Nope

 (This is a photo of my grandfather with my father and my aunt.)

I have a confession to make, sort of.  I am not going to call my aunt.  This is a factual statement and not a confession, because I’m not sorry that I’m not going to call her and I don’t intend to repent of my decision.

 

To some extent, I feel guilty about this.  My aunt is in her eighties, lives alone in Section 8 housing, has no family nearby, and can’t see the few friends she has due to the pandemic.  Until recently, I was the only family member who ever had any contact with her.  It would be kind to give her another human to speak to.

 

Except.

 

It would not be kind to me.

 

When I was a little girl, we didn’t see her that much because she lived in Illinois and we were in California.  When we did see her, I thought she was glamorous and fun.  She wore hoop earrings, talked about astrology, and brought me a psychedelic-colored stuffed alligator toy.  Once when we visited her and my grandmother, she let me play with her jewelry box, crammed with brightly colored costume necklaces.  Later on, my very conservative mother was not sure that it was appropriate to take my brother and me to the apartment where she was “living in sin” with her boyfriend.  We ended up going and it was kind of a let down; her boyfriend gave us Mountain Dew and teased that it was alligator piss, but that was the most exciting thing about the whole day.

 

Looking back, she definitely did things her own way.  She was pretty and spoiled, raised to be married.  She never held a job.  She delights in typing cryptic missives on her manual typewriter.  She loved flirting and even now will focus her considerable charm on any man in the room.  She makes her way in the world through, essentially, manipulation.

 

When she first moved into the place she’s living now, I felt sorry for her.  I went to visit.  I dragged the rest of the family along sometimes.  I’d buy her some groceries, take her to lunch.  She didn’t drive, so I’d help her with errands from time to time—not that often because she lived more than an hour away.  I enjoyed her stories.

 

The thing is, she was always working an angle.  She complained about how hot it was in her place, so Brent and I got her a portable air conditioner.  She turned around and returned it for cash.  Same with the walking shoes.  Whatever I did, it wasn’t enough or often enough or whatever.

 

I make no secret that I have issues with depression.  When my depression is bad, one of the things that is particularly hard for me is talking on the phone.  I explained this to her and said that I could send her notes, but I wasn’t going to call.  She called anyway.  When I didn’t call back, she would call Brent or get the admin at her apartment to email me.  She didn’t respect my boundaries.

 

Now, lots of people in my life have failed to respect my boundaries.  I’m not exactly the world’s greatest enforcer of my personal space and preferences.  It is only too easy for me to succumb to the guilt of disappointing someone.  Fine.  But apparently I have decided that her particular manipulations are not going to work on me.  I will deal with her on my own terms.

 

And I don’t think my terms are that horrible.  I send her cards and gifts on her birthday and Christmas.  Every once in a while, I drop her another note.  But I have chosen to keep her at a distance.

 

Since I moved, I sent her a change of address note.  She called and left me a message.  I called her back and did not reach her (she has no answering machine).  I dropped her a note to that effect.  She left me another message.  I sent her Christmas package.  My mom, who has been talking to her more lately because she is realizing life is short after my uncle’s recent passing, called to say that my aunt wants me to call.  (My mom totally gets why I’m not doing it.)  Then I got a text from one of the staff at my aunt’s place.  I texted back that I sent another note.  This is the line:  I will not call.

 

It’s petty.  A better person than I am would just suck it up and call.  It isn’t that big a deal.  And yet it is.  I am tired of my no not being respected.  And maybe this one place where I am letting my no be no will help with all the other places.