I made that last post about how family should be Tabetha’s priority, knowing full well what happened in the Jones household Thanksgiving night. However, unlike Tabetha, I’m not willing to put another person’s misfortune out there on a blog to cover my own ass. So I’m not here to talk about exactly what happened.
Yes, I have talked about it in private texts and messages. I’m not going to deny that. And there’s a good reason why I’ve talked about it. There are two of them, in fact.
The first reason I’ve talked about it is that I’m being blamed for it. Tabetha’s trying very hard to implicate me as the reason it happened. Despite her protestation that she only told ONE person what happened, she’s gone screaming far and wide, to everybody that will listen that it’s my fault because of the “harassing” and “cyberbullying” nature that she wants everybody to believe this blog boasts. I’m hurting innocent people, she says, and now I have to pay for it.
And I did struggle with that notion myself. Maybe if I hadn’t posted such brutally honest facts, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. Some truths are hard to accept, depending on how dearly the belief is that the truth contradicts. Some are impossible to believe, if a person isn’t prepared to accept it. Even though every word was true, maybe I pushed too hard. The thought made me very uncomfortable.
But I’m very fortunate. I’ve got friends that buffeted me about the head and neck verbally, reminding me that Tabetha’s the one that created the lies. I didn’t do anything wrong.
That leads to the second reason I’ve talked about it. Because I didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not my own deception I exposed with these blog posts. It’s Tabetha. It’s her lies that have hurt the people in her life, from family on down to authors, artists, editors, and models she’s come into contact with. I imagine her lies have touched just about everybody she’s ever met, in some form or another.
Yesterday, Tabetha got on her sister’s FB account and invited me to call their mother. I had expressed a desire to talk to their mom and offer her my heartfelt prayers, and Tabetha jumped on that. She repeatedly offered that I should call. She taunted me, saying “Mom’s still waiting for your call.” She even dared me, calling it “a simple phone call.”
Here’s the entire conversation, so that there’s no mis-communication about that was said. The only bits I’m blacking out directly discuss that’s going on, and a private phone number. Like I said before, Tab has no problem throwing people’s business out there, but that’s her. Not me.
I almost called. Almost. I really and truly want to offer whatever comfort I can to Dee’s mom. But after the first or second invitation from her, it started to smell like something was up. I wasn’t just welcome to call, it really seemed like she wanted me to call. A lot. Something just didn’t smell right. Why would she want me to call so badly? Despite the fact that I have repeated invitations to call, was she trying to set me up for harassment?
Later on, I figured it out. One of the first things she said to me was that her mom almost had a heart attack because of everything that’s gone on. It’s possible that she wanted me to call so that she could accuse me not only of harassment, but of causing her mother to fall ill as well.
Something else that struck me about that conversation: she kept saying that her mom was waiting for my call. If it’s true that mom did almost have another heart attack, I hope she was waiting for my call in the hospital, on a cell phone. Because if mom wasn’t feeling well, what with an “almost” heart attack, I hope that Tab would have taken her to the doctor rather than sitting at home waiting for me to call, hoping she could blame it on me. I’d like to think that mom’s health is more important than blaming it on me, and for any other person on earth, I think it would be so. But since it’s Tabetha Jones we’re talking about here, I just don’t know. I honestly wouldn’t put it past her.
No. I’m not calling their house, or any of their cell phones. I repeat and maintain that her mom is welcome to call me anytime. If she’s got anything to say to me, I’m right here. I don’t believe for an instant that Tabetha threw my number away. She was never supposed to have it, but thanks to the BBB, she does. Any time her mom wants to pick it up and give me a call, I’ll be very happy to personally offer her my prayers.
Tabetha insists that mom doesn’t do computers, and that’s fine. My own departed Granny never got the hang of how to work the VCR. I understand that completely. But Tabetha does. If it’s true that she trashed my number (which I sincerely doubt) She’s welcome to park the old girl in front of the computer and fire up Skype herself so that mom can tell me face to face whatever it is she wants me to know. That doesn’t require any special skills. All she’d have to do is sit there and talk. But this is the second time I’ve offered to Skype with mom because Tabetha has insisted that she (mom) has something to say to me. And this is the second time she’s declined.
Ball’s in her court. She’s got my number. She can let mom use it. Or she can sit mom down in front of a Skype call. Either way. It’s not because I’m scared or hiding. I’m simply not stupid enough to fall into her trap and give her the ammunition to (try to) accuse me of harassment or blame me for her mother’s health issues. So, to anybody out there that she’s telling I’m a chicken shit, not so. I’m right here, ready and waiting any time she wants to pick up the phone or fire up Skype. If she doesn’t, it’s on her, not me.
I’ve said it before, and I meant it. Her family should be more important than I am. Right now, especially. But considering who we’re talking about, I’d lay odds that I’ll see her IP and proxies visiting my blog as many times today as she did yesterday, if not more, and every day before that. And it wouldn’t surprise me to see more models, alts and aliases pop up to defend her. In short, putting her attention here rather than where it belongs: with the people she should care about.
She doesn’t get it, and never will. And for that, I really am sorry. Not for her, because she brings it on herself. I’m sorry for the people close to her that dash themselves against the brick wall that exists where her heart should be, and break themselves upon it.
As sorry as I am for those poor people, I’m glad that I am not her. I give thanks for that every single day of my life.