Tia Maria

I know before— Oh, hey guys, it's Jen— I know I've talked about my cousin Susan before. And I think it's time now for me to talk about her sister, my other cousin, Tia Maria. Like they say, you should never have three, because it will always be two against one. And that is how the dichotomy of our relationship was. It's not even —the tri-chotomy— haha! That's the trichotomy. Our triad was always imbalanced.

I grew up with Susan and Tia living across the alley from me, so we were so close that we were like siblings in a way. Not only did I have the only child vibe, but also the baby vibe, the youngest vibe. And so did Tia Maria because she was the youngest of her family, and perhaps her mother's most prized possession.
Tia is a beautiful woman and she was apparently a beautiful baby; she won several baby beauty pageants. And I don't know why my aunt ever stopped because it's possible that Tia could have had the kind of career that she wanted to have in, like, a quiet way. Tia Maria was a natural performer, but she was shy. She had a voice from the heavens and she could sing exactly like Mariah Carey, who was also her biggest inspiration. She loved Mariah Carey so much since we were so little that, like…
I remember I didn't know who Mariah Carey was, and I actually got her confused with Marie Curie…? For the longest time, I thought there was like a reincarnated scientist who sang pop songs.

In our high school years when I was closer to Susan, that was mostly because Tia had decided to go to a Catholic school. I don't really remember why. I know that she was pretty consistently religious, kind of of her own volition. I remember her going into her closet and putting on a rosary and praying. Like, that was her little altar space. That was her safe zone for prayer.
I don't know where her attachment to religion came from because though they were more Irish Catholic than my family, nobody was really religious. For some reason I think of it now like almost an OCD thing that she had as a kid because as an adult she became so fearful and upset by the outside world that it was basically to the point of agoraphobia.

She was chronically ill, finally diagnosed as an adult, and because of her condition she's got a lot of appointments, but she's also kind of too tired… And she just used to say that, you know, this taxi driver was treating me so strange. And it would happen a lot and so many people would treat her so strange. And as somebody who is also chronically ill and been treated strangely for the way that I'm acting at times that I'm sick, I get it.
But at a certain point it starts to feel like somebody is searching for means of being offended because they're always on high alert, because they're unfortunately suffering with like complex PTSD that they don't perhaps even really know about. And this is what I think the case is for Tia Maria.

She was the first person to break away from our family and stop coming to family dinners when we were teenagers. The thing is that I feel like she broke away from the family, only to get involved in this deeply abusive relationship that none of us knew about until way later. And I still don't think that her side of the family knows everything.
As an adult she and I became close again, and I got to learn about all of these things that she had been through that I don't think anybody knew. And I really enjoyed the way that we were getting close.
When I was 21, I moved to the South.And one of the first gigs I had was working an event, managing the check-ins, and I ran into Tia's abusive ex. At that time, I knew the stories, but I had forgotten that this person even existed. But when they said, Oh, hey, you're Tia's cousin.
I was like, Oh, shit. Hi. How are you? And that was it. You know, they didn't ask about Tia. They were with somebody new. For a second, I wondered if they did the same thing to that person.
When I went home, I told Tia. I sent her a message, and I said, Look, I ran into your ex at this event I'm hosting. I can't believe they traveled all the way here for an event, that's kind of lame of them. But small world.
She was incredibly upset with me and triggered by what I'd said. She went off on me about if I'm going to hang out with her ex, who I know did all of those things to her, then she can't talk to me.
And I was like, You have to calm down. I am sorry that this upsets you. But I'm just saying that this person is attending an event I'm working. And I can't control whether or not I see them. But please rest assured that I'm not hanging out with them. I wouldn't have necessarily been able to pick them out of a crowd or a lineup, you know? Like, please chill the fuck out. You know what I mean? But I get it, I get it.

