“Your brother, this is the older adult one in his 40s????????” – my therapist, 2026.
I thought I would come back at some point to tell you part 2 of what happened on 9/11/01, but my “family” somehow managed to get more fucking whack in the meantime. Had I not started this writing, a place to put my words and feelings… maybe you wouldn’t believe me. I wouldn’t believe me.
Shortly after my last post, I wrote (literally) my aunt off for good. Like sent a letter in the mail to kick rocks (nicely) along with most of the broader family that don’t bother to speak to me anyways. I happened to find a blocked voicemail from my birthday on May 2 (if you have an Apple, you know how that happens) that shook me to my core. People that use you for gossip really hate when you cut them off. It’s weird when they all of a sudden care, 44 years in, that you have a birthday… I don’t know if she thinks I am an idiot, but I’m smarter than the two of my Aunts and my other female cousin combined. They spent their lives attached to stupid men that don’t give a fuck about them, and raised children in environments that are absolutely unfit for young minds. I remember my cousin being UNDER AGE when she met her husband – WHO WAS MID 20s I THINK!!!!!!! – and my aunt having no problem with this. Fucking disgusting, all of them. I’ll be damned if I end up some piece of gossip, along with my children, at their shitty Thanksgiving dumpy table, thinking ANY of them have got a thing on me. Fuck that.
My instincts have been so strong lately. A rumbling in my body. I’ve told NOBODY this. Not even my husband, he’s going to read it here, probably. I was on instagram and I was on my mother’s instagram page when the funeral home tried to reach me. I was really upset because I had to protect my kids from my mother, mainly my oldest, from her manipulative bullshit. Think like an old lady texting a 6 year old’s ipad “Grandma loves you, does your mom not want you talking to me??” Ignoring the fact one of the last times she was allowed around my kids, she got fucking wasted, started crying about what a much better mother I am.
And I am.
I was then, I am now, and if you are applauding, please don’t. The bar for both my mother and my father is in hell. Turns out, it’s not hard to parent when you actually want to be a mother or father vs just wanting a child. Very different journey, IMO. And it all kind of swirls around emotional maturity. Cindy, Charles, most of the extended Thomas family I’ve had the “pleasure” of observing and being part of, boils down to lack of emotional maturity and acumen.
I should have been less surprised when the funeral home called me. I actually need to make a formal complaint on this place still….TBD… I eventually learn it’s the same place they took Uncle John, and they are trying to coerce me to sign something to have my mother cremated.
I should post my brother’s text messages. I stopped engaging with them years ago during COVID, but it was really when he brought his fucking crybaby family drama to my daycare of many years, when he decided to enroll his children there. When I said something to him (rightly so) – he became defensive and angry. told me not to speak to his daughter or something insane because I DARED TO SET A VERY HEALTHY ADULT BOUNDARY. A hallmark of someone that does not think they need to be accountable for their own shitty actions. So I just… don’t talk to them. I don’t miss them, I don’t think about what their lives are like and if they are happy. I don’t miss or want to know my nieces, because I know what they will grow up to be, and my heart hurts for them. They truly have a father that should be in intense therapy….and this is going really demonstrate how little everyone has grown up. His wife does not have a mind of her own, I watched my brother bully the little she had from leaving a Jehovah family, right out of her. I am not sure he even likes his wife at all. This, to me, is such a trademark of the Thomas women. Married to men that fucking do not like them, but depend on their labor. Gross.
So, my mom died. I don’t know how. I wasn’t surprised, but I was shocked that they let me find out from the funeral home they apparently now have a punch card at to burn up the bodies. I don’t know how any of these freaks sleep at night.
So after I was blindsided, lied to by the funeral home and brother about my “legal obligations” (my brother legit said it this way. The law DOES NOT WORK THAT WAY – it is legal or it is NOT) my brother already drummed up that this was my fault, like he had no choice. Maybe it’s just me, but I feel like death commands a certain kind of respect. Would it have killed him to text me or my husband and be like “Hey know we haven’t chatted, but I would like to speak to you about something important”.
But I am expecting that because I grew up. That’s what I would do, as a grown up. Instead, again, I was left to defend my very normal, healthy boundaries and ended up having to talk to an attorney, to confirm I was correct. I have 2 degrees in criminal justice and I actually graduated from Paralegal school, but you know… Charlie always been much smarter than me :)
My therapist and I dissected so much of the communication, I just remember her mouth falling open, expecting this to be the work of my much younger half-brother (24 y/o).
Ya know, same. TBH. I gave Charlie what he needed to get the next parts over with from the estate, she had no will, and that’s why he needs me. Which is why he and the funeral home tried to strong arm me, blame me for my reaction to their shit, and make himself the victim once again.
I’ve stopped feeling bad, though. I don’t feel bad for him now. I didn’t then. It takes a strong person to see your parents for what they really are, and strong, he will never be. He and my dad are weak cowards, with no ability to communicate effectively; use manipulation and silence to “win” arguments, instead of trying to understand the person they are talking to. They think everything is an argument, because that’s how emotionally immature people see the world. I know. I fight every day to escape that box.
As for Cindi. If anyone hears this message…women, girls. You don’t need to be a mother if you do not want to. You do not have to marry the first asshole to pretend to be nice to you. Learn to love yourself before you love anyone else. She died a pretty tragic, cautionary tale. Bye, mom. I am sorry you being gone feels like relief for me. Forgive me.
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