I’m Obviously Wrong to Send Christmas Cards to Five-Year-Olds

I am probably a completely irrational person, but I feel so angry and guilty I can barely keep it in right now. The whole thing started with Christmas cards, believe it or not.

I sent a card to my cousin's stepdaughter, and put her biological father's last name on it. I got back an email from him that was judicious, but made it clear that he and his wife were pissed about the use of the last name – don't want her to ask about the biological father, don't want her to know about the biological father, and so on. That's their prerogative, and I wrote back saying that I'm perfectly cool with using his or her last name. But I said that I have three last names written next to her first name, and I really have to think about what one is wanted whenever I send something, because they've never made preferences known. But now I know, and I can at least scribble that name out of my address book.

Then I got to thinking about it, and, you know, if they'd made their preferences clear from the get-go, this wouldn't have been an issue. He said to use his last name, and I know I've been sending things under his wife's last name, and they've not said anything. I don't know her that well, and I'm pretty sure I just spaced on which name was hers. The more I've been thinking about it, the more angry I get – this is a situation where, if they'd made their preferences known when they got married, it wouldn't be an issue.

And today, I got to thinking that I do a lot more support of them than they do of me. I've been having some real medical issues, and the only person on that side of the family who's even contacted me is my grandmother. I don't get anything from my aunt and uncle, and I don't get anything from him or his brother. I'm so sick of trying to be nice and kind and not being treated the same way in return. I'm really tempted to feign sickness over Christmas to avoid these asses. Which isn't fair; they aren't really asses. They're thoughtless and rather selfish, but not asses. I'm sick of trying to do nice things and getting shat on for doing them.

Well, I think I've just come to a realization. If they would rather not get cards with the wrong name on them, then I'll just not send cards. At all. Fair enough? I think so. Fuck it.

They never did anything when I was first severely ill, either. I was close to death, and the only one who did anything was my grandmother. Well, and her niece and her husband. They're great people. I'm sick of feeling like I'm alone in the world. It's hard enough being away in a different state from my parents, and this has really made me realize that I can't rely on those people to feel anything for me. They're concerned with their own lives, which, okay, they should be. But I already know that I won't get cards from them for Christmas, and I won't get birthday cards, either. Jesus, I hate these people. I wish I had someone I could share this stuff with.

Oh, and happy birthday, Dad. I hope Brooke comes home.