I think I lose a little bit of my religion whenever I think about my grandmother. It's hard not to hate her. I'm not an evil or hateful person by nature, but she was before she became feeble and forgetful. I sometimes wonder what kind of person I would be today if my parents hadn't died and left me and my sister to our maternal grandmother. In learning that depression and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder don't just happen over night and that it takes years of verbal and emotional abuse at the hands of a cold hearted woman with a sixth grade education. This coupled with the trauma of losing my mother and a week later losing my father on my 12th birthday equal me, today, with anxiety and OCD. The depression I'm no longer claiming, thanks to my relationship with God.
I've always been a fair hearted person. I believe that people should be treated the way you expect to be treated in return. I guess after years of being treated unfairly at the hands of my grandmother, I'm a stickler for being fair. Now, she has Alzheimer's and she doesn't behave the way she used to when I was younger but I loathe her all he same.
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