Coffee & Writing

My family rented a house at the beach and I wasn’t invited. I didn’t find out about until a few days after some members of my family returned. One thought he told me about it. I knew they were going away, they frequently do. If he had told me, I would have been curious as to why my mother hadn’t told me.

I did ask her gently on Zoom, even though I wanted to throw a hissy fit about the whole thing, why was I not invited or told? She did have an excuse, a poor one in my opinion. She said, that she didn’t want to make me feel bad because she knew I couldn’t afford to go.

She should not have assumed my finances because I did actually have the money to go. They kept this a secret from when they booked the house through the trip. With those kinds of houses, you have to book about five or six months in advance.

I get that my family doesn’t want me at events. I am just there because of DNA, they have their own clique and that’s fine, they have similar interests. But something about me is broken to them.

It’s been over a year since my sister has contacted me. However, my soon-to-be ex-brother-in-law was at the beach with his son, and gave my mom graduation invitations for her to address. They had the audacity to send one to me.

Madness was flooding the place. After I calmed down, I bought my nephew a camera attachment since he likes taking photographs. Not even an blank email with thank you in the subject line.

In my non-defense I did send an email, which I’m sure they deleted without reading, that thanked them for the thank you note. Petty. Petty. Petty. I know. But it felt good to get it off my chest.

I have resigned myself to the fact that I don’t really have a family anymore. I can’t put anymore effort in pretending I can magically do something to make them like me better.