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Up on Cripple Creek
I don't have to speak, she defends me.
About 25 days ago, I ended my relationship with my aunt. My wife wanted me to, but I am a creature of compassion, most times. This was family. Blood being thicker than water, what? She let me know that she really wanted to be done with her, but left it up to me.
Backstory. This woman is close in age to me, but while we were close in age, we were never close as children. She lived at our house supported by my parents, coddled, even. While there, she had no time for me, and certainly would make my life miserable if it were in her power. Decades later, she let me know she was hoping to move back to where we grew up (many states away) and asked if she could stay with us while she got her bearings. She forgot to mention she was (still) an emotional cripple and had a beater car and massive debt.
The few weeks that we expected turned into months, until my new baby needed his room, and we asked her to leave. She had taken an extremely low paying job and cried poverty, so (we were strapped, too) we borrowed some thousands from family and gave it to her to help her move out. She took it, resentfully, and left. But stayed in touch, and we have played her emotional games for the last decade or so.
Again she was going to be homeless, so we took her in. This time for 9 months, because another child was away at college. Again, we had to ask her to leave in time for our child to return for the summer. It was an emotionally fraught process, because talking to her with any degree of specificity was always seen as an attack, and she was a master of emotional blackmail. If you challenged her, she would make you pay with an anxiety attack of tsunami proportions.
Finally, she left, and had no thanks for my wife on the way out. Just "see you next week". My wife, who took this morose, contrary, emotionally poisoned relative of mine in and made our family tiptoe around her shattered psyche while she tried to find work, got no thanks. Not a word, not a note. (yes, she had a job for months when she left and had resources).
So my wife said she would be fine if we never saw her again. It took me two days to write that email. Before giving myself fully to my wife, I couldn't deal with emotional confrontation, and I would endlessly put myself out there for the people in my life.
But I made the leap. I just ... trusted in her.
This was before this blog started, although I truly believe it is the genesis of our current situation. She said, "just leap, and I will catch you." So I leapt. I sent the email. My aunt called twice (didn't answer) then responded to the email. I talked to my wife, and she told me what to write in response, a housekeeping message that didn't even give a nod to any of her epic-length response to my email.
Again, I trusted in her. And it was the perfect path. I had felt free, like a weight lifted from my shoulders. No more awkward Christmases forcing my whole family to do what my Aunt wanted. No more dealing with her cooking proclivities (an addiction-level problem). None of it. It was like finding out you would never have jury duty, traffic tickets, a tax bill, or anything like that ever again. No more DMV for life. Plus instantly losing about half the weight you want to lose.
I didn't put two and two together at the time, but it was certainly this series of events that served as a catalyst for me to start seriously thinking about FLR. Fast forward to today, when I was out with our youngest all day. And a letter came from her.
My wife opened it. I asked her if it would be okay if I didn't read it, and she said something along the lines of:
"That is the deal, baby. You DON'T have to read it. You DON'T have to answer it. You DON'T have to do anything at all about this. I will take care of it completely. It is my job to handle this."
And handle it she did. She shared what details I would think were funny, but stopped when I was clearly in a state of discomfort. She has me in her arms, protecting and caring for me, making the big decisions, and dealing with the fallout.
I don't have to speak.
She defends me.