Probably a year after that, she came to visit me for the first time… If you listen to OldBodies, you know that I deal with chronic pain and that I understand the links between chronic pain and… honestly, being in a shitty fucking mood. I know the link between that very well. I probably have been experiencing it for longer than I've been acknowledged for having pains.
That being said, her demeanor changed to such an extent… Once she became sick, it was almost that she was angry at everything all the time for this having happened. And I wonder sometimes if it was because she was misdiagnosed or ignored for so long that she was angry at that neglect. Or if this was something new. I don't know because I don't talk to her and you'll find out why in a few minutes.

The second time she came to visit me, she was noticeably weak and— I thought— too thin. But I realized that she was happy at that weight because, later on when she told me that she'd gained a lot of weight, I thought she looked healthy and honestly happier then.
When we were children, she was on Weight Watchers and she wasn't a fat kid. She was— as was I— frequently compared to Susan, and it was a weird game that her mother liked to play. Honestly, probably still does, I haven't spoken to that woman in a very long time. But one time she did tell me, Oh, you're so skinny now, Jen. You look just like Susan.
And I was kind of like, the fuck? The fuck can't you just say, like, you must have been working out a lot or something? Like what the fuck does Susan have— Like, why is Susan the epitome of beauty for you? You had Tia Maria and her baby beauty awards.
Like it's just such a confusing way to be a narcissistic parent. It doesn't make— Whatever, man.
Maybe she decided that she didn't want to support Tia Maria in the same way once Tia Maria started to get sick— or rather started to be more vocal about the issues that she was having. Cause sometimes it's like that, where you just, you're just called a sensitive kid for all the things that are wrong with you. If you weren't so sensitive.

And so maybe that's where Tia is as an adult. And that's why she's so angry with me and the other people in our family, who I guess she has a right to be angry at. And I'm not saying she doesn't have a right to be angry at me. But there were a lot of times that she was angry at me for confusing things that weren't my fault.

In our mid twenties, she got really into skincare. She asked me to buy her some products from my work with my discount, and I did.
A couple of days later, I get a message about how could I send this to her? Why didn't I warn her? I didn't know why I should warn you about the product because it says how to use the product and how not to use the product. I didn't know that she was going to use exfoliating gloves on, on her face skin and not on her body. To be honest, the exfoliating gloves kind of seem a little harsh in general, but also I wonder why she didn't stop. If it hurt, I wonder why she thought that pain was part of the experience. And it's like oh, well, your childhood told you that, right?
One time when I was doing her hair, she told me that she wanted to become a nail artist, but her mother/my aunt, said it was trashy. So she didn't do that, she didn't pursue that. Instead, she got some useless degree in, like, dance performance— which again, she was a born performer. If she didn't get sick, she could have been something— or I guess… I don't know what exactly ever stopped her. Part of me thinks it's a combination of the illnesses and her family.

We disagreed a lot about gender roles and relationships, which was really annoying for her to have any kind of opinion on it. Considering I felt like the relationship that she had had was abusive, and also was not a hetero relationship that followed gender norms.
So I was kind of like, what the fuck do you know about what you're talking about to a married person? But that's how she was. And she based a lot of her opinions on our grandparents, who at one point gave her mother away, which kind of explains why my aunt is the way she was.
You can say that our grandmother did the best she could at the time. Just because the Great Depression was happening, doesn't mean that giving your child away to favor your new husband is any kind of good. But I'm just like, that's not a pair of people to base— That's not couple goals! It's not. Fuck that.
So with that framework, whenever— the way that she responded to my dating foibles, it was with just such an innocently condescending tone. It was very, very annoying. There was a lack of… there was a written sympathy, but a lack of empathy, and still kind of an air of superiority behind it, which really bugged me. But I could just be digging for that. It could also be something she learned from her mother.

