Treatmebetta

I talk a lot about family on TMB because I believe of all the things we have to deal with in life, family can have a hugely significant impact on a woman’s life, career, finances, everything. And when it’s a Black woman, family impact is even greater because the pressures are significantly greater.

You’ve heard of the Black tax. Because of the pervasim isms that govern our lives, the Black experience is simply more stressful, and the pressures that Black women face as matriarchs, fixers, go-to women, strong Black women, and all of the other capes and roles that we are expected to don, it’s a heavy load. A load that some family members are often way too happy to place on our shoulders.

Family has had a huge, largely negative impact on my life. And unfortunately, I’ve seen it over and over and over again as a negative stressor in the lives of close friends, colleagues, acquaintances and it’s been depicted in depth in various types of media featuring us. It boils down to one inevitable fact: Family unchecked can become a burden that drags Black women down to the depths of hell. And this burden actively fights for the right to burn its savior alive.

That sounds super dramatic, right? I’m so serious though.

Without boundaries, family members can become a source of pressure and angst that is so invasive, many times I don’t even think Black women understand the severity of their impact. Of the top of my head, bum ass family members can:

• Make a Black woman lose copious amounts of sleep, which has negative implications for health, focus, discipline, decision-making, appearance, etc.
• Keep her from saving money because she’s always handing hers out to people in need due to bad decisions or guilt because she’s good with her money and is using it to lead a visibly good life that others want without having to put in the work she did.
• Keep her cortisol and stress levels sky high, which is horrible for health. And not helpful at all when you’re a black woman in your 40’s battling perimenopause or menopause.
• Prevent her from taking proper care of herself because her time is always taken up caring for others.
• Continually embroil her in drama that prevents her from enjoying peace. Essentially, it’s endless phone calls listening to heaux shit, endless problems to solve, many of them over and over again, constant exposure to no critical thinking, no accountability, and someone always needs something. Quiet becomes a quaint notion, a construct so distant, if she gets it, a Black woman may not recognize it or even know what to do with it. 

And that’s just the beginning of what family drama can do. I didn’t mention the confusion. 

For Black women family pressures can inhibit growth, cause extreme stress and even pre-empt a downfall

I’ll give you an example. I’ve taken a lot of hits lately. I like to think that the good Lord is preparing me for something great, but: I’ve been uncomfortable. I’ve been confused. I’ve been worried, and my sister has been — at least on the surface — trying to help me. 

But the gag is, throughout my life, and I’m a women in her 40s, her help has always been transactional. Nothing is free. She may say, I don’t want anything from you, but I can guarantee you it’s not true. I repeat. Nothing is free with her.

She gives you a ride somewhere when your car is down? The next day she needs $20 to get her eyelashes done. It’s like that, over and over and over again. 

But in my 40+ years of living I’ve realized that I don’t want transactional relationships. I’ve been privileged that the family I’ve built, my friends all over the country who support, care for, and assist me in various ways — all without asking for anything in return — have shown me a different path. A path that I love because it fits the life that I want to live. It’s generous, kind, appropriate, loving — and it wants nothing in return.

I had a brush with a Midwestern tornado recently, and my power was out for almost three days. I was down. No power meant I had a freezer full of meat, chicken and fish spoil, and I was literally sick about it. But without me asking my friends sent me ice and coolers via Instacart and suggested ways I could maximize the juice on my phone until I could get out to recharge it and my other devices.

It wouldn’t have been a big deal except, my cycle started. With no heating pad — no electricity remember — I was literally hurting so bad I just laid in the bed, pitiful. My sister kept texting and calling me asking, is the power back on? Is the power back on? What are you going to do? You have to call FEMA. They’ll reimburse you, this, that and the third.

Y’all, I was in no shape to deal with that pressure. And I told her: I will let you know when the power’s back on, please stop calling. You’re wasting my battery, and I’m hurting. I can’t leave the house right now. I need to rest.

My anxiety spiked every time there was a ding on my phone, and I was already upset thinking about that food spoiling, plus the fact that I couldn’t work with no internet, my belly was hurting, I just laid in my bed and cried. 

On the surface my sister was just trying to help. But I told her exactly how I needed her to help — leave me alone right now; stop calling so I can rest — and she refused to listen. This is not the first time this has happened. It’s not even the 25th time. This is a constant situation with her. And it’s always in the midst of some kind of crisis — when I need additional stress the absolute least.

Don’t get me wrong. My sister has helped me many times when I needed her. But those times are far outweighed by the unnecessary pressure that she inflicts ostensibly trying to help me, when I have not asked for assistance.

Unasked for assistance from bum ass family members is often little more than interfering patronage and unnecessary drama

And when I said confusion, I meant I don’t want to have to wonder what are your motives for helping me? Remember I said this is a transactional person. Nothing is ever free with her. 

I don’t want to have to wonder how I will have to repay you. I don’t want you calling me demanding money later because you did me a favor that I did not ask for. 

I don’t want that kind of shit in my life. 

I don’t want people in my life who don’t listen to me. 

I don’t want people in my life who do what’s best for them and pretend that is what’s best for me. I’m grown. If I tell you something, listen. I know what the fuck I need.

Black women over 40, we are at that age where stress is increasingly harmful. I don’t want to engage with people who make my chest tight. I don’t want to engage with people who rattle me so badly I can’t focus. People who needlessly upset me so much that I take to my bed, and start bothering my wonderful friends with stupid questions like why me? Why won’t they stop? Why won’t they listen? Am I wrong? And all this other stupid shit that wouldn’t be necessary if they would just leave me alone. 

But that’s the kicker. Bum ass family members won’t leave you alone. You could have years of bad blood, drama, failed situations, fights, aborted conversations, screams, yells, you get the picture, and they will still come play in your face talking about, “but we family. We all we got.”

Really? ‘Cuz if this is all there is — that’s utter nonsense, by the way, nothing but manipulation — I’m straight. ‘Cuz real talk? I no longer give a shit about labels.

Show me you love me. Show me you care. Listen to me. Give me what I need. Give me what I ask you for — even if it’s nothing but peace and quiet — not what you want to give me. 

After days of no power — did I mention it’s summer in Chicago so that means a house with no air? — a cranky belly, and a lot of additional stress, I have confirmed something critically important.

Family labels from blood relatives mean little to nothing when there is no thought or care behind their actions. When you have to wonder how you will be made to pay for help offered, or what it may cost you at a later date, you don’t want or need that help.

And right today, I can guarantee if I tried to explain what I’ve written here today to my sister she would deny it all to her last breath. But our history tells its own tale, you see what I’m sayin’? Past behavior is indeed an indicator of current and future behavior. Her pattern of “offering help” and then demanding some kind of payment later is not a past thing. She’s done this to me in the past few weeks! 

So, who’s really the fool if this continues to happen to me? I am.

But I’m not a fool. I see patterns clearly ‘cuz I’ve been down this road before. I’ve trod this same path for years, and I know where it leads! I can recognize game, sister mine. And I want no part of it. 

Life is too short, y’all, to mess with people who bring nothing but drama, confusion, and hurt into your life. Whether they are a family member or a stranger on the street, no one has the right to hurt you over and over and over again. 

The old me would have sighed and taken it, believing that’s what family is like. That’s just the price you have to pay for taking part in the family unit. The new me knows better. The new me has many good friends who have shown her a different way to live, and a far more peaceful and supportive way to interact with people. That is the direction I’m going. Those are the relationships I’m nurturing.

Because I deserve peace. I deserve care. I deserve help on my terms. And I know it’s up to me to ensure that I have boundaries in place so that I get it.

Treat me betta.