Drama

I.  Fucking.  Hate.  Drama.

It was the reason I moved away from my family to begin with.  It's the reason I could never live too close to them ever again (any less than 4 hours is too close).

This is more of a rant than anything.  I don't care who reads it, I just need to get my thoughts down some place so I can get it all out of my head and go to fucking sleep.

Earlier today I found a petition to introduce a bill that would require teachers of certain grades to educate children on child abuse, not only from a stranger, but from a person the child may know.  The law is called Erin's Law and the woman courageously stepping forward was sexually abused (raped) as a 6 year old, repeatedly.

So I signed it.  I put a long-winded comment in the post, and posted it on the petition website.  However, it also posted what I had said to Facebook.  Well I removed it because I didn't want people seeing about my sister having been abused as a child.  That's her business to give out, not my own.

My sister didn't see the actual post, but I told her about it and told her about the petition.  She signed it.  Our cousin signed it.  She posted a fairly large rant of her own about how nobody protected her and in a specific way, it's not only our grandfather who is to blame, but our grandmother and mother for not preventing it all together by sending him to jail when he did the same shit to our mother.

A couple hours after this, my mother calls me as I am headed to the grocery store and demands that I get my sister to apologize for saying those things, and take back the fact she still blames my mother, otherwise she (my mother) won't come to my wedding.

What?

How fucking immature do you have to be to say that?  How incredibly childish, to turn to me and make me fix her problems.  If she wants an apology from my sister, call my sister, don't bitch to me about it.

She has every right to blame our mother.  She has every right to blame each and every person that knew about this shit (prior to her abuse) and not have done everything in their power to prevent it from happening to anybody else.

My mom's excuse, which I hate the most out of all of this, is that she asked my sister, repeatedly, if our grandfather was doing anything to her.  She was eight.  She couldn't tell what was right or wrong.  He had manipulated her so thoroughly that she couldn't tell anyone until she was 16.

If my mother had done the right thing 45 years ago when this shit started with her, by going to the cops, or if my grandmother had done that when her daughter told her about it, NONE of this shit would have happened.  He would have gone to jail, and when he got out, we would have had nothing to do with him.

But no.  As a true Catholic Italian family, they buried it deep down inside themselves and took care of the problem within the family by not talking about it.  Put up the facade to the rest of the planet and let everyone believe everything is fine.

Moving out was difficult, but I had a lot of help.  My dad floated me a few months while I was looking for a job, and Luke was the biggest lifesaver in the world.  I will be forever grateful for their kindness while I was breaking out in to the real world.

What I cannot forgive is my mother blaming my sister, the victim, for the prolonged abuse she experienced.  Nothing is ever my mother's fault.  Ever.  All her problems are because of someone else (her father, my father, her boyfriends after divorcing my dad).  See a trend?

And in true Catholic Italian fashion, she refused for decades to get help.  She has yet to see a counselor, to my knowledge, consistently enough to come to terms with what happened to her and move on.

If you don't want to be at my wedding because you don't like my sister's reality, fine.  If you're going to stoop so low as to threaten me with not going to my wedding because my sister said something you don't like, fine.  I don't want you there.  The last thing I want at my wedding is drama.