I've been typing for hours now, trying to put down some thoughts. Some rather unpleasant thoughts at that.
This is about people I know in real life, not anyone I met through the blogosphere.
The short and sweet is that some people I thought were close friends, and some relatives I liked, are not very nice people. They don't even know about the pregnancy yet, and I've just realized that they live for schadenfreude, literally pleasure in seeing other people's misfortune, and are very very unhappy now, because my life is going well, and I am feeling content and happy to a degree. And this doesn't fit their script very well.
I was always the one with bad things to report, family tragedies, injuries, money problems, health issues, and they were always so quick to relish in every detail, to endlessly yet subtlely blame me for every event. Somehow, I must be at fault right? Marked by fate to suffer. Cluck, cluck, cluck. And they were always the ones to rush in and save me and offer a shoulder to cry on, a solution for my pain. Always there, always secretly glad that they were not the ones to suffer, that somehow I was balancing out their cosmic happiness. And as long as I was living in hell, that would ensure their lives would be perfect and happy, at least in their warped little minds.
I think I deserve some happiness in life and not just because of this pregnancy, but in general, and things have been going well for awhile for me, which is an amazing and wonderful turn of events. But I guess they don't think I should be happy, if their behaviour last week on the phone was any example, or if their behaviour at Thanksgiving dinner was to be observed.
Hmmmm, maybe that's just too accusatory, instead, maybe me doing well is all so bizarre and difficult for them to cope with, that they can't handle it. You know that old saying, we aren't attracted towards the things that will make us happy, we go for the things we are used to? Well, here's hoping they can find a way to change what they are used to, because one more stupid thing out of their mouths, and I just might scream. Really.
Examples? A relative of mine at dinner was incredibly bitchy the second she figured out that we were getting new furniture. Or maybe she was just angry that Mr.Cotta and I were getting along better than her and her husband, or pissed that my kids go to private school and hers go to public. (She can afford to send them to private, but has had a prejudice for years about it. It's now a problem since she may need to send them to private, but has been on this pedestal for so long, she can't climb down. I personally don't care about the issue, I think families make choices based on individual kids, but she thinks the public system is morally superior. Note: she went to a private school herself, *eyeroll*)
Another example: A friend was on the phone with me when I got an email detailing Mr.Cotta's quarterly bonus. I was so happy, I told her about it. This particular friend has had way way more money than us for years, and expects a big inheritance, which she has told me about many times. We were always happy for her and her family. Even when we were broke, I never said anything but, "Wow, that's fabulous!". But when I mentioned a decent bonus cheque? The phone line dripped with icy bitterness. You'd think it had come directly out her own pocket.
I dread telling these people about this pregnancy or eventually about a live baby because in the end, I will either have bad news to tell, and it will just feed their schadenfreude personalities, or it will be good news and they will find a way to be nasty and stupid and spoil my joy. And since we are either related or have mutual friends, it's pretty hard to cut them out completely.
And it isn't everyone. Most people are lovely and kind, and I want to shout about this pregnancy to the rooftops with them. I want to be bathed in their positive kindness. Everyone out here on the net has been great, and most people in real life will be the same.
I just wish I could stick these few jackasses in soundproof glass bubbles and send them to Mars, or therapy, or secretly slip them antidepressants.
Any advice? Help?