Visitors

I wrote a couple weeks ago (not sure exactly how long and I'm too lazy to go look it up) about my parents heading this direction for a visit.

They visited my cousin Bigot and his wife, Bigette and all the little Biggles up in Washougal. Biggle #1 was graduating from high school and Biggle #2 from 8th grade. There are two other Biggles. The youngest is a boy, aged 12.

They're very controlling, the Bigots. They don't want their children to be exposed to all the scary things out there. Television news, for example. My mom had to have Bigette fix the remote for her, as the parental controls were on. Mom likes to watch the news. I'm sure it won't surprise you to learn she enjoys Fox News most of all.

Anyway, the kids were raised ultra-religious. One of the things Bigot said to his sister, my other cousin, when he informed her that she wasn't allowed to visit anymore was that he 'had to protect his children' from people like her.

I'm not sure what sort of threat a middle aged lesbian presents, but whatever it was, the kids are safe from her. She hasn't been allowed around them for a long time.

The oldest Biggle is a boy, aged 18. He is joining the army. Headed for officer's training school, apparently. He hasn't been away from home before. I'm sure it will be quite informative for him.

The other three Biggles will eventually leave home, too. And all the gaps in their education will be filled in.

I'm not sure keeping information away from them will have its intended consequence, everyone knows about the preacher's kid in school, right? My own religious upbringing kept me from learning quite a few things, too. Although I caught up once I realized there was a larger world out there.

My parents, Mom in particular, were quite impressed with how Bigette runs such a tight ship. The kids are 'trained' (Mom's words, handed directly to her from Bigette) to clean the entire house, top to bottom once a week, every week.

They were allowed to skip their Saturday chores during graduation week, but they were 'definitely going to do their chores or else' on Monday. So speaketh Bigette. So believeth my mom.

I endeavored to keep a straight face and not get drawn into arguments about the kids and how they were raised and what the whole family believes. I tried. I did.

It's their thing, and it's what they think is right for their family and their children. I raised mine, let them deal with raising theirs.

But when my mom started asking me pointed questions and despite my evasive answers still wanted to know why I hadn't wanted to attend all the festivities, I told her.

"I figure that if my entire family isn't welcome somewhere, then I'm not interested in being there, either."

First, she tried to act like she wasn't sure what I was talking about.

And my dad said, "Who's not welcome? Huh? Huh?" He thinks he's funny, my dad. And even when he knows it's not funny, that it's offensive or upsetting, he does it anyway.

So I said, "The Bigots are afraid of gay people. They were afraid that Denette was going to corrupt or molest their children, I'm not sure which, but they hurt her feelings and told her she was no longer welcome there. Treating his only sister and his mother the way he's treated them is disgusting. I just don't want to be around people like them. Using religion as an excuse to be an asshole makes me sad and angry. That's all."

My dad laughed.
Again, "Who's not welcome? huh?? huh??!?"
Because he reacts inappropriately to things. I'm accustomed to it, unfortunately.

I spent a great deal of the time we were together trying to ignore his behaviors. He's aggravating and annoying on purpose. If he senses that something he's doing is making someone upset, he redoubles his efforts. The more pissed off and/or worked up a person looks or *is*, the better.

He'll get a word or phrase in his head and like a 2 year old who just likes the feeling of a word in their mouth, he will repeat it or I-swear-to-whatever sing it. Over and over and over and over until people either get angry and call him on it, which makes him laugh that obnoxious 'heh heh heh' and do it even louder until people either get up and walk out on him or ignore him so much that he changes. Usually to something else just as obnoxious.

He's also full of false bravado. He went through a martial arts phase many years ago, saying, every time he visited our big, bad city, "I showed him my taser and he gave up on stealing your mother's purse. I woulda knocked his head off and shit down his windpipe."

It's completely crazy to spend time around him. Particularly bad when he's been forced to maintain and be 'good' for any length of time, as in the last week when he spent the week with the Bigots up the road.

He knows he isn't quite right, and can hide it pretty well, but eventually he gets cracks in his facade and the I'm-going-to-be-obnoxious guy peeks out.

In the reading I've done and the talking to certain medical/mental health professionals, he presents symptoms of several things, among them Asperger's.
I know he's not okay.
That doesn't help much.

His current do-my-best-to-piss-off-everyone-in-a-5-mile-radius schtick is Alzheimer's. He says something or is reminded of something by someone and pretends he has no idea what they're talking about. "Heh heh heh, that's the Alzheimer's kicking in. Heh Heh heh."

It's partcularly cruel to my mother, who doesn't find dementia in elderly people the least bit humorous. Her mother, my grandmother, was confined in a care home for more than 16 years with dementia. Little bits of her kept slipping away until all that was left was an incredibly healthy exterior. It was awful, but my dad, who's been jealous of my grandparents one day and gloating about how 'they died pennaless*' the next thinks joking about it is the height of wit.

*I know that word is spelled incorrectly... that's how my dad says it. With great relish.

I know he's mentally ill, and I don't blame him for it. I'm not angry with him anymore, either. But I know that being around him isn't good for my mental health, so I avoid it when I can. It makes me sad, they are my parents and I love them. They're not bad people, and they love their family. Even though I know I'm a terrible disappointment to them, they still love me. They've been good grandparents to my children. My dad would do anything at all to help his family, and has a generous spirit underneath all the crazy.

But it causes me a great deal of anxiety to be around them, and in the days leading up to a visit, I end up feeling upset, angry, emotional, up and down and up and down and up and down... It's not a good place to be.

I've tried talking to them about all of this before, by the way.

I appreciate the fact that I have the most supportive husband in the world. And that he understands my upset. He helps me get through a visit and sort out my feelings about it over the next few weeks or so. Listens to me patiently, offers his thoughts on the topic, and life goes on.

Until the next time.