My apologies for the length - this post has turned into a cross between something cathartic and a memorialization of events....

Back story – I have one biological brother. I have two cousins, Loony and Max. Their father is my mother’s brother, my Uncle Deadbeat. Uncle Deadbeat loved him some whores, so much so that he married one of them when she became pregnant with Loony. Her name was Aunt Whore. That was 1968. Uncle Deadbeat and Aunt Whore had Max in March of 1971. In November of 1971, Uncle Deadbeat took off for parts unknown. In December of 1971, Aunt Whore showed up at our suburban home and dumped Loony and Max on our doorstep. We didn’t see or hear from Aunt Whore for about a year.

My parents kinda freaked out but then did what any responsible human beings would do and raised Loony and Max as their own. Aunt Whore eventually showed up one day in 1973 and Loony and Max would spend two weekends a month with her. I have very vivid memories of driving Loony and Max to Aunt Whore’s various apartments over the years, always in a shittier and shittier neighborhood. Loony and Max would always come home with the most interesting stories about the activities at Aunt Whore’s home. Eventually, sometime around 1978 or so, Loony and Max stopped going to Aunt Whore’s. Loony and Max graduated high school, my grandparents sent them to college. Loony was a class mate of my husband, who had no idea that Loony and I were raised together, let alone cousins. To say that Loony and I were not close growing up would be an understatement.

As time went on during her adolescence, she started to act out, ran away from home blah blah blah. I was out of the house at this time, and quite frankly, wasn’t interested in the manufactured bullshit she was selling. She told everyone who would listen that my parents abused her – not true – that she and Max were treated like second class citizens – not true – in general acting like a BM and/or skid. She and my parents had a falling out, but then worked through the issues. I stayed out of it. I recognized Loony for the disordered person that she is. Loony remained very close to our grandmother.

Loony moved to Alaska sometime around 1987 to become a park ranger and finish college. At this time, Max was still in high school and I was starting my senior year of college. My parents were divorced by this time. Time goes by, and I am married and living in Chicago. Loony is in Alaska, has been married a few times (no kids) and is back in school to become a therapist. I think to myself, “good, now she can finally figure herself and her shit out.” Max gets married to a lovely girl and they move to Portland, where he got a teaching gig.

On Thanksgiving in 1998, Loony is back in town and she and Max are supposed to have dinner with Aunt Whore. Something goes awry and they are late getting to her house, and when they walk in, they find her dead. Massive heart attack. Loony starts to lose it and begins spinning her stories of abuse again. Again, I see her for the disordered freak that she is and stay away from it. She sends me hateful letters going on about how my mother should be the one who is dead and not hers and how she always resented me because MY parents were around and hers weren’t. Whatever, psycho, whatever. I cut her out of my life.

Cut to the now – my grandmother is 94 and has recently been hospitalized. She is now in a rehab facility for some PT and OT to help her get back the skills of daily living. My grandmother did NOT want Loony or Max to know that she had been in the hospital or that she was in the rehab facility. Her nosy neighbors, Gladys Kravitz and Jerky, go against her wishes, and contact Loony to let her know. Loony says she is coming to Michigan. And so is Max. Oh, joy……panic ensues for my mom and grandmother. I tell them to let me handle it. Gladys and Jerky don’t know the history of Loony nor do they know she is so freaking disordered.

I start googling around to try to figure out what flight she could possibly be on and I come across her Practice’s website. She specializes in – wait for it – childhood trauma and domestic violence. Both of which she witnessed as a child in HER parents’ home. You know how we sometimes talk about bad therapists? She is one of them. She also specializes in helping people recover their traumatic childhood memories. Oh dear, seriously? I am quite sure that every one of her “memories” is a false one and I am sure she is helping the children of Alaska remember things that never happened.

Anyway, I go the rehab facility last night after work. Hurricane Loony has yet to arrive. My mom tags out and goes home, while I stay with my grandmother for a wee bit. Then, while I am in the cafeteria getting some coffee for my grandmother, I see her, walking down the hall towards my grandmother’s room. I take a deep breath and walk in. Hurricane Loony announces that she is here to “handle things” and demands to see the Power of Attorney. I ignore her and hand my grandmother the cup of coffee. I intended to let them have some time together and was getting ready to go down stairs for a bit when Loony says “oh, and if you cause any trouble, I will call the police. I have already alerted them to the situation.” Situation? What situation? Who the hell comes in from Alaska and notifies the police that there might be trouble? Someone looking for trouble, that’s who.

I told my grandmother that I would be right back and to have a nice chat with Loony. I called my mom to let her know that Loony was here and demanding to be “put in charge.” My mom decided it would be best for her to return to the rehab facility in case there were any issues. As I walked back into the building, the Administrator is sitting at the front desk and she stops me. She tells me that Loony is upsetting my grandmother and the two of us head upstairs.

When we get into the room, my grandmother is asleep, so Administrator asks Loony to come down to her office. Loony tells Administrator that I threatened her (???) and that the police are on their way. Administrator looked at me and I just rolled my eyes. About this time, my mom showed up and she went to my grandmother’s room, only to find her asleep. A few minutes later, my cell phone rings and I tell her we are in the Administrator’s Office. My mom arrives and the Administrator asked Loony to leave. Loony refuses to leave, stating that she is a Licensed Clinical Social Worker and she demands to given POA. Administrator convinces Loony to leave. I yawn, roll my eyes and leave the room. I left my grandmother a note telling her that I would be back tomorrow.

My mom is working all day today and is trying to decide whether or not she is going to bar Loony from the rehab facility. I told Loony last night that asking someone to step outside is not a threat and that I am surprised she didn't learn that in social work school, seeing as she is a certified DV counselor and all that. Yawn.....

Thanks to any of you who are still reading at this point. Like I said, part cathartic piece, part memorialization.

Moral of the story? Just because someone has the initials "MSW" after their name, doesn't mean they are healthy, or normal, or not a loon.