Tag Archives: jealousy

Declutter 2017: Letter from Julia

When I was going though a box of correspondence from my mom’s house I came across a small, folded note in an unmarked envelope. Now, my mom kept pretty much every piece of correspondence she received, so it was not unusual that she kept this, but it was a surprise to me and made me very uncomfortable because 1) I didn’t know anything about it and 2) it put me in a very bad light.

It took me a while to figure out that the note was from Julia. I thought, at first, that there was someone I’d been unkind to named Pat Knight who I’d completely forgotten, then I realized it was from Julia.

Readers of this blog may recall that I briefly had a roommate from England shortly after I moved out of my mom’s house and it ended badly. She was beautiful, blond, British and outgoing. At the time I felt much inferior to her, appearance-wise. We’d go to a bar and guys would be lining up to meet her. There were times guys seemed to want to get to know me because they wanted to get closer to her. To put it bluntly, I was envious of her looks and ease with men.

I actually looked forward to her returning to the States ((She’d spent a few weeks with us during the summer, then returned to England to get a visa so she could stay longer)) as my roommate before she arrived; and I know we had some fun together. The part about me only allowing her to come back to the States because I owed it to my parents is not right — I may have said it, but that was easier to say than admit that I was jealous of her looks and accent and how guys acted around her. I also was not jealous of the relationship she was growing with my family ((well, I say that now, but perhaps I was. I know I was jealous that my mom talked to Marcia about things that she would not talk to me about)).

I know I was difficult to live with, but at the time I felt as if I were the injured party. I paid the rent and she didn’t always have the cash for her part of the rent. I paid for her medical bills when she went to the doctor because she had no insurance. I did the housekeeping and did our laundry. I definitely resented her for a lot of things and I am sure it showed.

There were other things that I won’t mention here, but both of us were on shaky ground based on societal rules (and U. S. and state laws) of the time.

The part about the letter is probably true. I don’t remember writing it, but I hated how I was acting, I hated the jealousy I was feeling. I’d long felt that there was something wrong with me because I had such a short fuse and would explode at the slightest provocation.

For years afterwards friends and family members would ask me if I’d ever heard from her or knew where she was living. I didn’t until I got in touch with her brother, and then got in touch with her in 2010. This year we became friends on Facebook.

And as I told Julia in an email nearly 8 years ago — she’s why Dean and I are together. Dean and I dated a few times in 1979, but I wanted to date someone else. A year later Dean, who  was a client of the salon where Julia worked, had her for a hair washer. When he heard her talk he asked if she knew me. She said yes and that he should call me. He did and the rest is history.

Old Writing: Part 28::Sibling Rivalry??

I have very little memory of writing this, but I remember reading it. I was a weird teenager.

May 1, 1973

“Sibling Rivalry”

“But mother, I want one too! You can’t give a doll to Heather without giving one to me, you know that!” cried ten-year-old Megan.

“Oh Megan, stop being difficult. You are making a scene. Grandma gave you a new nightgown last week, and this is Heather’s eighth birthday,” whispered Mrs. McLaughlin impatiently.

“If you give Heather a present without giving me one I will tell her what it is!” warned the near hysterical child.

“Oh Megan, whatever shall I do with you?” said Mrs. McLaughlin, turning back towards the toy department. “All right, pick out something under five dollars.”

With an almost satisfied gleam in her eye, and a sinister smirk on her face, Megan eyed the toys with exasperation. “But Mama dear, whatever can I find for under five dollars? Besides, Heather’s doll cost fifteen dollars!”

“Oh well, how about a party dress? You can wear it at Heather’s party.” angry that she couldn’t keep her own child under control, and defeated, afraid of what Megan could do if she didn’t give in, Mrs. McLaughlin gave in.

“All right, if it will make you happy I will get an old dress — but only if it costs more than Heather’s china doll!”

“We’ll see, honey, but now let’s pick out a dress for you.” She then led a satisfied little girl to find a dress.

“Oh Mama! What a beautiful doll, I shall call her Amy,” cried the joyous Heather at her eighth birthday party while Megan looked on in her new dress with envy.

“The doll is okay, but look at my dress everyone, it cost twenty-two dollars. Heather’s doll only cost fifteen! Heather never had a dress as pretty as this one, Mama even said so!” said Megan, distracting attention from Heather’s many gifts.

“Shh, Megan, this is Heather’s party.” whispered Heather and Megan’s mother.

“Shut-up! I hate you! I never get any presents. I hate you all!”

“Megan! I am sorry, kids. Megan is just tired from shopping today. You just on on with your party,” said Mrs. McLaughlin, running after her hysterical child.


“Megan, do you want this top that Kim gave me? Or this Barbie doll from Sandy? Please don’t be angry with me,” pleaded Heather.

“I’m not mad,” said Megan, picking up Heather’s new china doll and looking at it with an odd smile, “but I would like this!”

“Oh, no, Megan, please, not that. Mama gave it to me and I want to keep it. You can have anything else though,” said Heather in tears.

“No! I want this, it is mine anyway. A nice rich man gave it to me and Mother gave it to you because she hates to spend money on you, only me!” lied Megan.

“You are lying, Megan. Go out of my room, you can’t have anything!” screamed Heather.

“Oh yeah” Well how about this?” screamed Megan, throwing the fragile china doll to the floor. “So there, I wouldn’t want that old doll anyway, now!” Megan ran out the door slamming it behind her.

“Oh Amy, Amy, don’t die, don’t be broken please.” sobbed the heartbroken Heather, picking up the shattered doll and rocking back and forth as if trying to comfort the doll — only getting the comfort from the “dead” doll instead. ” Oh, Amy, Amy…”