Get Out Of My Life Already

That is what I want to scream the relatives who were causing me problems Tuesday. I was pretty sure that blocking them would give them a clue that I want nothing more to do with them. It didn’t. Deb or, maybe, another family member was on at least twice yesterday. My aunt or uncle or someone else down there was on my LiveJournal 19 times yesterday. I’m trying to get them out of my world, but they don’t seem to get the message. This stuff has got to stop.

Yeah, I was immature towards them a few times, but nothing I ever did was worthy of this much monitoring. I ranted about them a few dozen times out of thousands of posts made over 11 years. I’ve ranted more about my parents, the Republican Party, and A&M more than I ever ranted about the upset family members. I’m allowed to do that.

This site is essentially my diary, but it’s open for people to read. They never got that. They never got that I needed a place to talk about my problems, in the same way that they talk to each other and to other people about their own problems; the same way that they talk to each other about me.  Instead, they focused on me with all this rage that is really misplaced. I wrote publicly that I didn’t like certain things, and people they didn’t know may have thought poorly on them for it. I didn’t talk to a family member about it. (I’m too shy around MOST of my family.) I didn’t talk to someone on the phone. (I’m afraid of the phone.) I told people they didn’t know, some of whom happen to be my friends and my non-biological family, that I was stressed out by people within my family. Usually, there were no identifiers. None. And they carry this rage on for over a decade, and it just gets worse with time. It’s frustrating and ridiculous.

For the most part, when I used to rant about them, I was over it by a few minutes after I made the post. (And it doesn’t take me long to post a blog entry.) When they started taking it personally and started making my life more difficult, that’s when I actually started to truly dislike them and to not want them around. Now, when I rant about them, I’m ranting because their rage is making me nuts. I am sick of worrying about what they’re going to do when I say things. I am sick of having to go into the back-end of sites and change privacy settings.

I’m sick of all of this crap because they’re so upset at my immaturity.

I’m doing the mature thing. I told them to not read the site. I told them to leave me alone. I told them that they don’t really know me anymore. They just keep coming, and they find new ways to justify their rage. You shouldn’t like Hello Kitty. You shouldn’t be on disability. You shouldn’t post this. You shouldn’t say that. You shouldn’t watch horror movies. You shouldn’t watch R rated movies. You shouldn’t be on Facebook. You shouldn’t be on Twitter. You shouldn’t have a blog. You shouldn’t be depressed. You shouldn’t have stayed with your grandmother. You just play games.You’re lazy. You’re pathetic. And on. And on. How is that mature behavior?


About Janet Morris

I'm from Huntsville, Alabama. I've got as many college credits as a doctorate candidate, and the GPA of some of them, too. I have a boss by the name of Amy Pond. She's a dachshund. My parents both grew up in Alabama.