Judy’s Turn To Cry 1


No, I’m not actually going to try to make my “aunt” cry. I just felt the title was appropriate after her making the post about my birthday about her issues with me. She’s still at it, but I’m just finding her insistence that not having her in my life is somehow being my loss funny.

no great loss

I didn’t realize that she thought her supposedly ambiguous feelings toward me upset my life’s balance so much. I didn’t realize that she thought she had ever been that important to me. She hasn’t. Things she’s said to and about me have been more entertaining than anything else. She is one of the few people in the world who I can actually say that I don’t give a flying fuck what they think about me.

I never remember feeling any kind of love toward the woman, or even liking her at all. Maybe it has to do with her being rude to my mother and calling her names? Or maybe it’s that she had been a bit cruel to other people in my dad’s life and left him feeling less-than-kind toward her? Maybe it’s that she was part of the reason that I got to go repossess a car when I was in middle school…no, the actual repossessing of the car was something I ended up finding a bit thrilling.

No, I know what it was.

It was the hypocrisy.

She couldn’t be bothered to help out with the care of her brother, though she helped with other siblings. She couldn’t be bothered to give a flying fuck about him, the things he did, the way he was, etc. until he died. And then? Then she was the one who suffered this great loss and we were the villains. I may not have been capable of abuse when I was twelve, but I could detect when an ample load of bullshit was dumped in front of my nose. And she still acts like this.

Revisionist history is a lovely thing for people who are unable to deal with their lives and their choices. For the people who have to deal with those people? Well, it can either be entertaining or infuriating. With this particular revisionist, I’m choosing entertaining. I’ve had almost twenty years to be pissed at her, but aside from the initial frustration, I haven’t really felt much toward her. She would probably say that’s because I’m some kind of sociopathic weirdo, but she would be wrong.

So now I just get to sit and wait to see if she will just shut the fuck up already. My dad told me that she won’t let me get the last word. As a Morris, I both understand this type of behavior (I do it, too) and hate this behavior. My mom said I needed to block her, but I really don’t want to do that. Like I said, I find her entertaining. I try to save blocking for people who have hurt me in some way or who have just gone above and beyond when it comes to things like racism, sexism, homophobia, etc. Though I’m sure she’s probably done those things, I still think of her as good entertainment…maybe I am a sociopathic weirdo.

P.S. Judy, if you end up reading this, I hope that you don’t cry ’cause crying sucks, but I hope that you finally get the idea that I really don’t care what think or how you feel about me. I hope that you realize that by co-opting my birthday so that you could remind the family what a shitty person you think I am that all you did was remind me how grateful I am that you aren’t in my life. I also hope that by the time you turn 70, later this year, you have learned how to behave like an actual adult. If I remember our last interaction, when you said I wasn’t your niece, you used the whole “I’m your elder, so I’m your better” thing that our family is so big on. Well, you may be my elder, but you are so not my better.

P.P.S. I almost said toodles, bitch, but that just didn’t seem right. It didn’t seem very becoming of me. It did seem like it would have been fun, so I thought I’d include that I almost said it. I figure someone might think it funny.

P.P.P.S No, that wasn’t a typo.

P.P.P.P.S. Yes, p.p.p.s is the correct way to postscript an already postscripted postscript. And at this point, my postscripting is just being done for shits and giggles, so I thought I might as well include some grammar lessons. You might as well be rewarded with some grammatical trivia if you’ve gotten this far. I would give chocolate or cookies, but I don’t share chocolate or cookies unless they’re really bad. Yep, I’m probably a sociopathic weirdo.


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.


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