Judgment Day
I noticed yesterday that, when I don’t blog, I don’t get any emails. And I love emails. So, back to the blogging I go…
Yesterday I stayed home from work, thanks to a killer migraine. I’m always hesitant to call in sick with a migraine to a new place because there’s always at least someone who says to his or herself, “Oh it’s just a headache, she could come to work.” Anyone who says this has obviously never had a migraine or even been around someone who has. I get bad ones. The kind that makes even the act of opening the eyes as painful as the worst hangover you’ve ever had. The kind that makes you feel on the verge of vomiting all day. The kind that makes you just wish you would roll over and die.
I did not die, however, as you might have noticed. But I did do a lot of sleeping…sleeping while wearing the lovely sleep mask, a la Carrie Bradshaw, in order to stop the glare of the sunless day outside my window. Once I woke up, I felt a little better (sleep is the only thing that helps a migraine, really…unless you have some good drugs), so I decided to nibble on a breakfast cereal bar and watch t.v.
I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I watched three, that’s right THREE, episodes of Laguna Beach on MTV. What the fuck is this show, anyway? I never had this much drama in high school. And I certainly did not get asked to prom with as much creativity and expensive taste as these slutty, disrespectful, catty girls did. If I’d been the guys on this show, I would’ve just taken a 40 and gone out behind the prom with my buds and gotten shitty. To hell with those bitches.
After feeling rightfully ashamed of watching an hour and a half of this bullshit, I got up to get the mail. In the midst of a few bills and “Dear Occupant” crap, I found a birthday card from my Uncle Rick. Most people, when finding a birthday card from a family member, will be excited. I, however, know that the cards from Uncle Rick are always slightly judgmental and more than a little bit condescending.
Let me give you a little backstory. My Uncle Rick is currently in a jail in Arkansas. He is in jail for the use and possession of illegal drugs. He has been there for at least ten years, and it has been that long since I have seen him. He has since seen the error of his ways, and, during his time spent in prison, he has made quite the turnaround. As most of these enlightening experiences in prison are, this one happens to be of a religious nature. He obviously feels extremely guilty about not having been there for me or my brother Derek or my cousin Morgan. However, rather than just act like a normal Uncle, he instead passes judgment under the guise of, “I’m just worried you’ll screw up like I did.”
Now, I know. I can’t really blame him, right? I mean, he hasn’t seen us in a decade, so, in his eyes we are still 14, 13, and 11. He also feels guilty, I understand this. But this self-righteousness that is coming out as a result of his own guilt added to his spiritual rebirth can get a little bit cumbersome, and I can’t help but wonder if I’m the only one receiving the effects of it.
For graduation, he sent me a card with $50 and a loooooong letter enclosed. It was all about how I need to make the right decisions, put God at the forefront of my life and make sure that I don’t make the same mistakes he did. He also mentioned that by the time he was 18, he had already made so many mistakes under the illusion of being “adventurous.” I couldn’t help but note his use of the word, since my parents and family/friends had been referring to my move to Massachusetts as an “exciting adventure.” The coup de gras, however, was the post script of the letter:
GET MARRIED!!
Only his was underlined at least three times. So, the whole point of his letter, as was made very clear by his last bit of grown-up, “fatherly” advice, was to basically condemn the fact that Michael and I were not only living in sin in Texas, but we were planning to blatantly continue to do so when we moved 2,000 miles away from our family. We apparently weren’t doing the “right thing” by getting married first. This letter pissed me off. A lot. (hey, CatPants, remind you of the guilt-ridden letter with the edge of the condom wrapper stapled to it? Hahahaha)
So, when he called on graduation day, I was a bit calmer but still wasted no words explaining to him, gently, that I was an adult and capable of making my own decisions. I also gently reminded him that I’m six years older than he was when he had his “adventures” in life, and also that he had never even met Michael. I tried to be kind in telling him that, unfortunately, he didn’t know me at all. I think I’ve grown into quite the mature, good-decision-making woman in his absence. In fact, now more than ever I feel that I finally have my red head screwed on straight. And it feels fucking great.
Now…onto the card I received yesterday. The note in this one was considerably shorter, probably per our conversation on my graduation day, but the message was, again, painfully clear. This time it wasn’t about marriage. I apparently made my point clear to him back in August that, when the time was right and the money was there, Michael and I are most assuredly planning on entering into the bonds of holy matrimony.
This time it was a two-paragraph long diatribe on the importance of me finding a home church. “Trust me, Frecklehead, your life will not be fulfilled until you find a family of Christian brothers and sisters to edify you and keep you from straying down the wrong path.”
