Alas, I can't post this on her page as she blocked me from doing so. Feel free to share with her, as I wanted to and cannot...
I wouldn't be as angry about the health-related post sans consent, except that it begins with a lie. It's also poor writing that doesn't reference anything in the post except, perhaps, an author's need to make her martyred presence known.
My mother's sister Marcia decided to post about my mother on her birthday.
When Marcia wrote that "Despite the fact (sic) that she suffered most of her life with depression..." this is NOT "the fact" -- according to my mom's doctor,
Accuracy: I went to every doctor's appointment with my mother for over a decade; Mom didn't edit the conversations so I wouldn't worry. It's part of the annual physical, and her doctor is more thorough than a "Yes/No" response, especially during the period Mom cared for her sick husband. I was in the room, I took part in the discussions, and I know that Dr. H. was satisfied.
By Marcia's adding that unnecessary third sentence, she negated the integrity of what might have been an otherwise nice post.
Marcia skipped the part where Mom's doctor, who saw her regularly (more often than Marcia did) and stayed in touch in between visits, disagrees with Marcia's diagnosis of my mom's "depression."
Marcia skipped the part where, when I pointed this out in our final conversation, she responded that, "Well, her doctor didn't know her" (!) even though Dr. H. cared enough to visit Mom in the hospital (ahem). On Dr. H's own time and not as her treating physician, if I may add.
Marcia skipped the part where she's not informed, nor capable - legally, medically, or morally - of diagnosing anyone.
I'm not sure what rule of consent applies when posting fiction about someone else's mental health status. I mean, Marcia's not sharing my mother's actual mental health status, just her own desire to boost her status as a martyred sister and sister-in-law.
"In incredibly poor taste" is, unfortunately, the case.
As I said, my mother saw her doctor on an ongoing basis, and the doctor checked in via phone between visits because of other health issues I'm not going to share (Mom's not here to consent). My mother was human and sometimes depressed by circumstances (including but not limited to her chronically ill husband, her kids' and friends' illnesses, her sister...) but clearly did NOT suffer with depression.
To Marcia:
IF YOU KNEW my mother at all, you might remember that my parents were private people. My mother didn't even use her own name in her journal! (Many of her friends still reference her by her screen name.) If she didn't believe in the importance of breast exams and mammograms, she might not have posted about having breast cancer (and even then, she waited until she was in remission so she wouldn't be in anyone's spotlight). IF my mother had lived with depression, she would have been horrified - and I'm not using the word lightly - by your post.
IF YOU KNEW my mother at all, you would have gone to her funeral. Don't give me that load of bull about getting stuck in traffic; other people from your community made it - even arriving early. Her former coworkers were there. People who had farther to travel were there: Mom's family AND extended family AND friends from out of state were there. My dad needed a wheelchair and a medical escort, and he made it to her funeral. YOU did not. It would have mattered to her, and your absence would have hurt her. Which you would know if you knew her.
I'm not projecting my feelings, just sharing the obvious.
I told you (08/14/2022; 12/22/2022) that your ongoing lies about my parents are hurtful because they're not here to defend themselves. Say what you will - and I'm sure you will! - about every other relative, extended relative, and friend you have, but leave my parents out of it. (You do it all the time - and I ask you to remember, Gentle Readers, that when she offers "insight" about people behind their backs to you, she's doing the same, about you, to someone else.)
Your martyred - and I'm utilizing the word again, as a tool - post is insensitive, and incorrect.
I received a screenshot of your post on Mom's birthday. After Andee and I went to the cemetery where your parents are buried, we shared a lovely meal at Tabouli Grill in Mom's memory. I can kick myself for considering asking you to join us; and I commend myself for talking myself out of it.
My comment should have no bearing on anyone's opinion of my mental health (upon which I am sure Marcia will have plenty to embellish - and remember, she doesn't have my permission to discuss my health). Rather, it should strengthen anyone's opinion of how I will fight for my parents.
My mom taught us to never let a bully win.
As I have told Marcia (most recently, 12/22/2022), perhaps she should stop the damned armchair diagnoses of her siblings, keep in mind that their alleged mental illness and dementia run in families, and then maybe see someone about her own mental status.
She was raised with a little more class than this. My grandparents would be embarrassed.
NOTE: I cut Marcia out of my life because she continues to insist she knows everything about my mother's mental health and lack of parenting skills (really - I'll tell you more if you want). There are only two people in the world who are safe from her vitriol and, if you're reading this, you're probably not one of them.
When I told her during an August 2022 phone call (which she initiated, after ghosting me for about nine months) that her comments are hurtful, she said she didn't care. I told her I couldn't talk to her anymore.
When in December she complained I didn't call and I reminded her of this, she claimed it never happened and I "must have dreamed the whole thing" and, in her next sentence, she continued where she'd left off four months before.
I hope to G-d my nieces don't hold me in such disdain when I'm her age.
(I have not included photographs Marcia included with her post, as I do not have permission to share them.)
Marcia Braunstein
Friday, June 2, 2023 at 6:16 p.m.
On June 2, 1940, my sister, Harriet, was born. Had she lived past her 74th birthday, she would have celebrated 83 years today. Despite the fact that she suffered most of her life with depression, she was an excellent big sister, a loving daughter and a wonderful mom and good wife and a fine dog aunt. It is tough having a baby sister, yet she accepted the responsibility admirably. Of course, when she took me to shop with the Ben Franklin 50-cent piece we had just won, it was an adventure she had not anticipated. For anyone who remembers, we went to Lamstons, a local 5 and 10. I carefully picked out the toy, book, parcel or whatever, and we headed to the cashier. Harriet gladly gave the clerk my 50-cent piece, and the clerk wrapped up the package. THEN, of all things, I carried on because I wanted my 50-cent piece back! We went back to the cashier, and Harriet gave her $.50 and retrieved my 50-cent piece. I still laugh every time I think of it. She was probably ready to kill me and got me out of the store as quickly as possible.
Harriet gave me most of her life experiences, instructions on how to apply makeup— sister things she loved to share. After all, she was more than six years older than I. She gave us all lots of knowledge as she and the encyclopedia and dictionary were best friends. We seldom had a family dinner when Harriet did not pop up to retrieve the proper reference book to answer the question at hand.
By now you can tell how much Harriet was loved by us all and is missed by those of us left.
Harriet was the first grandchild on my mother's side of the family. I am the youngest on my father's side of the family. We wove quite a fabric, and Harriet was loved by all.
By the way, the baby in the carriage? My big brother, Steve, almost 3 years younger.
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