At some point, you realize that the barbs aren’t meant for you personally. That the sting of accusations and passive-aggressiveness and whispered “I heard that” isn’t personal. It’s brain chemistry gone awry, trying to make sense of what ceased to do so a while ago. Neurons firing but not connecting, synapses blown through overwork or misuse or circumstance.

I got roundly attacked by a relative recently, and I was hurt and confused. A huge block of text delivered to my phone, stating that, in so many words, that not only was I a shit person, but I’ve BEEN a shit person for a while, and even though my mother has defended me in rooms I’m not in, she’s wrong too, because I wasn’t shit, am not currently shit, and won’t be shit in any future.

Taken as a one-off, the still river proves deep. I was forced to examine my interactions and history; had I done something I didn’t remember? Was some machination taken the wrong way?

But the abuse continued to other targets, and my incident wasn’t isolated anymore. Lashing out, bringing up old incidents, reopening old wounds. Suddenly, my situation wasn’t viewed as an isolated incident, but a pattern. A new pattern this family member had gone to where no one was safe and everyone was an enemy. Old slights were magnified. Outright lies were pushed, and this family member is, as of this writing, estranged from most o the family and writing huge text missives about how and why they feel all alone and no one understands and they feel burdened and have to do everything while making up situations where this wasn’t true in the first place.

But we watch, not out of fascination, but wondering how long a firework can go off, spewing sparks on all and sundry, finally giving way to becoming an inert husk. How long does this go on? Who else gets hurt?

Guess we’ll see.