Opening Old Wounds

I am an awful person.

I know this. I have no illusions about it. I do feel badly about it, but it doesn't change the initial reaction.

Yesterday, I got a Christmas card. Any other year, I'd just be mildly annoyed that I got a CHRISTMAS card from anyone. I know they mean well, and I try to ignore the really blatant religious themes. (I'm not talking about cards that say "Merry Christmas." I'm talking about cards that quote Bible verses at you.)

But this card was from my aunt. The aunt who last year was dying. The aunt whose last Christmas on Earth was last year. The aunt that was so sick, my mother had to drop everything, including her promise to me to be home for the holidays, to spend this last Christmas with her sister. The card was from that aunt. Who will apparently be around this Christmas.

Included in the card is the annual Christmas letter. The first two paragraphs of the letter extol the virtues of my mother for caring for my aunt.

All I could think was that my mother was a rotten mother for abandoning her children, AGAIN, to care for her sister during her final days... And they weren't even her final days!

I am an awful, rotten, horrible person. I know this. I wish I weren't. I wish I could just forgive, forget, and move on. And I have. Mostly. But not fully, apparently.

I should just be happy she's still alive. I should be glad that she appreciates that my mother gave up so much to help.

Instead, I read her letter as a personal attempt to convince me that my mother is a wonderful person. I know it's a form letter. I know it's the Christmas equivalent of spam, not directed at me in any way, shape or form (probably).

It just showed me how much I really still feel annoyed at my mother's decision.

And I know I should be over it.

That's how I know I'm an awful person.