Not Guilty

I am back from my writers block! My vacation was postponed so I can’t regal you with stories from the great scrub-down of ’10 just yet. I worried for a bit that my kinder and gentler state of mind might impede on my writing and The Bucket would be Bebe-less due to clear thinking and rational behavior. Not to worry though. Yes, I have been feeling good and I have my health issues on track, but I still completely maintain a certain amount of absurdity that hopefully still comes out and touches people’s hearts here on the Bucket.

Anyway, in the past few days it’s been made abundantly clear to me that I am quite big on accountability and how it shape people’s lives. My mom was married for a lot of years to a pretty simple fellow who was, and most likely still is, a raging alcoholic with a dependency on his mother that was none to healthy for anyone involved in his world. He made countless mistakes in the course of our life and created a lot of long-lasting havoc for members of my family who are still struggling in their own ways today. He has never admitted to any wrong doing, and confronting him about anything is a fruitless and frustrating task.

After my mom finally divorced him and created a far better life for herself, I still maintained a certain allegiance to him. I don’t know if it was misguided loyalty, pity, compassion, or habit. But I did.  His final blow to the family is when he stole my sister’s identity, more or less, and ruined her finances for quite a while. His mother bailed him out of trouble, and both denied any wrong doing at all. That was the final straw for me. He no longer deserved anything by way of me, and I no longer felt the obligation to maintain a relationship.  I haven’t talked to nor seen him in years, and I am okay with that. What I am not okay with is that he is so far gone and so up his mother’s ass that neither one of them will ever realize or care that I am gone. I am sure that it is all my fault, and my mothers, of course. I will not be respected in any kind of way, and most of all I will have to live for the rest of my life knowing I told them how wrong they did us, and they don’t get it. It’s not even that they don’t care. They honestly don’t have it in them to have any accountability at all.  I can tell you for a fact that in my experience, not being able to vent your guts out to someone at all is far better than venting your guts out and being met with complete ignorance.

I can say I made my peace and spoke my mind and moved on. And I have. But that’s me. I have fine tuned my ability to weather a storm and for that I am quite proud. But for others, it’s not always that easy. My stepson has gone through hell and back with his mother. She has a lot of problems and she has made a tremendous amount of mistakes and she has openly stated she has no idea why her kids hate her. She really and truly doesn’t know. I think that is part of her sickness and I try to show compassion for her overall. But my stepson is 18 years old now and has already stated how much he wished that she would just state the obvious. She fucked up. She is sorry. But no. Instead he has to deal with making peace with her and himself. That’s a lot to ask a kid, and I am whole-heartedly sorry that he has to make that decision.

Yes, I know adversity should make the average person strong, and a strong person stronger. Yes, the lessons we learn in life shape who we are. Obladi, oblada and all of that noise. But really, the satisfaction of hearing someone say “I did this. I am sorry.” makes up for all of the therapy, booze, antipsychotics and ice cream in the world.

In the end, consequences are always paid out. The old drunk husband has no family to really speak of and can’t function on his own. The grandmother is no longer a grandmother to a couple of kids, and is a great-grandmother to no one. The stepson’s mother will have a lifetime of only getting a fraction of  love and acceptance with an insurmountable amount of pity from her son. Will they ever realize this? 

Most likely not.

Lucky them.



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