References to The Addams Family sitcom happened at least once a week when I was a kid. Given the fact that I have more hair than a yak and wore glasses as a child, I was often called “Cousin Itt.” In fact, if I flipped my hair over my face and put my glasses on, I was a dead ringer for Itt.
I’m not Itt anymore, though. I’m Uncle Fester. Because after I read some of the anonymous comments by my readers, I’m angry enough that I could stick a lightbulb in my mouth and illuminate the inside of an orangutang.
The biggest charge for me is the suggestion that, until I change my behavior and my attitude, I don’t deserve to be loved. It’s funny, but I remember holding each one of my children for the first time and thinking I loved them just because they were mine. Perfectionism – thinking I had to be perfect in order to earn love – caused me considerable heartache. I gave it up, and I like myself a whole lot better now. If anyone else decides to love me, that’s the double stuff in my Oreo.
The same person told me to stop complaining about my divorce and just “tough it,” while expressing sympathy for my brother because he was “betrayed by his brother-in-law.” Let me tell you something: my brother didn’t have to be tested for HIV, herpes, chlamydia, genital warts, syphilis, gonorrhea, hepatitis, crabs, scabies, and the general skank crud because my husband betrayed him. I did. So save your “he was betrayed” sympathy for him; he doesn’t want it.
Another person questions whether or not I’m even a Christian because my “frequent rants” don’t reflect Christ or His command to love our enemies.
My answer is also my favorite line from Mary Poppins: “I never explain anything.” The reason? Because it’s a stupid question.
I understand that because I grew up in a preacher’s family people expect certain things from me. But I’m not a preacher’s kid any longer, and my blog has nothing to do with my brother’s church. Sure, people from the church read it, and that’s wonderful. I welcome all readers regardless of race, creed, color, religion, national origin, sex, or Facebook status. But I’m writing to entertain. Not to enlighten, preach, teach, or be an example. If you’re entertained, I’ve done my job. If you’re pissed, please, please, please leave a comment! I’ll respond after I’ve let it fester a while.
