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.


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.


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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