At this point, I tried furiously to knock myself unconscious.
Let me just clarify a couple of things to you my loyal readers. With the exception of my language (which, at times could make a sailor blush crimson), I feel that my relationship with God, as well as the relationship with Him that Michael and I share, is in a good place. As a matter of fact, it’s improving. We very much want to get married and make this right. We very much want to find a home church, because we feel that is where we’ll make the best kind of friends.
However.
What I do NOT need are those “gentle reminders” that are just dripping with judgment and disapproval from a family member who a) doesn’t even know the person I’ve become and b) really has no right (nor does ANYONE in my family) to say these things to me. The old “I’m saying this because I love you” routine turned into bullshit for me a LOOOONG time ago, when my mom told me that if I gained any more weight she wouldn’t buy me any more clothes.
“I’m saying this because I love you” is a cheap way to get out of the fact that you’re being mean, judgmental, or otherwise unusually cruel to someone that you feel is doing something stupid or wrong.
I just wonder…not that I’m trying to pass any other judgment, because I’m not…but I wonder if I’m the only niece/nephew that’s getting this from him. My brother is 21 and drinks every weekend with his pals. All 21-year-old boys do. My cousin lives with her boyfriend, too, and they are in a strong, committed relationship as well. Does he, for some reason, feel that I should be doing better to set an example or something? Or am I just his focus at the moment? It’s hard to say.
But I’m sick of it.
On a good note, my hair is FABULOUS today.
~Frecklehead
Yesterday I stayed home from work, thanks to a killer migraine. I’m always hesitant to call in sick with a migraine to a new place because there’s always at least someone who says to his or herself, “Oh it’s just a headache, she could come to work.” Anyone who says this has obviously never had a migraine or even been around someone who has. I get bad ones. The kind that makes even the act of opening the eyes as painful as the worst hangover you’ve ever had. The kind that makes you feel on the verge of vomiting all day. The kind that makes you just wish you would roll over and die.
I did not die, however, as you might have noticed. But I did do a lot of sleeping…sleeping while wearing the lovely sleep mask, a la Carrie Bradshaw, in order to stop the glare of the sunless day outside my window. Once I woke up, I felt a little better (sleep is the only thing that helps a migraine, really…unless you have some good drugs), so I decided to nibble on a breakfast cereal bar and watch t.v.
I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I watched three, that’s right THREE, episodes of Laguna Beach on MTV. What the fuck is this show, anyway? I never had this much drama in high school. And I certainly did not get asked to prom with as much creativity and expensive taste as these slutty, disrespectful, catty girls did. If I’d been the guys on this show, I would’ve just taken a 40 and gone out behind the prom with my buds and gotten shitty. To hell with those bitches.
After feeling rightfully ashamed of watching an hour and a half of this bullshit, I got up to get the mail. In the midst of a few bills and “Dear Occupant” crap, I found a birthday card from my Uncle Rick. Most people, when finding a birthday card from a family member, will be excited. I, however, know that the cards from Uncle Rick are always slightly judgmental and more than a little bit condescending.
Let me give you a little backstory. My Uncle Rick is currently in a jail in Arkansas. He is in jail for the use and possession of illegal drugs. He has been there for at least ten years, and it has been that long since I have seen him. He has since seen the error of his ways, and, during his time spent in prison, he has made quite the turnaround. As most of these enlightening experiences in prison are, this one happens to be of a religious nature. He obviously feels extremely guilty about not having been there for me or my brother Derek or my cousin Morgan. However, rather than just act like a normal Uncle, he instead passes judgment under the guise of, “I’m just worried you’ll screw up like I did.”
Now, I know. I can’t really blame him, right? I mean, he hasn’t seen us in a decade, so, in his eyes we are still 14, 13, and 11. He also feels guilty, I understand this. But this self-righteousness that is coming out as a result of his own guilt added to his spiritual rebirth can get a little bit cumbersome, and I can’t help but wonder if I’m the only one receiving the effects of it.
For graduation, he sent me a card with $50 and a loooooong letter enclosed. It was all about how I need to make the right decisions, put God at the forefront of my life and make sure that I don’t make the same mistakes he did. He also mentioned that by the time he was 18, he had already made so many mistakes under the illusion of being “adventurous.” I couldn’t help but note his use of the word, since my parents and family/friends had been referring to my move to Massachusetts as an “exciting adventure.” The coup de gras, however, was the post script of the letter:
GET MARRIED!!
