God, you’re such a liar.

[imood mood at time of entry: cranky]

I always think over the way in which my family interacts with one another. There is good food, the occasional laugh, and a never-ending strand of lies. It is as though deceit and manipulation are going to fall off of the face of the earth, and my family is attempting to spend as much time as possible cramming it in. I know that my family cannot be the only one with this inclination to lie spectacularly rather than tell even the smallest truth, but I’ve only been subjected to my own, so I can’t speak for anyone else.

Through the years, there have been the big demons (Yes, that’s what I’m going to call them.): Aunt Precious, Uncle Julius, and Grandma (maternal). They are the sort of people that smile in your face, but say how fat/stupid/terrible/etc. you are behind your back. This, of course, does/did not stop them from saying as much to your face and in front of your friends.

They would tell you not to do one thing, only to turn around and do it themselves. They live in a world of ‘I’m old. I’m right.’, as if that should explain away why they can sit around gossiping all day, but forbid The Children from having a regular conversation on the phone with a school friend.

Recently, my Aunt Nelma moved back here from California to be closer to the family. She said that she had gotten sick about a year ago and didn’t have anyone to speak for her there. That’s completely understandable.

I thought that since she could see the major flaws in the family’s relationships, she would be immune to them. It turns out that she isn’t. This is not to say that I thought she should be or would be a perfect person, because I don’t. It’s simply the fact that she sits around and talks about how her sisters and brothers, including Aunt Precious and Uncle Julius, are this, that, and the other thing.

She is currently living in an apartment, but she wants to build a house of her own on the family land down the street from my house. She is, in fact, part owner of that land, which is where Grandma used to live. That was until Grandma had the aneurysm and strokes nearly five years ago. Since Grandma hasn’t lived there in nearly five years, thieves, drug addicts, and general no-goods have ransacked the house and stolen what they could. The house fell into a deeper state of disrepair than it even had, not that it was a good-looking house in the time that I’ve known it.

Because of the house’s appearance and its lack of residents, the city sent out a letter saying that it was to be torn down. I had hoped that someone in the family would be able to fix the house up, but that didn’t happen. The house was torn down over the last week, and all that is left is the front steps, the back steps, and what’s left of the chimney. I took pictures of part of the process, which will be an entry as soon as I can develop the film to a CD.

Anyway, getting back to my point, Aunt Nelma wants to build her house there. When I go to visit her, she tells me about her plans for the family land and we spend a bit of time searching for floor plans on the Internet to Oooh and Ahhh over. Every other sentence out of her mouth, would be an order not to inform anyone else in the family about her desire to gain total ownership of the family land. I simply nod and listen to her repeat the same house plans and designs she wants every time I see her these days.

On one occasion when I was there and we were supposed to be hanging pictures, but we got sidetracked. We made shrimp salad for lunch/dinner. I chopped all of the shrimp and she assembled the salad. Once she was finished, she fixed herself a portion of it and fixed me a portion. I thought that since she got what she wanted and declined my offers to share what she had given to me with her, I could eat my portion freely. Apparently, this not true of any household in my family except my own.

I came to find this out when my mother spoke me later on as she gave me a ride home. She told me that one of Aunt Nelma’s pet peeves is someone eating the last of something. I asked her if Aunt Nelma had said anything to her and she said ‘No.’ I was certain that Aunt Nelma must have, because how else would my mother have known that I ate something at our aunt’s house? Not to mention the fact that there was a pronounced bit of whispering when my mother arrived at Aunt Nelma’s house. It was then when I realized that Aunt Nelma had pulled one of her “Don’t tell so-and-so this. . ” routines. This family has more than enough people who operate in that fashion and there isn’t a need for more of them.

With some of the people in the family, I know that it is an intentional move to create fissions in various people’s relationship with one another. With Aunt Nelma, I don’t know if this is true of her intentions or not – yet. I do know that it has reinforced the fact that I can’t believe a word my lying mother says to me. If she tells me anything, I find that have to believe the opposite to get to the truth. It’s been this way my entire life, and that’s not how you build a successful relationship. Which explains why we don’t have the best relationship as individuals or mother and daughter. We probably never will.

This has me wondering where the lying in the family will stop and where the honest relationships will begin. I would confidently say that it would begin once Aunt Precious’ generation dies off, but that’s not true. They’ve already passed their means of “communication” on to my generation, as it has my brother, Brandon, lying through his teeth about everything. This includes the things they tell him to lie about, like the time that he was taken to jail for stealing a CD player and headphones. Aunt Precious specifically told Brandon and Mom not to tell me about the incident, as though it would somehow change it. I still don’t know her reasoning behind it, other than she’s a horrid bitch that I’ve been wishing death to for years. Even if that sounds terrible, what else am I going to be wishing her? Good health? Not likely.

I suppose that it doesn’t really matter what I wish, because she’s more than likely going to live a long time. People seem to do that in this family.

Upon being asked directly if she, Aunt Precious, knew anything about someone from a jailhouse calling our house after I spotted the number on the caller ID, she made up some bullshit story about people being able to route calls through our phone line to get more phone calls. This sounded like the biggest crock I’d ever heard when she told me about it. This was before I found out about her telling everyone to lie about who had really been in jail.

I suppose that all I can say is this: It sure is good to have family.

Danielle