I will call the person Pat. I tried my whole life to get along with Pat. At times had so much admiration for Pat and really believed that Pat cutting me off many times was beause of me...my fault. 100%. And longed for a relationship. This last time Pat was good to me was while i helped Pat with a hard emotional stretch. After that changed, so did Pat. I am sure that it was not all because Pat was thinking about me. I have learned belatedly that Pat lives in drama...work, love life, personal life...and has a sharp, hurtful tongue. Perhaps just for me (shrug). Pat is not a horrible person, but, like my mother, Pat is not nice to me. I felt I had to watch every word I said or risk Pats wrath. Pat is in my opinion overly sensitive. Once I wrote a text to Pat and spelled it Pattie. She spells it Patti. I had mistakenly typed Pattis name the way a coworker spells her Pattie name. This turned into an actual issue even after I explained. That was just a minor example. There is much more, and I realize we are toxic to each other. Period. I know for sure Pat is toxic to me. I am used to my loved ones liking me. Pat does not. Thats okay. But I like me now and am unwilling to fight or walk on eggshells and be told that who I am is not okay. I still love Pat, but after listening and reading texts, I made a careful decision to block Pat from texting, calling and email. I tried to love Pat the best I could. Obviously Pat has a different opinion, but thats fine. She is probably partly right too. We just cant get along no matter how hard we try. I feel, from my point of view, that Pat takes every mistake, every flaw too literally and hard and that pat is impossible for me to talk to. Im sorry about all this. Pat also never says "im sorry. I was wrong." The most I ever get is "Well, I am not perfect either." Not the same. Because Pat has a tendency to contact my husband, he blocked her too. He never liked Pat and wants Pat to leave him alone. He is also drama free. So its done and this time I was the one who could no longer take the dissension. I realize now that it was never just my fault. My Dad is 93. When he is gone, there will be no more connection between us. Sometimes it takes 63 years to really let go. And often it isnt easy but necessary. I do wish Pat the very best. Thanks for letting me vent. Messages welcome but not needed. And, if Pat is reading this, I will not address it again here.