Cynical Bastard

Today is September 3, 2023.

The thing I really enjoyed about blogging from the start was the feeling that it opened up my world. I used it as an online journal, someplace to to write out my thoughts and share my struggles. And what I got in return was an enormous amount of kindness from all different sorts of people.

Then my kiddos came along and I stopped writing publicly, as my world shrunk to the size of a baby, then toddler, then child, now teenager. So much of the generation of my kid is lived online without their consent. I did not want to contribute to that.

This past week I learned that one of the bloggers who had offered me enormous kindness passed away at far too young of an age. As we moved from blogging to other types of social media, I kept in touch with him and counted him as a friend. 

I've walked around in a bit of a fog since I heard the news. feeling very much like it is really the permanent end of something special. My world feels just a little bit smaller right now.

Rest in Peace, Cynical Bastard. Thank you so much for being kind when I needed it the most.

Here I Am, Back Again - Post Pandemic Edition - Part One

Long time, no chat non-existent blogger readers.

So far, I have survived the pandemic. I've done the exercising, started mindfulness, drank too much alcohol at times (getting that back under control) and am struggling to reconcile my relationship with spouses family of origin in a soon-to-be post pandemic existence.

The short version is that I don't want to deal with them in any way, shape or form in my post pandemic existence.

I written A LOT about trying to navigate a relationship with them over the past two decades. And things went from stressful to "OK, I can live with this" for a pretty good period of time. I set and enforced some personal boundaries, closed my ears to the criticism and lived my life. I made a point of never denying them reasonable access to their grandchild. In all honesty, things were actually pretty good once I stopped caring about what they thought about me and stopped trying to please them.

Then one of J's niblings got married, there were some seriously bad behavior on the part of J's parents surrounding the nuptials. I made some mental notes under the heading "things to keep an eye on in relation to my own kid" and moved on.

Then the pandemic happened. 

And the bullshit got bad. Really bad. Bad enough that packing up and moving far, far away feels like a viable option.

Now things are opening up and I'm having anxiety attacks over dealing with socializing with them. Bad enough that  J gently suggest that I see a therapist. And he is right,

But I'm also going to write about it again, publicly because I'm tired of playing nice.

I Knew

That it was only a matter of time before a priest I knew personally would appear on a  list somewhere. Honestly, I’m surprised it took as long as it did.

Friday was that day.

I wish I could say that I was shocked. I’m not.

I’ve seen too often at how well depravity can mask itself.

I just feel very, very sad.

Brunch

I experienced a thing recently and it has gotten stuck in my craw. I vague-ranted on a different social media platform and J was kind enough this afternoon to listen to me purge my feelings of anger and ill-will, but it still remains a bit stuck and I don’t know how else to get it out of my head.

We took J’s parents to brunch on Saturday, a belated celebration of my mother-in-law’s birthday. She chose the cuisine ( a fancy type of buffet), date and time and I took care of making the reservation and paying the check.

In other words - I hosted the meal. 

J dropped us off at the corner across from the restaurant and drove off to find a parking space in a nearby garage.

My father-in-law, the one who is supposed to use a cane or walker and flat out refuses, decided it would be a good idea to jaywalk across the street.

Now it WAS a weekend afternoon in downtown Pittsburgh and traffic is quite light. But even in those circumstances, one does not jaywalk across the street, especially a street that contains a one-way bus lane and buses fly down that lane when the streets are empty. 

So I yelled at him to get off the street and set a better example for his grandson.

Because we were so early we had to wait in the lobby, then at the bar for a bit while they staff finished setting up the dining room. We ordered drinks to take to the table.

Once settled at the table, we got up to get food.

I was the first back to the table and began eating.

Once the other members of the party returned to the table my father-in-law announced we are going to say grace. Out loud. Joined hands, the whole performative religious ritual.

Pause for a second. Grace in public dining establishments was not a thing that my family did, because you do not perform ritualistic acts of “faith” (and the quotes are very, very deliberate ) in such a manner. 

And I absolutely hate it, because my father-in-law does it as an act of aggression, an oppressed upper-middle-white class man sticking it to all the bleeding hearts trying to take away his religions freedom.

Did I mention that I was hosting the meal? Paying for the meal. That I am Forty-five fucking years old and that I, the host, just got treated like a child. Paternalism with a massive etiquette violation on the side.

Something in my broke later that afternoon and has stayed broken, stabbing at the corners of my brain, gnawing at my insides.

And I can’t say a damn thing, because there is absolutely no way for me to stand up for myself that does not start a massive fight. Even a polite comment that I will abstain would be considered an insult.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. And fuck again.

Plans

Mission accomplished! We have committed to going away during a period in which we would normally be expected to spend time with family. We are going somewhere Boy Alien has expressed a repeated desire to visit. Discussions have been had, places and transportation have been booked. Everything is non-refundable.

I am excited. This is the trip I badly wanted to do during a period of too-much-family-togetherness last year, as dealing with his family while mourning my mother's death just felt a too hard. I was talked out of it for the sake of keeping things normal for Boy Alien. It did not go well for me.

