The Niece

I work at a front desk. My lifestyle is glamorous, from making Keurig coffee to filing, etc, whatever. One of our boss’s associates comes up to me and we get to chatting about kids. He’s glad he’s never had kids, due to his “crazy bitch of a niece,” who he proceeded to elaborate to me for a good five minutes while I solemnly stared at my laptop.

First of all, this crazy bitch is a fifteen year old girl who is bipolar, depressed, a pathological liar, and related to this man who just called her a crazy bitch… Warning sign number 1.
Warning Sign number 2: Apparently she cuts herself, was raped, whatever, and accused her uncle (this associate) of beating her. And that’s when “he was glad they kicked the crazy bitch out.”
Warning Sign number 3: “Now she’s giving her grandparents a hell of a time.”

How one is so unbelievably happy that his crazy bitch of a niece is out of his hair, laughing to me about it, instead of so sad that his blood relative is mentally ill, seems incredibly wrong to me. No sympathy whatsoever for a child, who obviously has had a hard time to not be living with her parents and jumping from family member to family member, with low self esteem, most likely a bunch of insecurities of her own, and no help in sight… This astounds me. And I regret not telling him to shut the eff up. Though perhaps I would’ve lost my job.
This is such a problem in mental health today. People are discarded because it’s difficult. The people around them revel in their absence as if they are nothing but a rabid mutt in their home. (Don’t get me wrong, I love dogs, but this is a metaphor).


P.S. On that note, everyone check out the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention at All about reducing the stigma there that I have so addressed. I’m an advocate for sure.

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