Drama-rama

I’ve been tempted to leave this one blank, or not blog, because the poison that is my nutjob family is starting to seep into my heart.

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Sometimes family is who you choose, not who you are born with.

I received a very disturbing package in the mail yesterday from my mother, and it contained a number of articles (childhood cards I had made, photos of me and my sister as babies, and an insane 5-page double-sided letter from my mom) that made me seriously concerned for their mental health.

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I’ve always felt content with my little ‘family’ unit.

Essentially it was about how I was breaking their heart by not ‘giving’ them grandchildren, and that I am going to die alone, sad and lonely, surrounded by strangers. Bonus points for bringing up my dead grandmother, whom I was very close to.

I see now that this isn’t my issue- it’s theirs. And it is concerning.

What they are doing to me is emotional abuse.

And it ends tomorrow.

 

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