I want you to close your eyes and think of your family. The family with whom you grew up.
I want you to think for 30 seconds about your relationship with each family member.
Perhaps most were good but you have that one asshole sibling…
Or, your mom was the best mom on the planet but your dad was an abusive drunk…
…or simply not around.
(I can use these examples because they are not mine and do not cause me pain. I apologize for any similarities you might see in your own clan…not for the coincidence of the similarity, but for turning the screw of pain.)
A friend and I were just agreeing on how neither of us comprehends the need for these peripheral holidays and that the American calendar is so full of them, a person is bound to touch upon a day to celebrate a person they might rather not celebrate.
Happy Third Cousin Twice Removed Day!
(Yeah, THAT asshole hit me in the face with a brick when I was 7 and his fat mom told me it was my fault for pissing his ADHD ass off.)
Whatever, Aunt Fat Ass. Your “name” is “Bunny” and your ass beeps when you walk backwards.
(For the record, (1) That was a mean statement, albeit true, and I will now do 30 seconds of penance for typing it and thinking it. Yes, really…and (2) one of her adorable children is a career criminal and the other is an lifetime alcoholic who works for ConEd. Clearly Aunt Bunny should have ate less and parented more.)
To clarify, we aren’t really related. My mother married into that mess when I was 5 and that entire family treated me like crap because I was not my stepfather’s daughter.
I also half believe Bunny may have encouraged her adorable son to throw a brick at my face.
Clearly, I have digressed.
The point is, why do we need one day to zero in on our love or complete indifference to this or that family member?
If you have a super fantastic mom, should you not celebrate that every day…especially knowing that some people’s moms are on the pole, the corner, or a bar stool?
Would it not absolutely shock the shit out of your mom to receive flowers and an “I love you” on a Tuesday when you are slammed at the office or heading to TNWs…rather than on a day that has been programmed into your head to do it…?
…a day on which you will stress out trying to find the right card, restaurant, flower arrangement…just like the rest of the American population?
My mom aside, I am a mom.
I would much rather have my kids focus on being great kids and show respect for me the other 364 days a year.
I’m lucky. I have great kids.
I show my mutual respect for them by staying off the pole, the corner, and the bar stool.
I bake them cookies, make homemade waffles, and let them see my sappy, schmoopy side.
Father’s Day is next.
That is one sob-fest I can do without.
Father’s Day equates to this brilliant recipe of pain and disaster for me:
Start with 1 heaping bag of Pop (the one person who made me feel that I was an actual human being).
- mental images of how he suffered an awful, humiliating death just before I turned 18;
- being left alone in the world to “figure it all out” with the circle of bitches whom have succeeded him in his death;
- many emotional & psychological punches thrown by circle of bitches (these will be camouflaged as misguided attempts of love but will actually reveal themselves as soulless acts of greed and self loathing…) They add a lot of flavor to the recipe, but really contain no true nutritional value and are just generally bad for you;
- sleeping in car for weeks while attempting to figure out how to be an adult at 17 while the circle of bitches pat selves on backs for valuable life lessons taught to silly head-strong teenager who fused to play “the game”…while they live off family funds not earned by selves but by now dead, Pop.
Yummy! That sounds like a super delish memory cake that I would sooooo love to eat year after year while people pat themselves on the back for my NOT turning into a stripper, whore, or drunk.
(That was snark.)
Sorry. I am now in a constant state of “training” of some sort (possibly to be a snark ninja?) and can no longer afford to eat pain cake laced with hell’s icing.
I will shut the interwebs off that entire Father’s Day weekend and Ty and I will stay out of every retail establishment designed to shred our hearts and souls.
This is why I hate this Mother’s Day crap. It gets the ball rolling for June.
I can call my mom up any time…and do.
I cannot call up Pop.
I cannot beg him not to leave me here with them.
I cannot fix it or undo it.
I cannot stop these tears after 20 effing years.
There are NO holidays.
You should just love everyone you love TODAY.