L
lovedance4ever
Guest
Hey all, I promise this post is not as stupid as my other petty problems lol. Laughter aside, this is an urgent and very unhappy situation.
Let me give you a little background first. My parents and I moved to our current home when I was two years old. We live in a double, two bedrooms in the first apartment, two bedrooms upstairs. My father (who is a VERY big-hearted man) did not want to rent out to complete strangers, and invited my aunt (my mom’s sister) to move into the upstairs apartment. Now, my mom knowing all of her sister’s ideosyncrasies, advised against this, but my father insisted that it would be alright.
Well it was alright for the first year or so, but then there was the family picnic (on my mom’s side). My mother, father, aunt, and I (mind you, I was only three at the time) took the van and headed to the park. When we got there, Aunt Cindy (that’s what we’ll call her) headed to greet her relatives without thinking to help us. My father was exhausted, and mumbled under his breath “gee, you could at least help us.” Now maybe that was not the greatest thing to say, but he certainly did not deserve the response he got.
Aunt Cindy blew a gasket, in every essence of the word. She went around screaming at the top of her lungs, telling all of the relatives what a “bastard” my father has been. She literally became a monster, there is no other way to describe it. It is like she turns into some other person. On the ride home, my father told her to move out, but she begged for his forgiveness and said she would “never do it again.” And in his bighearted way, he accepted it and moved on.
Living with Aunt Cindy became more and more horrible when I was pressured into taking piano lessons with her when I was four years old. She was horrible to me, screaming when I hit a wrong note, rolling her eyes, pushing my hands away and insulting me. I eventually quit (thanks to my daddy), but to this day, she makes fun of me for “never getting out of the first grade book.”
But then Aunt Sally moved in, who was long-time friend of both my mom and Aunt Cindy. Aunt Sally was the polar opposite of Aunt Cindy, and quickly earned the title of aunt. She played dolls with me, taught me how to draw, and did not frighten me the way Aunt Cindy did. I adored her and still do. Well, Aunt Cindy has an extremely jealous streak, and I remember huge blowouts between her and my parents, because she was jealous of my relationship with Aunt Sally. It was a living nightmare for me and I was only five.
The fights about Aunt Sally and me eventually simmered down, but my aunt’s temper about other things didn’t. One time when my mother and father were out and I was the only one in our apartment, my Aunt Cindy came downstairs to chat. We got onto the topic of a difficult family situation (which is a whole other story), and disagreed on something. I politely said, “Aunt Cindy, I would rather not speak about this right now,” and I do not know why, but that hit her the wrong way, because she was screaming at the top of her lungs like she had before at the picnic. I was PETRIFIED. She was jumping around the room, swinging her coat around and got right up in my face. I was so scared that I locked myself in the bathroom, listening to her pound on the door. After she left, I called my mom and begged her to come home.
Nothing was done about that situation, and my aunt again apologized saying that she would “never do it again.”
Which brings me to our current situation. Aunt Cindy still does not like it when Aunt Sally and I do things together, and so Auntie Sally and I usually have to sneak out of the house or sadly have to lie about what it is we are doing, otherwise she will either invite herself along, or complain about not having been invited. Well, this Saturday like every Saturday, Aunt Sally and I planned to go to lunch and then to a book store. Everything was all set, until Aunt Cindy came downstairs. She had not gotten much sleep, and was in an even worse than usual mood. She said she wanted to go out to eat and asked if anyone wanted to go with her. We said we had plans, but did not really say anything other than that. Aunt Cindy remains silent, and then quietly goes upstairs without any other word. We knew we were in for it, and we were. My mom got a phone call from her, complaining about how “no one ever wants to do anything with her.”
I went and took a shower while this was going on. As I was drying my hair, I thought someone had stepped on our dog’s tail, because I heard screeching. I turned the hairdryer off, and realized it was Aunt Cindy screaming at Aunt Sally. The dialogue went like this (and I will have to alter it a bit):
“I hate you! You stole Christa from me! You’re an fing b*! I hate you!”
She slammed the door, and went upstairs. Aunt Sally had remained silent through the whole attack, even thought she had been all up in her face. Not five minutes later, Aunt Cindy came downstairs and began to apologize profusely, just like the other horrible attacks.
