laughter at my "oddities".  Screw you for implying I should doubt myself.  Screw you for constantly telling me that I'd fallen short of perfection, of your expectations.  Screw you for demanding that I be something, and then punishing me for achieving it.  Screw you for hurting me, abandoning me, abusing me, and treating me like dirt.  Screw you for always finding the negative in me.  Screw you for treating me like a child, despite the fact that I am a 34 year old woman.  I am not your child.  Not your little girl.  Not your fucking "mini-me".  I am me and you know jack shit about me.

Am I sensitive?  Hell yeah.  And that's a good thing.  That sensitivity is what made me an excellent clinician.  My patients felt comfortable with me.  And safe.  And trusted me.  Because I was sensitive, and empathetic, and kind.  My bosses told me that (as well as my patients) over and over.  But you see it as a flaw.  That same sensitivity is what helps me find the perfect Christmas gift for you.  Helps me be that good listener that you always seem to crave.  You all love to talk at me.  Love for me to be your sounding board.  Well, that's because I'm sensitive.  That sensitivity is what helps me remember people's birthdays and make the lonely feel  not forgotten.  Why do I get cards and letters from relatives when you don't?  Because they feel I see them, and remember them, and appreciate them.

Am I organized?  Yup.  Am I a freak about it?  No.  One look around my house can tell you I'm not some clean freak nazi, requiring perfectly ironed sheets and no clutter.  But I like to not waste time.  I don't like to spend fun times searching for things I need.  I like that when my kids and I go to a ballgame, they always have water and snacks and sunscreen.  We enjoy our time better that way.  And you enjoy it too.  That's why you love coming to my house.  That's why everyone loves my dinner parties and football games at our house.  Because Jessie throws a mean party.  Because the sheets are always nice, and the bathroom has spare toiletries.  That's why you get so damn mad that I won't let you stay.  Everyone likes that my house feels like "home".  That you can make yourself at home.  That the fridge is always stocked with beer and the pantry with snacks. And you want to know something else?  Yeah, the "big" parties do stress me out.  I'm tired of you harassing me about that.  None of you throw birthday parties for 20-30 people that go off without a hitch, that everyone has a great time at, ALL BY YOURSELVES.  None of you help.  None of you want to do the dirty work.  You all want to get involved in the "fun" stuff that gets your credit.  But none of you want to chop the vegetables or clean the toilets.  So, yeah, parties are stressful.  It's a lot of work entertaining you all (and paying for it all).  So fuck you if you want to accuse me of being organized and anal and bossy.  Screw you for not respecting me as an adult.  Screw you for laughing at me.  Screw you for your demands.  Screw you for taking it personally when I don't do things the way you do.  Screw you for your jealousy.  Screw you for not respecting me as a parent.   Screw you for not being proud of my accomplishments.  Screw for calling me "so smart, yet so stupid" when I had age appropriate "growing" mistakes.  Smart doesn't mean "all knowing".   Screw you for forgetting that people change and grow and become different.  Screw you for always "observing" me but learning nothing.

Do you want to know who I am?  I'm not some labels that you've slapped onto me.  I am not one "thing" but, rather,  parts that make up me.  I'm generous, and thoughtful, and kind.  I'm sensitive and forward thinking.  I'm a good daughter, and mother, and wife, and sister, and granddaughter, and in-law.  I think of others before myself.  I work every day to improve myself.  I am hard on myself.  I work too hard to please others.  It is a struggle to find the balance between pleasing myself and being true to myself.  But I work on it.  I like to sing and dance and have fun and hear good music.  I like to relax.  I enjoy the little things in life.  I love art and good food and good company.  I love soil in my finger tips and the satisfaction in growing my own food... or hanging my own shelf, or just plain "doing" things for myself.   I don't take myself too seriously and actually do have a good sense of humor about things.  I like to teach and I like to learn.  I want to always be a student of life.  I want to instill this love in my kids.  I want to show them the wonders of travel, and nature, and just sitting and being OK with yourself.  I'm not fearful.  I am courageous.  I have backpacked through Europe, having no clue where I am going.  I packed up and moved far away from home, not knowing a soul.  I'm not afraid to eat alone in a restaurant.  I know how to change my own oil and am not afraid of confrontation.  I can defend myself.  I love to write and take photos and express myself, despite your best efforts to suppress that. I am strong and self reliant and empathetic.  I know what I like and rarely need someone to tell me if something looks good on me.  Because, deep down, I know myself.  Not that I don't value and appreciate advice.  Alternative opinions are important to me.  But I know myself.  And you can't tell me who the hell I am anymore.  So screw you.