A blog entry
> I've asked people to not forward your stuff to me—I'm not a kind reader.
>
> But Dee sent me your latest thing. I don't know you and certainly don't understand what makes you tick—not my fault. You talk about the sadness about losing this apt.
>
> You have not lifted a finger in three years to head off what happened. Why do you write things like this when every action and decision you made led to this obvious and inevitable solution.
>
> And you are passive and absent now-as if you don't have any control in a process you created, continued, endorsed, and magnified.
>
> I assume this is the performative part of sociopathy, since I have no information about you. That you just don't care if I suffer—or worse, it makes you happy.
>
> I believe I am right about this conclusion and the only thing that will convince me otherwise is your actions. You said you're trying to be a good person—I'm sure you are to someone. But you will always get my reaction from people like me who you treat with violence.
>
> I would love more than anything for you to prove me wrong with acts of kindness and love. I understand you lost a lot in the last three years—though I was only an outsider to your mom's sad death (hard because she was my family at the time too) and not privy to any of the other things because you forced me out. I have lost more, and I am far more damaged than you are. You appear to be able to go outside for instance. You appear to not be under treatment for serious mental health prognoses.
>
> You have no responsibility for the work or financial burden of cleaning up the disaster you left behind when you moved to Montreal. Me reeling with pTsD still from 2012.
>
> It's sunny in Truckee all the time. It doesn't matter when you're depressed, alone, and without a family.
>
> It would mean so much to me if you'd change your behaviors and listen and help for once. I will try to continue to avoid your writing but I can't comprehend your journey—no one can—when I'm simply cleaning up the trash, as I have been for three years. In any case, the loss of this apartment and my part of your other losses is 100% your choice—you could easily have headed off these outcomes you appear to feel so sad about. You do not know depression. I do. Deeply. I am in trouble and you are an absent dilettante on this topic, waiting for your check and doing nothing more (I am not your dad—as you know.).
>
> I don't publish stuff. I write to my journal. That's where this appeal will go. No one will give me stars or tell me what a hero I am. You won't—but you really don't have to make things more foul every day. Go walk in the sun and feel healing power please but remember I'm sitting in the floor surrounded by the boxes of a family that is 100% gone. And you are silent as always. Not, in my opinion, what a good person does. Good people have emotions and express them. Like pain. And anger. And neediness. And terror. And depression. We have parts that speak up to defend us from danger when the sun has long stopped shining.
>
> But Dee sent me your latest thing. I don't know you and certainly don't understand what makes you tick—not my fault. You talk about the sadness about losing this apt.
>
> You have not lifted a finger in three years to head off what happened. Why do you write things like this when every action and decision you made led to this obvious and inevitable solution.
>
> And you are passive and absent now-as if you don't have any control in a process you created, continued, endorsed, and magnified.
>
> I assume this is the performative part of sociopathy, since I have no information about you. That you just don't care if I suffer—or worse, it makes you happy.
>
> I believe I am right about this conclusion and the only thing that will convince me otherwise is your actions. You said you're trying to be a good person—I'm sure you are to someone. But you will always get my reaction from people like me who you treat with violence.
>
> I would love more than anything for you to prove me wrong with acts of kindness and love. I understand you lost a lot in the last three years—though I was only an outsider to your mom's sad death (hard because she was my family at the time too) and not privy to any of the other things because you forced me out. I have lost more, and I am far more damaged than you are. You appear to be able to go outside for instance. You appear to not be under treatment for serious mental health prognoses.
>
> You have no responsibility for the work or financial burden of cleaning up the disaster you left behind when you moved to Montreal. Me reeling with pTsD still from 2012.
>
> It's sunny in Truckee all the time. It doesn't matter when you're depressed, alone, and without a family.
>
> It would mean so much to me if you'd change your behaviors and listen and help for once. I will try to continue to avoid your writing but I can't comprehend your journey—no one can—when I'm simply cleaning up the trash, as I have been for three years. In any case, the loss of this apartment and my part of your other losses is 100% your choice—you could easily have headed off these outcomes you appear to feel so sad about. You do not know depression. I do. Deeply. I am in trouble and you are an absent dilettante on this topic, waiting for your check and doing nothing more (I am not your dad—as you know.).
>
> I don't publish stuff. I write to my journal. That's where this appeal will go. No one will give me stars or tell me what a hero I am. You won't—but you really don't have to make things more foul every day. Go walk in the sun and feel healing power please but remember I'm sitting in the floor surrounded by the boxes of a family that is 100% gone. And you are silent as always. Not, in my opinion, what a good person does. Good people have emotions and express them. Like pain. And anger. And neediness. And terror. And depression. We have parts that speak up to defend us from danger when the sun has long stopped shining.
Comments
Post a Comment