Elder…ly
These thoughts were triggered by the guilt I don’t feel for removing coats of sugar from words I recently spoke to my ‘grandmother’…
Social media is on my ‘arse’ right now. These platforms constantly feed me nuanced picture perfect realities and if I’m not careful…I fall into a ‘why not me’ trance. Taking ‘anti-social’ breaks is sometimes beneficial for me because my ego likes not constantly being reminded that people are actually out here living normal lives…within the construct of their normal families. There aren’t many families I care enough to watch on socials though because the facade most put on is unbearable. But there are a few whose love feels genuine as opposed to being faked for clicks and views. One of the families I watch had a milestone recently and they posted some of the highlights for their supporters. I’m naturally happy when I see most people win so when I saw the clips…the cry baby in me teared up because the happiness was palpable. After going back to my reality…the voice of my other half started beatboxing on one of my shoulders. The spit from her cadence created a tidal wave of ‘what if’s’ and before I knew it…my fingers bent to the chat and text the ‘matriarch’ of our unit. The one who is in her 70s…with an accountability age of a 9 year old.
There was a time when I regarded this woman with respect but it’s been years since that respect was lost. While in her late 60s…she became bedridden and for months I was the only one of her grandchildren who took time out of my life to go cosplay a home health aid…in every sense of that title. And I made sure I went to see her a couple times a week, bringing her her favorite meals when I came. This was when the mask she had been wearing for all those years…slowly started to fall off. Before then, we never had real conversations. Our relationship consisted of birthday calls and awkward family visits where we pretended to know each other. But I can’t sit in the company of anyone too long before poking and prodding into their psyche. So when we started having our dinner dates…I’d ask questions about her upbringing, what my ‘mother’ was like, her relationship with my grandfather, etc. The more she talked…the less I liked her. The way she avoided acknowledging her behavior made me uncomfortable. And that was my first clue into the genesis of why my ‘family’ is incapable of being held accountable.
I have no idea what it is with old(er) people and their refusal to say “I was wrong”…or “I didn’t handle that right”. It’s like they expect their descendants to turn a blind eye to their bad behavior and anyone who has the nerve to hold them accountable is accused of being disrespectful. How convenient. So when watching an emotionally balanced family…via YouTube…engage in an emotionally balanced family function, I was reminded of what I was deprived of. Honestly speaking, we were all deprived of being raised in an emotionally stable environment…I’m just the only one of my siblings/cousins who didn’t back away from calling out the ‘elder…lys’ after the conversation was ignored by them. Both for my own satisfaction and so the newer generations don’t have to repeat our history. And after being triggered by the reminder of how their selfishness continues to infect our whole bloodline…I addressed the ‘fish head’. I sent a few crass texts yesterday but I won’t post them because…they weren’t very nice.
Today, I started visualizing all the opportunities my grandparents had, but overlooked, to hold themselves accountable for starting the tradition of trauma in our unit and I went right back to the chat. (SS’s below) I know it would probably make more sense to focus on my own healing journey…but holding accountable those responsible for my need to be on this healing journey, is just as beneficial as any other form of shadow work.
Love,
Choosy
