Thursday, September 24, 2009

This is loving??

I've gotten another complaint from a family member, this time for trash-talking my grandmother. (Apparently there isn't yet consensus on the whole "cult leader" thing - because not all of us have studied the deaths yet. Those of us who have say "cult leader".)

The letter was a mix of defending the indefensible, saccharine religious manipulation, and a lot of weird misconceptions of my emotional state. (I was informed that I'm "wounded" and in great "pain". Huh, now I know!)

I'll post and respond to the whole thing tomorrow, because I want to edit it for identity and length and my kid's real name. (No, I didn't actually name him Little Man Jackson, but you gotta admit it'd be cool if I had.) But I just have to post this part, because it's the sentence that makes me want to not be reasonable (and is why I have to wait till tomorrow to hit "send" on my reply. I've written and deleted three complete responses already, because they're too... truthful.) This sentence is her basically brushing aside all the people my grandmother helped to kill, and saying that at least they're better of than you. (No YOU, not me. I'm apparently doing a greater disservice to YOU than my grandmother was to the people who's children she murdered.)

I want to say this as gently as possible: the people who were following mom will probably go to Heaven, yet the people you have following your posts and blogs are being directed in the other direction.

I'm leading you straight to hell, blog readers! Oh well. At least she said it "as gently as possible", right? I have to laugh so I don't break my fist punching my monitor. THIS is her impassioned plea for me to go back to religion and guilt and nonsense! The other real winner I'm not even going to comment on now. I'm going to let YOU do that.

Your life with Little Man right now has no father figure for either of you and it breaks my heart that you’re against the main source of love, guidance, provision, and protection.

Anyone else wanna vomit? Let's end on a happy note. Let's sing a rousing chorus of "God fucked him up".