Hey, Miss J!

First… I’ll state that I feel terrible about what I’m about to write in this post.

However, my feelings need to be laid bare… and I want to feel vindicated and respected. I’ve had many… and I do mean many conversations with friends who have explained what happened to me… It wasn’t good.

One of my best friends told me that I overshare, but I explained that all I share is what I feel comfortable sharing.

And I want this off my chest officially… and in a place where I can show it to my psychiatrist.

The big question that’s been hovering over me for years involves issues of my paternity. The main person who has been the driving force behind it has repeatedly said that “maybe” I am or “maybe” I’m not…

Family.

I have experienced this madness from my aunt for nearly twenty years. She’s found picking at me and picking on me to be a beloved pastime. I had previously cut off contact with my family… twice because of her behavior.

My dad told me that he loved me regardless if I was his child or not.

And I tried to let it slide…

However, the straw that finally broke the camel’s back was an event where I joined a Zoom group with several of our friends. I always come online with my camera off. I guess she didn’t realize I was there because as they were talking about family… their nieces and nephews… She stated quite clearly: “I have no nieces.”

One of our friends was horrified and asked about me.

My aunt never responded.

Now… I’ve watched “Paternity Court” before, and felt terrible for all of the adults on the show that lived with paternity doubt, but realized… that I was just like them. My mother couldn’t speak for herself. She and my maternal grandmother had mentioned there being a possibility of me being someone else’s kid. So I knew that much.

The knowledge was painful.

Knowing that it was a sticking point, my aunt dug her talons in and started to tear at me. Over and over. And over.

For years, I endured this torment, but her voicing that to a group of friends on a public forum bothered me so much that I announced to my father one day as I was heading to the pharmacy—that I was picking up a paternity test for us to do.

Then… he dropped the bombshell that he already knew he wasn’t my father.

And when he said that… it all clicked in place. My aunt has hated my mother for years… and I do mean hate. She even suggested I dump my mother’s ashes in a field somewhere or in the water somewhere. I told her that legally, I couldn’t do it. She’d told me before that if it was up to her, she would dump my mother’s ashes in the woods…

So… I figured out that my aunt knew this and has done this to me for years because it was a way to get back at my mother.

Contradictions: My mother is homely. I look like my mother (and my mother is homely, right? So, I must be unattractive too.) Then, suddenly I look like my aunt. However, my aunt actually was the homely one out of the two of them. Her personality made her very ugly.

• Reality: I look like my mother, but also my aunt. I also sound exactly like my aunt did 30+ years ago.

Competition: For some reason assumed I would be angry about having smaller breasts and bragged that she didn’t know where I got my cup size. Why on earth would someone’s aunt do that to them?!

Competition #2: Begging to know my IQ. Told me that it was fine because she knew it was lower than hers. I told her that it was lower and to just drop it, but she kept asking for the number. I gave it to her and she said that it had obviously dropped with age. I asked her if she understood how intelligence worked. She started to bring up mistakes I made, and I explained to her that my brain works differently than hers. It doesn’t mean I can’t make mistakes. FYI, my IQ is 60 points higher than hers. Ugh… Whateva!

Cruelty: … We’ll get to that shortly.

Denial: I can’t be related because… “I have the wrong blood type,” “I am lactose intolerant.” Well… I actually have the correct blood type, and I am not lactose intolerant. That last one, she claimed that absolutely no one on either side of her family had lactose intolerance… but I did. When I told her that I most certainly did not have issues with lactose, she said: “Huh. Maybe you are related.”

I told my dad I was still getting the test. He told me that it would prove he was 100% not my father. Then, he dropped an even bigger bombshell… That he doubted he had any children at all.

There are three of us. My brother was the oldest, then my sister and then me.

When I told a friend, she was shocked and voiced how terrible that was.

Dad told me he felt bad because he’d been holding on to that secret all my life. He also said that with my health getting worse, I would likely be looking for answers, and he wasn’t looking forward to sharing that knowledge with me.

I confronted my aunt about her terrible behavior towards me. Named one of the friends in the Zoom. She called our mutual friend and dragged me into a three-way call. The friend was sympathetic, understanding why having someone you love repeatedly saying over the years that they weren’t sure you were related… it can grate on your nerves. My aunt still said that if it was her, she wouldn’t care nearly as much as I do.

My aunt wouldn’t care because she really does not care about me at all. Or my feelings. Well… that’s not true. She likes to hurt my feelings.

Before this call, she’d said: “Well, I still have your sister.”

To which I said: “Dad said he doesn’t think he has any children from his own body.”

I think that one broke her just a smidgeon.

Whoops. No nieces, no nephew either.

So… I went and got the test done, paid the fees and everything out of what savings I have and mailed it in.

I got my results on Tuesday. It said that there was a 99.999996% probability that he was my father.