When I moved out west and into my first apartment, she bought me a table that was too tall for me to use with the chairs that I had. And when I offered to send it back so she could get the money back, she didn't want it. [Stuttering] I was almost like, I'm just going to throw it away. Like, I can't use it unless I buy new chairs, and I don't have the money to buy new chairs, which is why I didn't buy a table.
Eventually I found a place for it in the corner and it became the landing table for my keys and stuff. I just didn't understand her insistence that I keep this table that I really had to work to find a place for. It really made me— it was so confusing.
And I, I still, I never have, and I still don't like to receive gifts because it does feel like there's this weird sense of obligation. And obviously it's probably just my family. It's just the dysfunction of the people who were around me. And she carried it on.
Don't like it.
When I moved out, I think I gave that table away because it was too big for my next apartment. It was a very tall, like three foot diameter bar table. I appreciate that she was so excited for my new beginning. I didn't need it.

I was scooping the poop this morning, and that's actually what made me think I really need to talk about Tia Maria today is, every time I scoop cat shit, I'm reminded of her. Which sounds horrible, but it's true. And the reason for that is because we've always had cats, we were a family of pet hoarders.
Like, everybody [x2] always has at least two cats. I've tried to avoid it, and then I found one on the fucking bus. There's really nothing I can do, the cat distribution system is overtime in our family.
At one point, she asked my feedback on what kind of cat litter I use because my house didn't stink. At the time I was using scoopable clay litter, there's a brand name, I just can't think of it. But I can picture the box with, like, a cartoon orange cat on it. Anyway, if you know, that's cool. You got it.
But I said, yeah, I use the scoopable clay and I use a covered box. And Pearl will poop outside the box if it needs to be cleaned. Like, she'll let me know if things are not working out. I think at that point I was scooping it every two days for two cats.
And yes, we only had one litter box, which yes is negligent. And I understand like in an ideal world, the math of like cats having multiple litter boxes, like more than the amount of cats. It's always supposed to be one litter box per cat plus one, right?
First of all, I have had plenty of success just having one litter box. And second of all, the way that most people deploy this is completely fucking incorrect. And they put all the litter boxes in a row. That's not the point.
The point is to have three actually different potty spots. If you're just putting all of your litter boxes in the bathroom together, they are going to fucking stink because all that urine air is concentrated. You need to spread your litter boxes evenly throughout the house and you need to scoop them every day.
Now, I don't know how many litter boxes Tia Maria had. I'm assuming just the one. Out of thin air, I receive a random piece of unsolicited feedback, which is, I don't know how you deal with the scoopable litter. I went to clean it out and that shit popped out like an ice cube. And I get the visual. That is fucking hilarious. I can totally see it. I've had corners that end up that way.
[But why] Is your litter getting so soiled? And she said, what are you talking about? I change it once a week.
And I'm like, the whole point of scoopable litter is that you can scoop it every day and you don't have to change— Why would you use the exfoliating gloves on your face? What about scoopable litter is an unclear product? And why are you changing your litter only once a week if it's the non-scoopable kind that you have to change with a liner? Why are you only doing that once a week?
Anyway, those are just some of my thoughts on cat maintenance. Again, distressing to be blamed, accused of being the reason for somebody else's misuse of a product. I just told you the name of this shit, I didn't tell you how the fuck I did it. You're the one who did it all fucked up, it's not my fucking problem, dude.

Also, after I moved here, she really got a bug up her ass to want to move out here too. And I thought, oh no, I don't want that. She had never been here. I guess she had read that the weather was ideal for her condition, which I just don't think is true because it's technically only 70 degrees out right now, but the sun will give you a burn in five minutes. I literally will get a tan on my walk when I'm walking the dog. This is a different kind of heat than I think anybody, even people who've lived here their entire lives, has ever experienced.
And so I said that to her, I said, I don't think that's a good idea. It's too hot here. I think you should move near the Pacific Northwest, near our cool aunt. That way you have somebody nearby who understands your condition and the weather will be more suitable to your needs.
And she said, I heard it rains a lot there. And I'm like, yeah, I guess it kind of, you know, it's a moist and drizzly place. And she's like, well, rain is depressing. Okay. It actually rains a lot in California too. Unfortunately, you're going to be depressed most of the time if you're expecting it to be nice.
If you're expecting other things to make you undepressed, then you're just going to be depressed. And that was part of it too, is I just felt like everything, all of the depression was external for her. When in fact, it's really just the way that your brain calculates how much energy and hormones to give to certain things. And usually it's wrong. But another thing about depression is that it makes you irrational. It makes you unable to see that errant calculation and unable to be contrarian with yourself in order to see the other side.