This morning I reiterated a comment I made last night about what how I intended to handle any conversation from his parents about cancelling the trip. Which is to request the full reimbursement of transportation and lodging, in spendable cash*.

J announced that we were not saying anything to them. At all. And when we do, it will be in the most vague of terms, as in "we will not be here".

I was surprised, but I should not have been.

*J's father collects coins and bills. It is fully within his MO to agree reimburse us, then pay us in bills and/or coins with no immediate, fungible value. Thus he follows the letter of the agreement while transferring any risk of loss to us when we sell the bills/coins.

The In-Laws Continue to Push

I'm writing this at work, as I need to get out of my head.

One of the coping mechanisms I have learned over the years is to keep ANY information I don't want shared with J's family to myself and to be explicit with J when I am sharing something with him about myself or my family that should not be passed on to J's family. They are strictly on a need-to-know-when-necessary basis, as sharing either leads to gossip or endless attempts to organize our lives.

The reason for this is because J's father is incapable of not gossiping about his kids to his other kids, to his friends, to the former neighbor he last saw twenty years ago. He has no respect for privacy when it comes to his children. All issues are aired out and judged.

And it happened again this weekend, at a family wedding. J's father ran into someone he has not seen in years and promptly spilled all the personal drama about ABIL. I sat there quietly horrified, listening to him discuss the personal issues of his adult son, who is well north of 40 years old and perfectly capable of handling himself.

Later, at dinner J's father asked if we were going to spend the night at their home. J said no. Both of us are still working intense schedules and are still exhausted. The only reason we showed up for the wedding is because we were raised right and would not skip an RSVP.

J's father did not like the word "No" and went into a full-court pressuring of J for us to spend the night. J continued to say "No". J's father then pivoted into yet again asking J to come with them to southern beach city for a week, as they are not permitted to take the Boy Alien out of state without one of his parents in attendance.

Then he sulked.

And J caved, called them when we reached home and invited them out to our house the following day for a late lunch / early dinner to smooth over hurt feelings.

And the parents responded by pressuring J to come out on Monday for dinner. Even though we had seen the entire family 48 hours previous.

Then the gods smiled upon me and created a water main break that left our house with no water pressure, thus forcing us to cancel the lunch.

Mother's Day 2018 - The One with the Dysfunctional* In-laws

It has been a very long time since I had cause to write about my in-laws. Since Boy Alien came along, we all had settled down rather well. The boundaries J and I built so we could balance the raising of a child with familial demands were working out well. They were not always happy with our decisions, but at least they had the sense to not complain about them in my presence.

But there has been upheaval in J's family recently, which has resulted in J's parents, especially J's father, returning to their passive-aggressive, boundary pushing ways. I am hoping that this is merely a glitch, that once the upheaval is resolved, J's parents will settle down again. Otherwise there will be several miserable months and I will be the one causing the misery.

Part I - The Background

J's brother, Awesome BIL, is a priest, . Last fall ABIL realized he was burned out to the point that it was affecting his relationships with everyone. He saw himself becoming mean and passive-aggressive and turning into someone he recognized and did not like. He recognized that he was becoming like many of the older priests he interacts with - joyless and angry.

So he went on a forty day retreat. Forty days turned into a six month leave of absence, which appears to been extended another six months. In short, ABIL is working out his his issues. Working a secular job, attending therapy, learning how to reconcile the secular and spiritual in his life.

It is very important to emphasize that ABIL wants to remain a priest.

Over the years I have "gotten away with" saying things to ABIL that his parents and most people can not and would not say to a priest. Because ABIL is still a human and needs his agnostic, unconventional-by-his-family's-standards brother and SIL to keep him humble.

Is is of no surprise that J's parents are very unhappy with ABIL's current situation.

So what do you do when your adult-in-their-late-forties-child life seemingly spins out of control, even though said child actually has situation firmly in hand and is taking the necessary steps to get better?

If you said "Try to control one of your other adult-in-their-forties-children" you win a cookie!

Part II - The Miscommunication

Last week Boy Alien made a request to spend the Saturday night at the in-laws. This is something he does regularly. Since J's parents were coming to watch Boy Alien play in his game and go out to lunch, they took Boy Alien back with them. J and I would pick him up on Sunday.

At that time, I had not been feeling well, due to side-effects of stopping my antidepressant (it was time). Starting or stopping this particular medication comes with multiple physical side-effects that cause misery for several weeks. I was in week two of withdrawal.

The day of the game was pleasant. Lunch was fun. Boy Alien went off with the in-laws, J and I went off to act like we were 25 and childless instead of in our 40's with a kid.

We woke up Sunday, puttered around, then drove to the in-laws to pick up Boy Alien. I agreed to come along on the ride on the condition that we did not stay for dinner, as I felt utterly terrible due to the withdrawal and because I acted like I was 25 the night before.

