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Apr. 18th, 2008
Post Mama-Drama
Apr. 18th, 2008 05:09 pmI haven't seen my mother in over a year.
I did not go to my grandmother's funeral purely because I did not want to see my mother there. We spoke twice on the phone in the months following but I have had no contact with her whatsoever since moving out here.
And yet I can still hear her voice in my head any time I try to sit down and sort my life out.
I was thinking today that really, I'm not doing such a bad job. My upstairs is going to be finished by summer, and it is going to bring me income. That's pretty much a fact. Everything is going according to plan, and it would take something pretty major to derail it at this point. I'm not in any kind of weird relationship with anyone - I hang out with the people I work with, and that's while we're at work, and, sometimes, after work, but that's it. I take all the medications I'm supposed to and don't take anything I'm not. I even made an appointment to start physical therapy at the end of May (of course, earliest date I could possibly get.)
This is pretty much a thousand percent improvement in my life. I'm not relying on anyone else to bail me out, and I'm not damaging myself in any way. But all I can hear is her voice, telling me "you'll never be able to do [whatever], [whatever] won't work, [so-and-so] is just making that up, they won't really help you, blah blah blah."
When I look back at my life, I kind of re-realize all over again just how badly my parents did me dirty. And the thing that blows my mind the most is that they think they're fucking saints and that they're so wonderful to have put up with so much shit from me and that they tried so hard but I was just so bad...
Every so often I really work myself into a frenzy about this stuff. It just all makes me so furious. I know parents make mistakes. Nobody's perfect. But to fuck up that badly and not even think you did anything wrong?
I know I'm really stubborn, and I know I'm really proud, to a fault, and I know those aren't positive characteristics. But I was also a fucking kid, and, I swear, I was legitimately disturbed in the head, and, if there's anyone out there in that wide cold world who should have cut me just a little bit of slack, well, I'd say my supposedly-loving parents should have been my best bet.
Of course to hear them tell it I'm sure it's a different story entirely.
But it's my damn story, and right now, I almost hate them both.
I did not go to my grandmother's funeral purely because I did not want to see my mother there. We spoke twice on the phone in the months following but I have had no contact with her whatsoever since moving out here.
And yet I can still hear her voice in my head any time I try to sit down and sort my life out.
I was thinking today that really, I'm not doing such a bad job. My upstairs is going to be finished by summer, and it is going to bring me income. That's pretty much a fact. Everything is going according to plan, and it would take something pretty major to derail it at this point. I'm not in any kind of weird relationship with anyone - I hang out with the people I work with, and that's while we're at work, and, sometimes, after work, but that's it. I take all the medications I'm supposed to and don't take anything I'm not. I even made an appointment to start physical therapy at the end of May (of course, earliest date I could possibly get.)
This is pretty much a thousand percent improvement in my life. I'm not relying on anyone else to bail me out, and I'm not damaging myself in any way. But all I can hear is her voice, telling me "you'll never be able to do [whatever], [whatever] won't work, [so-and-so] is just making that up, they won't really help you, blah blah blah."
When I look back at my life, I kind of re-realize all over again just how badly my parents did me dirty. And the thing that blows my mind the most is that they think they're fucking saints and that they're so wonderful to have put up with so much shit from me and that they tried so hard but I was just so bad...
Every so often I really work myself into a frenzy about this stuff. It just all makes me so furious. I know parents make mistakes. Nobody's perfect. But to fuck up that badly and not even think you did anything wrong?
I know I'm really stubborn, and I know I'm really proud, to a fault, and I know those aren't positive characteristics. But I was also a fucking kid, and, I swear, I was legitimately disturbed in the head, and, if there's anyone out there in that wide cold world who should have cut me just a little bit of slack, well, I'd say my supposedly-loving parents should have been my best bet.
Of course to hear them tell it I'm sure it's a different story entirely.
But it's my damn story, and right now, I almost hate them both.
