I'm a total loser because:



Again, I face a decision I don’t want to make. My stupid brother and stupid mother are making this difficult for me, and I can’t act neutrally. Whichever decision I make will “mean” something. I am talking about visiting for Christmas or not going. Equally, I will regret either decision and that I should’ve made the other. No matter what happens, I will be full of regret.

My stupid mother’s favorite tool is guilt-tripping. My stupid brother’s favorite tool is blame. My stupid mother is catching on and also using blame as a tool. I am sure to catch both guilt and blame whether I go or not, and whether I decide to explain myself or not will also yield equally unpleasant, if different, results.

My favorite tool is predicting outcomes and telling people when I told them so.

Another regret I’ll have is if I decide not to go and my stupid mother actually kicks off before I see her again (I’ve limited family visits to Christmas and special occasions for 13 years). I moved far away because my stupid family drives me absolutely nuts but I’ll still feel bad. Her rapidity of talking about dying has only grown; while I dismiss it as her using her favorite tool, I know that one day or night, it’s going to happen. She has implanted that fear in me which means it’s a contrived fear. There should be no difference between talking on the phone and seeing her in person but she draws a distinction which means I am sure to feel guilty.

The reason this Christmas trip is contentious is my brother is fucked up and actually lost his mind—psychiatric institution style—and told me to bug off forever. He then told my mother that he said no such thing. My stupid brother and I have not communicated in over a year because I respected his request and stopped trying. Before he told me he’s not my brother, I was actively trying to maintain a relationship with that asshole, but now: fuck ‘em. If he’s just going to be a god-damn bastard face, then I don’t want to keep trying. In the unlikely event he tries to contact me, I will probably ignore him. Like I said: fuck ‘em. My stupid mother thinks I am responsible and that I need to call him and bridge the gap or some bullshit. She does not believe that’s exactly what I was doing when he had his months-long temper tantrum in 2016 (and as far as I know, still ongoing). She also does not believe that her sweet little boy would be such an ass-hat to me even though he has been to her and she knows he totally lost his mind, claimed rape while under care at a mental hospital, retaliated hard when I asked my sister to make calls for police intervention because my stupid mother thought it was better for him to stay in a rapey hospital while zonked out under who-knows-what meds, recanted his claim of being raped, and labeled me as manipulative and controlling for demanding the police get involved when I thought (because he said) he was raped. She’s willfully denying all these things and wants us to “just get along.”

Moreover, my stupid mother is trying to be an intermediary when neither my stupid brother nor I seek reconciliation. While I would be happy to forget that asshole, every time she brings him up, I just resent him more. I told her that if she is having any impact at all, she is only serving to make things worse, because while I might have accepted a call from him before, I am now determined to ignore him and avoid him.

He likely won’t show up for Christmas because he’s played that game for years, dangling it and making a family visit conditional upon family members acting the way he wants them to. Because I saw how openly manipulative that was, I decided that I would just show up once a year without conditions, act happy, and be honest, if pressed, about why I limit my family visits—but not try to negotiate about it. But now I need to consider whether I can even continue an annual visit because my stupid brother and mother have drawn me into their retarded game.

I am loser because that's what I come from. It doesn't matter what I do—I will not be able to escape it. More on my dead dad next time.

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