An Open Letter to Teresa Giudice
Let me preface this by saying that I am fairly new to the RHONJ world. I jumped into the mania -- head first -- when the third season premiered last year on Bravo. Since then, I have been glued to your East Coast shenanigans along with those of Caroline, Jacqueline, Melissa, and Kathy. I realize that watching you ladies throw parties and duke it out over sometimes-trivial issues allows me to wax nostalgic on my times back in New York (I'm a Westchester County boy, born and raised just outside the Bronx in New Rochelle). Having grown up around a diverse group of Tri-State Area personalities, I recognize women like you, so I guess your show kind of reminds me of (parts of) home. After all, Jersey ain't that far from NY.
Now that we're halfway through Season 4, I have to express my concerns about your welfare, the welfare of your children, and the welfare of your "friends" who have tirelessly attempted to help you and be reasonable with you. If by some random chance that you do find and read this, I have no doubt you'll be quick to scoff, dismiss me with a wave of your bejeweled hand, shake your head with a "Whatever," and tell me to get a life.
But just like you have a right to subject your husband and four young daughters to the microscope of reality TV and the glossy pages of US Weekly for further study, I have a right to speak out and share my views with this forum we entitled writer-losers call the blogosphere. So, hear me out, because I've spent plenty of hours listening to your sides of many stories via well-lit testimonials in which you try your bestest to come up with a soundbite.
I have no doubt that you love your children and that you would do anything for them. However, whether or not editing has played a role in portraying your parenting skills, you can't ignore the fact that your daughters, particularly your eldest, have an interesting future ahead of them. And I use the word "interesting" to be polite. I'm sure you've heard the expression "children are like sponges." Well, I recommend keeping that in mind every time your husband spews out hostile insults about your friends and family while Milania and Gabriella play with their Barbies in the living room. It's not hard to envision a future in which they'll look back on their childhoods and remember their father as a belligerent, wine-chugging lowlife who was as paternal as a chainsaw. And let's not leave out the therapy bills poor Gia will eventually have to pay after struggling with her own relationships while she's in her, let's say, late 20s, when her daddy issues come to the forefront. Also, if the previews of next Sunday's episode is any indication (10-year-old Gia learns to hate well-intentioned Uncle Joe, just like Mommy), then you have succeeded in creating your own little Mini Me and guaranteeing that Giudice family history will sadly repeat itself.
Speaking of your husband, I understand that you are loyal and committed to him, and you clearly take your vows seriously, standing by his side through thick and thin (and there's been a lot of thick). But girl, you need to be honest with yourself and be woman enough to acknowledge the tough times you've endured. Stop referring to his time in prison as "that period when he went away." You're fooling no one. Not talking about it isn't going to make the pain go away.
That said, I truly believe that you mean well. However, I also strongly believe that you are a very unhappy person who lives in a denial that's as thick as the marinara you drown your pasta and meatballs in. If you ask me, I know you know your relationship with your husband is strained. But what do you do about it? You bite someone's head off whenever someone reaches out to you, and then you proceed to project your insecurities on others by tearing them down and talking shit about their private lives. We hear (and see) you loud and clear.
There was some promise of seeing an authentic Teresa on the May 13 episode during which your brother, Joe Gorga, calmly tried to make peace and straighten things out between the two of you at Kathy's end-of-the-school-year pool party. You suddenly teared up out of the blue, and for those five seconds, we glimpsed the true Teresa, a hurt and confused wife and mother who doesn't know what to do with her marriage. But you won't admit it. You won't dare show us your vulnerable side. Instead, you wave your hands as if that will solve everything, call Joe "the worst brother in the world," and walk out of the pool party, which was intended to be a fun, innocent gathering for all of the kids. Another window of opportunity for you to genuinely release your frustrations and fears was wasted the second you uttered the words "I'm done" -- it's starting to become your catchphrase -- and ran away to go hide in your oversized SUV.
All of the cookbook deals and paid tabloid spreads in the world won't be able to alleviate the pain you keep suppressing. I truly hope the universe conspires in your favor and forces you to see that soon.
Mrs. Giudice, I'm sure you must have known what you were in for when you signed on for another season of Bravo reality (even if Andy Cohen held a knife to your throat and forced you to participate in a satanic ritual). So ditch the defensive attitude, suck up some responsibility, and get real.