Due to construction and an accident (hello summer!) it took us 45 minutes longer the usual to reach the in-laws home, which put us perilously close to dinnertime.

We enter the house. The baseball game is blaring on the radio at a volume that literally shook the wall next to the radio. Same game is also on the television. It is very loud and warm.

And then the bomb is dropped on J and I. The family is celebrating parent's anniversary today. We staying for dinner, right?

J's siblings took it upon themselves to plan a meal for J's parents on Friday. None of them, including ABIL bothered to tell us.

J's parents knew when they came Saturday that this was happening. They did not bother to tell us.

J pushed back. We have things to do at home. I push back. I am not feeling well. We cannot stay for dinner.

ABIL backs us up, reminding his parents that NO ONE bothered to tell us. If ANYONE had bothered to pick up the phone or open their damn fool mouth with greater than 24 hours notice, J and I would have rearranged to accommodate.

FIL, being the asshat that he becomes when he sees that he will might not get his way, completely ignores us and suggests that I go lie down in the spare room. I go to the spare room in an attempt to pull myself back together before I go nuclear. I listen to the shaking of the wall and the blaring radio and cry tears of rage.

Thus J and I have boarded the wayback machine and traveled 15 years in the past to pre-Alien days. Those halcyon days in which his parents pulled this exact stunt all the damn time. If I had the energy, I could probably find one of the entries I wrote about this exact thing.

We collect Boy Alien. We head home. We eat sandwiches for dinner in our quiet house.

Part III - The Fallout

In a reasonable family, it would have ended there. Parents and siblings would have been reminded of the importance of communication, admitted that their feelings of hurt and disappointment are their own damn fault and tried to do better going forward.

J's family is not that kind of reasonable. On Monday J receives a phone call informing him that there will be a Mother's Day dinner at eldest brother's house. No words are said, but the subtext is very, very clear. We hurt feelings, and now we must pay.

So we come full circle. Since J's parents can not do anything for ABIL, they will do (in their minds) the next best thing and attempt to control the youngest child and his family, because we are not on the right path* either and must be corrected.

*Chose your own expletive if so desired.

Cultural Clashing

Things have been a bit tense in the cup-de-sac for the past week. J and I working as peacemakers, as I do not want to live in a place where it feels like all the neighbors are feuding. But some background is necessary, as the neighbors who are the cause of this current low-level simmering are actually the unfortunate victims of the drug-dealing asshat across the street.

I have not written about the drug-dealing asshat publicly, as I did not want to give away too many details. The short version is that a week after we moved into our new home, the asshat moved in across the street. Into a house that cost far more to maintain then he could afford.

As it was winter and he did not know anyone, the first months with the asshat were quiet. Then the asshat lost his job, began sharing his home with a parade of unsavory roommates, dealing pot, entertaining prostitutes and throwing wild parties, essentially making all the residents in the cul-de-sac utterly miserable.

I can even pinpoint the precise day that he showed his true character: the (very) early morning hours of August 7, 2014. The incident involved a missing wallet, a verbal argument between the 40+ year old asshat and three teenage girls and eventually the police. Who let everyone off with a lecture.

Since that incident has been arrested for dealing drugs (summer 2015), delayed his court appearances for over TWO YEARS and finally to get the charges against him dismissed on a technicality in December.

Asshat is now renting out his home on Airbnb, to suspiciously high ratings.

Cue three weeks ago. The father of our very lovely, non-Christian neighbor, dies. Lovely neighbor (P) comes over to tell us that his father has passed away and that there will be a considerable amount of activity around his home. He asks us to let him know if they become too disruptive.

I give my sympathies and tell him to do what he needs to do.

Things are OK at first. P also applied to the borough for a short-term zoning variance to deal with the activity around his house, as his faith requires an extensive and ritualistic period of mourning and requires that the house be open to visitors 24/7 during the mourning period.

Unfortunately, the length of time is not well communicated to the neighbors and some of P’s visitors act inappropriately during the night - drinking, noise, leave trash. Asshat also takes the opportunity to host visitors at P’s expense.

So there is noise and trash and sleepless nights for some of the neighbors. One of the visitors decides to get out of the driveway by backing out over our lawn. Complaints are made to the chief of police, who has dealt with this before and asks us to be patient.

J visits P’s home on Friday evening to let him know that it is becoming too much and neighbors are upset. P asks all of us to please come for lunch on Saturday. J, Boy Alien and I go. The other neighbors say no. We go because I absolutely do not want to be feuding with all the neighbors.

The family is still in mourning. Lunch is amazing. Family is surprised that J and I enjoy the spiced food. P and his siblings explain the meaning of all the rituals. Repeated apologies are given. P is not caucasian and I can imagine how nerve-wracking it can be to inadvertently piss off a bunch of the neighbors in the current political climate.

Saturday evening J and I stop at one of the neighbors most affected by the noise and encourage him to have a conversation with P. Neighbor says he will wait until the mourning period is over and he has calmed down a little more.

Hoping for peace.