So! Change of plans. Again.
The job didn't work out. Long story short: they put me in danger, and they put their patients in danger, and I don't support that. So I left. But, it's fine. I have a new career.
Homewrecker.
I'm very good at it so far. I've managed to make a lot of family members angry without even trying. Finally! I've found something I'm good at!
Allow me to fill you in. For the last year, my MIA uncle resurfaced and has been living with Grandma and I. Alright. Fine. Then, Grandma had the scary surgery and the rigorous recovery. All of a sudden I'm stupid. According to the intruding uncle, I know nothing about Grandma, don't know the first thing about caring for people in their mature phase of life, and have no clue how to "run the house" while Grandma is out of commission. Let's look back over the last few years, shall we?
- I've lived with Grandma almost all of my 26 years. Not a single day has gone by in which I haven't spoken to her. Not one. We know each other inside and out.
- Who was here when Grandpa got so ill? Who was there everyday at the hospital with him? Who moved home to help him and spend time with him? Oh right. Not you. That was Kim.
- One of our little poodles (whom I picked out when I was 15, by the way) is diabetic. I'm pretty sure I've been one of his "caregivers" for years. Also, if I'm not mistaken, I've been a member of the household for years. I think... I think... I know how things work.
You can determine for yourself my qualifications to help Grandma out, like I was already doing. However, another has found me unfit to fulfill such duties. That's fine. I'll take a step back and let you try to work off some of the guilt you have for not being here, and not giving a rat's ass for however many decades you decided you no longer wanted to be a part of this family. (Woah... I guess I am upset. Look at that run on sentence!) You can kiss Grandma's tush all you want. It'll probably work. Let me rephrase, it did work. She's wrapped around your precious little finger. But, like I said, that's fine.
What's NOT fine, however, is your "attitude". Your anger and rage are unsatisfactory. Examples include, but are not limited to:
- You've thrown my cat
- You've yelled at our timid, afraid, once highly abused dog
- I once had to separate you from my mom's dog when you had your hand around his throat.
In what universe are any of these behaviors deemed acceptable?!
But, I digress. The point is, I've made my case to Grandma on several occasions. I've stated my discomfort and feelings of being unsafe. I said unsafe. Who deserves to feel unsafe in their own home? No one. I've felt afraid in my house for a year now. But, Grandma made her choice. He's still here, and "she said he wouldn't be".
She lied.
So, I'm out. She chose him. The one person in this whole giant planet I thought would always be my teammate left me. I didn't think I could feel such a sense of betrayal. Especially from her. I just feel as though my foundations have been shattered. I don't know how to even view the world anymore.
Oh! I forgot the best part. Another family member or two now hates my guts. Because of my choice to try and save myself from the road of grief, panic, and irreversible decisions, I must be selfish, spoiled, and mean. Apparently, I don't care about Grandma. I'm horrible and only care about myself.
This is where the homewrecker part comes in. I'm leaving. My mom needs some help getting her house ready for the arrival of my niece. So, heigh ho, heigh ho, it's off to Idaho I go. I leave Monday.
One by one, my family will hate me for the decision. Some of them already do. I figure it's only a matter of time. Maybe I am selfish and careless. I suppose I am being reckless with Grandma's feelings. Evidently, there's a price to pay when you run for your life.
