I Got Cancelled

My sister stopped engaging with me several years ago. “My therapist thinks it’s better this way.” My brother decided the same this past Christmas. “You’re no fun to talk to.”

Linked as children by our sweaters. (Columbia Icefield, 1972)

I had never got along exceptionally well with either of them, but I did strive to maintain at least a superficial relationship, if not for anything else, to stay connected with my nephews and nieces. I haven’t seen my sister’s son since he was seven; he’s now finishing his undergraduate degree in Italy.

The final descent of my sister’s Iron Curtain was triggered after our mother’s death, the last of the preceding generation, meaning there was now no one to say no.

My mother in the backyard of my childhood home in Toronto

The odd thing about this is that we all share financial stability as well as similar social and political grounding. There are no real axes to grind, no addictions or houses burned down. The main point of contention stems from 2006 when I sublet my sister’s Manhattan apartment and a couple of curse-laden messages were left by my former girlfriend on her answering machine.

My sister arranged a group therapy session with my brother and I. The session foundered the moment the therapist instructed us to step back from our conflict and share a personal issue with which we struggled. I shared my regret about never having children. My brother offered that he could get frustrated with fund-raising issues at his linguistics lab. My sister’s answer was exceptionally terse. “There’s nothing.” “Nothing at all?” The therapist prodded. “Nothing at all.”

My penchant for getting buried began in Anna Maria Key, Florida

I should have seen the writing on the wall at that moment, but I also knew that her operating mechanism was to avoid emotions at all costs. Which of course leads to my cancellation, a choice that’s not actually surprising given our current cultural climate.

No matter the reason – difference of opinion or indifference – our odd world continues to devolve into a social media platform where faces are deleted, voices silenced with a tap on the screen. Different perspectives aren’t negotiated but blocked, the sphere ever smaller, down the worm hole with the AI avatars, where the friendliest and most wonderful perspective of all are offered, where friends and brothers are always compliant and understanding, where my sister is probably talking to her new AI brother now. That jerk.

Attempting to Make Peace

I woke early Christmas Eve morning, set on reconciling with an estranged relation with whom I had once had a decent relationship. I composed my email, with a little AI help, at 6:00 am: As Christmas comes, I’ve been thinking about how we haven’t communicated with reflection. I’d really like to leave any past misunderstandings behind us and focus on building something going forward. Even if we don’t understand each other very well, I do wish that we could still reach out to one another, even in the smallest of ways. We live in a difficult age of misinformation and strife, and I look to have thoughtful relationships in my life. It would be nice for that to be something between us. Wishing you a Merry Christmas and a happy, peaceful New Year. With hope, McPhedran

His reply was quick: Hi McPhedran; Merry Christmas to you too. From my end, the problem is that you state your opinion to me, and then when I disagree, you dismiss what I have to say as wrong. You say you want to have “thoughtful relationships” in your life, but then you also say that you want to “leave any past misunderstandings behind us”. These two aren’t compatible for me. If you want to move forward with me, then I have to be satisfied with where things were, and come to some kind of agreement.  I don’t feel like you want to do that with me. Just leaving it behind doesn’t work for me. Anyway, have a good Christmas and new year.

There seemed a possibility of moving forward, and so I replied: By leaving things behind, I mean not to dwell on old disagreements. I’m just trying to reach out to find a way to reconnect, nothing more. I hope you feel up to talking again sometime soon. In the meantime, give my love to your family.

The retort came in under an hour: You never admit when you do something annoying/wrong. That makes you hard to deal with. You always say stuff like you are saying now. Do I want to interact more? No. Pass.

I resorted to AI once again to frame a conciliatory reply: I’m open to feedback when it’s constructive, but this message feels more dismissive than helpful. If you don’t want to interact, that’s your choice. I’m available whenever you want to talk.

I thought that might be the end of it, but I was wrong. Yes, that was meant to be dismissive. Not interested in interacting any more.

I attached a voice message in reply: I received your message and I just want to ask that you not be mean in your communications. I don’t deserve that. I understand that we have differences of opinion, and I accept that. But I believe that it is important to be kind and thoughtful to one another. Please avoid the meanness in the future. Thank you.

I listened to your condescending message.  Nice job at accusing me of stuff instead of taking responsibility (again). Still not interested in interacting. I will not be answering any further. UNSUBSCRIBE

We hadn’t even made it to Christmas.