Family Dinnerganza

Tonight I’m having dinner with my paternal aunt and cousin. I haven’t seen them since May of last year, at my sister’s wedding. My husband met them for the first time at said wedding. They came over to sit at his table and were chatting happily with Hubby when dear old sperm-donor came and made them go sit with him.

Well, Pops won’t be here tonight to interfere. I’d like for my husband to get to know some of the few people in my life who’ve done right by me. I haven’t seen them one-on-one in so long, and it’ll be nice. Catch up on each other’s life, and maybe get some advice to deal with my father. Who, in tune with his narcissistic personality, insists my childhood was perfect and he never did anything to me. Of course he didn’t do anything, he let my step-mother do it.

Also, pro-tip to all parents: Constantly complaining about your children needing food and a roof over their head doesn’t make them more appreciative of you. It just makes them feel like a burden.

Husband wants me to send my father a no-contact letter via certified mail. I’m afraid of consequences from that. But my preferred method of letting them send fruitless Facebook messages to my “Other Messages” inbox that I can’t see, or sending messages to my mother, will only work for so long as well. As long as they think they can contact me somehow, they won’t resort to showing up randomly at my house or doing anything drastic. But like I said, the “let them futilely send messages I might see” tactic won’t work for much longer. No contact or stringing them along, they might both end up with the whole “show up at Queen Legbeard’s place” tactic.

Daddy dearest was told to stay off our property, though. So, maybe he’ll just hang out on my sidewalk and wait for me to get home. Or go to my work. Or something.

I wish they’d go away and stay away. My stepmother, my father. My life without them has been so much better. There is no way in hell I’m going to have some sort of tender bullshit “reunion” thing. Everything is always on their terms. They don’t listen to me, I’m not a person to them, just some sort of disobedient extension of themselves.

I wish I could get ferociously angry the way they do. Just scream and holler and say whatever, the way they do. If I detect even the slightest hint of conflict, I freeze up. My heart starts pounding. I feel like I’m 10 again, being screamed into the ground by an unstable beauty queen.

Man. I wish my therapy appointment wouldn’t have been canceled last week. I really could have used talking to a third party about this. I really just don’t know what to do.

If I choose not to send the no-contact letter, I’m going to probably have to deal with Daddy Dearest in some way. I’m going to have to stand up to him, even with my heart pounding and my soul melting inside of me. Part of me wants to. Part of me wants to be a firm adult against his childish pettiness and tired bleating about how he bought me Christmas presents when I was three. Stand my ground. But I don’t know if I can.

I hope Aunt and Cousin can help, even a little.

God, I wish I was an orphan.

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