Can’t get more positive for me. I called him and told him that even if he didn’t have any other children, he had least had me. I told him that I hadn’t spoken to his sister, but he could if he wanted. And if he didn’t want to, he didn’t need to.

Dad tried to play it off at first, but I could tell how giddy and happy he was. Took 3 tries to get him off the phone, and he told me he was going to make some coffee.

At 5PM. In the evening. ~_~

He did tell his sister. And the way I found out was because at 12:44AM Wednesday morning, I got a phone call from her. (Yes, I have the call logged time.)

Here is where the cruelty is…

She informed me that dad told her I’d received the results and wanted to know what it said. I was blunt with her and asked what she wanted the test to say.

Mind, it’s after midnight and out of everything someone could call for, it’s for the results of a paternity test.

So, I told her the result. Only for her to tell me that my dad had already told her, but she just wanted to see what I would say.

…

Let’s let that sink in. She was likely hoping that I’d been dishonest about the test results. She once again said that she always thought that maybe I was her niece. And I told her: “You sound disappointed.” I also let her knew that when she said what she did, another of our friends heard her.

To which she said: “Well, you know she forgets.” I asked my aunt if she understood what forgetting was. When you forget something, you have no memory of it. You don’t generate new memories. I suggested that she call this other friend of ours and she said: “Maybe I will!” But I already knew she wouldn’t.

She’s a coward.

When I went to get off the phone, she said that she was happy about the news because she’d been so worried about me since I had my surgery.

Now, last year, I had two strokes. Two of them.

What she was pointing at was my hysterectomy, something that I’m just starting to come to terms with. She knew how much it hurt me mentally and emotionally. I guess she was trying to get her shots in since she couldn’t use my paternity as a weapon anymore.

I told her that I assumed at first… she meant the strokes I had the year before.

Then she went off talking about how sad it was that my mother never lived to find out the results.

My mother died unexpectedly the same year I had my hysterectomy.

… All of that was within the span of 13 minutes.

Just how evil can one person be?

I did not sleep well at all after that and later that morning… I did not feel well either. I texted a friend to call me after she was off her meeting because I needed to talk to her. My blood pressure had spiked to 144/96. When it had been 124/73 a few days prior.

My friend left her meeting temporarily to talk to me.

And we had a nice long conversation.

And she expressed how frustrating it was. She’s known my aunt for years, and was still shocked at what I told her about the call.

You see, my aunt and I have a lot in common. One is high intellect. I like learning and absorbing things. The difference comes in what is done with that information. My aunt tries to steamroll AND gaslight people, and I just share what I know.

My aunt would be classified as: Being so smart that she’s stupid.

A different friend called me on Wednesday and was bluntly honest with me. I love that and need that. Both of these two women (this one and the one that left her meeting) have been some of the most precious people in my life. She told me not to give my aunt anything she could use against me.

I told her that I felt my aunt was trying to force me to have another stroke. If something bad had happened to me, she could have used that to hurt my father.

She still brings up my brother’s death and he died over 30 years ago. She weaponizes it, telling my dad: “At least my son is alive, but yours is dead!”

What makes that particularly vile is that my brother committed suicide… while looking our dad in the eyes.

Oh, and she’s also told her intellectually challenged son that he’s stupid. She’s also told him he acted like he was retarded. He expressed frustration in dealing with her.

However, his personality has completely twisted due to her treatment. I don’t really know who he is anymore. Aside from being impulsively aggressive.

Before this last friend called, I thought and prayed to have the right words. So, what I texted my aunt was this (mind, some info removed for privacy reasons):

“[name], I care for you. I love you, but I’m going to have to minimize contact with you. It’s not because I don’t care. It’s because what you did this morning and how you behaved hurt me. And you know it did. I have asked you before to avoid doing that, in consideration of the two strokes I had last year.

But you did not care. And it’s frustrating that you called with plans to do what you did. So early in the morning. And it’s very sad.

I’ll say hello in [location] if you’re with us, and that’s it. You have already threatened to not tell me if something happened to my father, and I can’t change that if you choose to do so.

For the sake of my mental and physical health, I am going to have to put my foot down with this.

And you might try to claim that everything I said was inaccurate, but it is not my memory that should be considered. I was not the only person in that discussion.

Please, do not call me. If I can’t reach my father when I’m trying to, I will wait in the future and leave you be.

~[my actual first name]”

The overall effect of this? After talking to my friends and my dad (assuring him that while I enjoy drama, I do not like to live drama), I had a doctor’s appointment on Thursday morning.

Same time of day as before when the BP was terrible, but the blood pressure Thursday?

118/76.

A healthy number and in the range of what I want to keep.

So, peaceful and relaxed conditions… With me, my writing, my pets and my friends.

And my father too.

….

I just realized how long this blog post is.

Doggone it! I could have had more written in NtC!

~J. Lyst

This was more important though.