Not only is it too hot here, it's really fucking expensive. And because of her disability… welp, she's on disability. She was struggling to find suitable places to live in a city that at the time was mah-hutch cheaper, like half the cost of the apartments here. And I also told her that I said, it's really expensive; a lot of people work multiple jobs.
She had put an offer on a house… Let's just say for simplicity's sake, that the house was a hundred thousand dollars and she offered 70,000, which I thought— Unless the house is really falling apart and the sellers are delusional, what the fuck makes you think that you're going to get this offer accepted? As somebody who had just flipped a condo, bought another one, and then given it away to my ex-husband, I knew a little bit more about real estate than she did…
But she still insisted that this was the place that she should be, and that she didn't want the house that she was set to inherit. If she just inherited the house, she could have sold it and bought herself another house.
Instead, she refused and her mother sold the house. Who knows if she'll ever see any of that inheritance because her mom is still alive for some fucking reason. And look, I get that the elder women in our families are dealing with their trauma as they raise us, but that doesn't mean that they did good. And specifically looking at this relationship, I can say that this woman did not do good.

I'm assuming through therapy or something, maybe a book she read, Tia Maria decided that she couldn't be in, I guess, contact with people who didn't love her. She needed me to say it. She asked me, do you love me?
And I said, sure.
And she's like, I need you to say it.
And I, I can't. I don't tell people I love them. I only tell people I love them when I'm very angry, because I am trying to say, I love you so much that even this anger will not split us up. That is what I mean when I say I love you in anger. Like, look, dude, I love you so much right fucking now, but I really want to smack the shit out of you, but I love you. Just need to know you're acting like a shit.
I don't even say I love you to the woman who gave birth to me very frequently; When I do, it's usually in a sing-songy, sarcastic voice. I'm almost like a cartoon character in that way. I literally, I just can't— I luh… luh… luh. So I said, no, I can't.
And she said, well, then I can't talk to you anymore. That's my boundary, so I'm going to not talk to you.
And I said, okay. There's only one thing I can say to get you to change your opinion or your feelings about this. And, uh, I don't wanneu. Saying it to change your feelings or opinion feel feels manipulative, and you even requesting this feels manipulative.
Which is fine, go ahead. Like, this is something that you feel is healthy, that's fine. Like, I'm not going to argue against something that somebody feels is healthy for them, because you won't win, you can just be there on the other side of it.

Like I was! When she called me, um… my gosh, maybe a year after she said that? To let me know that her cat died. And I asked her how she was and she said she was okay. And then she said, well, I'm going to stop talking to you again.
And I said, okay.
At this point, I don't know where she is. I don't know how she's surviving. I hope she's doing well.

Tia Maria was ahead of her time in a lot of ways. And I did learn a lot from her, specifically about nonverbal autistic people. She was very adamant. Well, that there were people stuck in there. Because I think in the same way that other people are trapped by their conditions, she was trapped. And so she found a community of people who, for whatever reason, needed that particular community.
And amongst them, she said she had some very tight friends with autism, you know, what we would deem a severe kind. And at that point, I honestly didn't really believe her. I was like, this person must be lying to you if they can type.
But I mean, hey! Look at, look how far we've come in the last decade. She was really ahead of her time. She was, again, the first one to leave our family. (Susan still hasn't done that.)
She was the first one to point out her mother's narcissistic tendencies that we'd all kind of just chalked up to, Oh, that's just my aunt. That's just who she is, and we just accepted it. And she refused to accept a lot of the facets of this universe out of principle and out of fairness, where she just insisted that things never change.
It's so unfair, but it was so unfair to expect everyone else around her, from relatives to taxi drivers, to bear the brunt of the things that affected her.
And I had to say, Okay.

[~*guitar solo*~]