Resentment

I have kind of a different subject on my mind and heart today. I tried writing it last night, but my fingers just would not move, and I was far too tired to try and force it out like I am known to do sometimes. Forgive me if this is a bit jumbled; sometimes my thoughts pour out randomly, and it is my habit to just write them down as they come....

To understand the subject of this post, I need to give you a little background info. I've already talked about my father passing away almost ten years ago. After he died, the relationship that I had with pretty much everyone on his side of the family except for his mom changed. And I mean really changed. My grandfather became absolutely vicious towards my mother. My uncles and cousins spent absolutely no time speaking to us. In fact, the only person who still treated us like family was my grandmother, but even she keeps pressing us to try and talk to and have a relatioship with him, which makes things a little awkward between my family and her at times.

My dad wrote both of my sisters and me a personal letter before he died. My grandfather thought he had some claim to them, so he sent us xerox copies. He sent us the actual letters five years later, and he couldn't figure out why we were just falling at his feet in gratitude. Also, my dad worked at UPS, and after his death, his coworkers raised about $1500 for our family. My grandfather got it and promised them that he would deliver it to us. He never did. In fact, we didn't even know the money existed for a few years.

Which brings me to the subject of my blog: resentment. I have so much anger and frustration built up inside me from over the years from the torture that man has thrust upon my family. Listening to my mother, who has done everything humanly possible to give my sisters and I the best life we could get, get screamed at that she was a horrible person who didn't deserve to be a parent broke my heart. He kept the money, expecting us to come crawling to him begging for it when it came time to deal with college. Now, maybe it's just a great deal of pride, but we all swore to ourselves that we'd be living in a cardboard box before we went to him begging for anything. It just hurts me, though, because I don't want to have so much hatred for him. He's my grandfather; I'm supposed to love and adore him, and he me. But how could he be so heartless to his own grandchildren? Half the time he doesn't even remember our birthdays. It used to upset us, and now we just don't even expect to get a simple card from him. But it's just like....I don't want to be so angry. I want to be able to forgive him for everything he's done, but I just don't feel like I have that power. There's just too much hurt there. I can't be friendly with someone who would hurt my mom the way he has. And the heartless things his wife (his fourth wife, I might add) did even before my dad died are just kind of like icing on the anger cake. Like smoking in the car with the windows rolled up when we told her repeatedly that I have horrible asthma. What an angel, huh?

Since 2000, I've seen him three times. And when I have, it's like there's no love there. There's no compassion in his eyes when he forces himself to hug me. A small part of me misses him, but there's that overpowering voice in my head that screams that I just can't forgive him for all the pain he's caused. Not yet, anyway.

He's not even the only one who causes this feeling in me. There's someone much closer to me who's actually caused more problems and pain than he has. My sister, Chelsea. Since I don't really remember anything from before my dad died, all the memories I have involving my sister are of her being violent, self-centered, and cruel, but my mom has said many times that when my dad was alive, she was a sweet, funny, loving angel. But anyway....

Chelsea has diagnosed mental issues, so I know that she can't necessarily help the damage she's caused. But that doesn't change the anger and resentment I feel towards her over the emotional and physical damage she's brought. She's slammed my head into a tile counter, she's thrown glasses at my mom, she's beaten in doors and punched holes in walls. She's threatened to kill my mother and me, she's told us dozens of times that she wishes we were dead. When my mom kicked her out because we just couldn't take it anymore, my grandmother ended up renting her a trailer. She got evicted from it. She's been evicted from a homeless shelter. A homeless shelter. How do you get evicted from a place for people who don't have a home? And worst of all, when my mom and I were in South Carolina in September 2007 so I could have my spine surgery, she invited some of her "friends" over, and they stole $11,000+ in jewelry, including my great-grandmother's diamond engagement/wedding ring set and the gold necklaces that were the last Christmas gifts my sisters and I received from my dad. And in my heart, I just keep thinking, how can I forgive that? I don't want to hate her. She's my sister. I want to have that close relationship with her that everyone expects to have with their siblings. (And, granted, my relationship with Holly isn't that great at the moment, but in the end, I know she'd be there for me. I know what I have with Holly is ten times better than what Chelsea and I have.) It's just like...how can I want to be there for someone who has repeatedly told my mom and me that she wants to disown us as family? As soon as I think I'm finally beginning to let go of the anger that I've built up towards her, she does some other horrible thing, and it's like I'm back to square one. The worst part of it all is that there have been times in the past year or so where I've actually questioned how much I really love her. And that scares the hell out of me. I want to love my sister like I love the rest of my family, more than anything in the world. But right now...I just don't.

I guess my biggest problem in all of this is begging God to take away my pain. Part of me has lost hope that these relationships are ever going to change. But maybe they will. And if they do, I will welcome them with open arms. My impatience is kicking in, making it hard to wait for things to turn around. I just hope and pray that one day God will take away my anger, my hurt, my frustration, my resentment, so I can love them again.