Luckily, this attack was in front of my father and mother, so they could see what I had been facing for many years. (continued below)
Let me give you a little background first. My parents and I moved to our current home when I was two years old. We live in a double, two bedrooms in the first apartment, two bedrooms upstairs. My father (who is a VERY big-hearted man) did not want to rent out to complete strangers, and invited my aunt (my mom’s sister) to move into the upstairs apartment. Now, my mom knowing all of her sister’s ideosyncrasies, advised against this, but my father insisted that it would be alright.
Well it was alright for the first year or so, but then there was the family picnic (on my mom’s side). My mother, father, aunt, and I (mind you, I was only three at the time) took the van and headed to the park. When we got there, Aunt Cindy (that’s what we’ll call her) headed to greet her relatives without thinking to help us. My father was exhausted, and mumbled under his breath “gee, you could at least help us.” Now maybe that was not the greatest thing to say, but he certainly did not deserve the response he got.
Aunt Cindy blew a gasket, in every essence of the word. She went around screaming at the top of her lungs, telling all of the relatives what a “bastard” my father has been. She literally became a monster, there is no other way to describe it. It is like she turns into some other person. On the ride home, my father told her to move out, but she begged for his forgiveness and said she would “never do it again.” And in his bighearted way, he accepted it and moved on.
Living with Aunt Cindy became more and more horrible when I was pressured into taking piano lessons with her when I was four years old. She was horrible to me, screaming when I hit a wrong note, rolling her eyes, pushing my hands away and insulting me. I eventually quit (thanks to my daddy), but to this day, she makes fun of me for “never getting out of the first grade book.”
But then Aunt Sally moved in, who was long-time friend of both my mom and Aunt Cindy. Aunt Sally was the polar opposite of Aunt Cindy, and quickly earned the title of aunt. She played dolls with me, taught me how to draw, and did not frighten me the way Aunt Cindy did. I adored her and still do. Well, Aunt Cindy has an extremely jealous streak, and I remember huge blowouts between her and my parents, because she was jealous of my relationship with Aunt Sally. It was a living nightmare for me and I was only five.
The fights about Aunt Sally and me eventually simmered down, but my aunt’s temper about other things didn’t. One time when my mother and father were out and I was the only one in our apartment, my Aunt Cindy came downstairs to chat. We got onto the topic of a difficult family situation (which is a whole other story), and disagreed on something. I politely said, “Aunt Cindy, I would rather not speak about this right now,” and I do not know why, but that hit her the wrong way, because she was screaming at the top of her lungs like she had before at the picnic. I was PETRIFIED. She was jumping around the room, swinging her coat around and got right up in my face. I was so scared that I locked myself in the bathroom, listening to her pound on the door. After she left, I called my mom and begged her to come home.
Nothing was done about that situation, and my aunt again apologized saying that she would “never do it again.”
Which brings me to our current situation. Aunt Cindy still does not like it when Aunt Sally and I do things together, and so Auntie Sally and I usually have to sneak out of the house or sadly have to lie about what it is we are doing, otherwise she will either invite herself along, or complain about not having been invited. Well, this Saturday like every Saturday, Aunt Sally and I planned to go to lunch and then to a book store. Everything was all set, until Aunt Cindy came downstairs. She had not gotten much sleep, and was in an even worse than usual mood. She said she wanted to go out to eat and asked if anyone wanted to go with her. We said we had plans, but did not really say anything other than that. Aunt Cindy remains silent, and then quietly goes upstairs without any other word. We knew we were in for it, and we were. My mom got a phone call from her, complaining about how “no one ever wants to do anything with her.”
I went and took a shower while this was going on. As I was drying my hair, I thought someone had stepped on our dog’s tail, because I heard screeching. I turned the hairdryer off, and realized it was Aunt Cindy screaming at Aunt Sally. The dialogue went like this (and I will have to alter it a bit):
“I hate you! You stole Christa from me! You’re an fing b*! I hate you!”
She slammed the door, and went upstairs. Aunt Sally had remained silent through the whole attack, even thought she had been all up in her face. Not five minutes later, Aunt Cindy came downstairs and began to apologize profusely, just like the other horrible attacks.
Luckily, this attack was in front of my father and mother, so they could see what I had been facing for many years. (continued below)