Only his was underlined at least three times. So, the whole point of his letter, as was made very clear by his last bit of grown-up, “fatherly” advice, was to basically condemn the fact that Michael and I were not only living in sin in Texas, but we were planning to blatantly continue to do so when we moved 2,000 miles away from our family. We apparently weren’t doing the “right thing” by getting married first. This letter pissed me off. A lot. (hey, CatPants, remind you of the guilt-ridden letter with the edge of the condom wrapper stapled to it? Hahahaha)
So, when he called on graduation day, I was a bit calmer but still wasted no words explaining to him, gently, that I was an adult and capable of making my own decisions. I also gently reminded him that I’m six years older than he was when he had his “adventures” in life, and also that he had never even met Michael. I tried to be kind in telling him that, unfortunately, he didn’t know me at all. I think I’ve grown into quite the mature, good-decision-making woman in his absence. In fact, now more than ever I feel that I finally have my red head screwed on straight. And it feels fucking great.
Now…onto the card I received yesterday. The note in this one was considerably shorter, probably per our conversation on my graduation day, but the message was, again, painfully clear. This time it wasn’t about marriage. I apparently made my point clear to him back in August that, when the time was right and the money was there, Michael and I are most assuredly planning on entering into the bonds of holy matrimony.
This time it was a two-paragraph long diatribe on the importance of me finding a home church. “Trust me, Frecklehead, your life will not be fulfilled until you find a family of Christian brothers and sisters to edify you and keep you from straying down the wrong path.”
At this point, I tried furiously to knock myself unconscious.
Let me just clarify a couple of things to you my loyal readers. With the exception of my language (which, at times could make a sailor blush crimson), I feel that my relationship with God, as well as the relationship with Him that Michael and I share, is in a good place. As a matter of fact, it’s improving. We very much want to get married and make this right. We very much want to find a home church, because we feel that is where we’ll make the best kind of friends.
However.
What I do NOT need are those “gentle reminders” that are just dripping with judgment and disapproval from a family member who a) doesn’t even know the person I’ve become and b) really has no right (nor does ANYONE in my family) to say these things to me. The old “I’m saying this because I love you” routine turned into bullshit for me a LOOOONG time ago, when my mom told me that if I gained any more weight she wouldn’t buy me any more clothes.
“I’m saying this because I love you” is a cheap way to get out of the fact that you’re being mean, judgmental, or otherwise unusually cruel to someone that you feel is doing something stupid or wrong.
I just wonder…not that I’m trying to pass any other judgment, because I’m not…but I wonder if I’m the only niece/nephew that’s getting this from him. My brother is 21 and drinks every weekend with his pals. All 21-year-old boys do. My cousin lives with her boyfriend, too, and they are in a strong, committed relationship as well. Does he, for some reason, feel that I should be doing better to set an example or something? Or am I just his focus at the moment? It’s hard to say.
But I’m sick of it.
On a good note, my hair is FABULOUS today.
~Frecklehead
posted by Sassy at 11:38 AM
4 Comments:
"I did not die, however, as you might have noticed."
This isn't, by chance, an Eddie Izzard reference, is it? Because if it is, you have grown even cooler in my eyes.
If you don't know who Eddie Izzard is, you should. Work on it. ;-)
LOL. Frecklehead DOES indeed know who Eddie Izzard is... :-D
"I was surprised, were you surprised?" ~Another Eddie Izzard reference pertaining to my comment.
Take it from me, having someone in my family go through a far more "condemnable sin" than living with a boyfriend. If people want to condemn you or "pray for your soul" for doing something, they are going to do just that. I spent a lot of time and energy being upset that my beloved family members who were being so condemning would not accept that many people do not generally arrive at LIFE ALTERING decisions quickly or without thought or consideration, not only for myself but for those around me as well.
If Uncle Rick feels that you are making bad choices, he is probably going to feel that way until you begin to strictly adhere to what he considers to be "good choices", and no amount of pleading or convincing will ever make him feel otherwise.
In the end, I had to just let those people go and ignore pretty much anything and everything that came out of their mouths because there are things far more important than that. If I had listened to everything that my aunts and uncles were saying, I would have probably disowned my father a long time ago. But I had to listen to something else, I had to listen to my heart. Listen to your heart, it wont steer you wrong, and it matters more than what Uncle Rick can ever say.
I feel for you. Donna gets migraines, also, and they can cripple her for a day or so.
Here's the thing: If you think you're right with God, then don't give a second thought to what anyone else thinks. Period.
Hey.
I was looking for that fabulous hair picture.
Take care
the other Michael
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