Thursday, May 15, 2014

Tired of Pretending

Well, because I'm trying to change my attitude, at least in baby steps, I figured I might as well start off with the good news.  Good news is problem number 1 (the one that was in my mother's control) is fixed.  I don't know how, but I don't really care about the details because it was a very long night last night so all that really matters to me is that it is fixed and I am no longer miserable because of it.  Also good news is that problem number 2 (the one that was out of my mother's control) might be able to be fixed, but if it is fixable, it will be a very long limbo period before then...but hey, at least there's hope.  So yay for both of those things.

Unfortunately, that doesn't mean today has been a good one, though.  It's really not a good sign that I've only been home two weeks before realizing that I absolutely cannot wait to get out of this house, move to New York, and never look back.  My mother forced me to sleep on the couch last night because there's no other bed in the house still (which is also her fault), and I've been in even worse physical pain than I usually am because of it.  Not only have I not so much gotten an apology from her for being so awful to me last night (and pretty much all day today), she has yelled at me simply for wincing because walking hurts.  I haven't mentioned my pain until she's asked me things like why I'm wincing.  And then she yells at me for complaining all the time.

I am so tired of this.  I'm tired of not being able to tell my mom the way she makes me feel, because she'll either tell me to stop being a dramatic little brat and get over myself or start screaming at me about how I don't love or appreciate her enough and shut me out.  I'm tired of being the receptacle for her stress and anger and fear and frustration simply because she knows I'm always here and I'll always put up with it.  I'm tired of pretending like everything's fine when it's not, like she didn't hurt my feelings and me physically last night because of her stupid pride.  I'm tired of getting yelled at for things that are out of my control, and then be made to look like the bad guy when her boyfriend shows up.

But mostly, I'm tired of being hit day after day with the realization that no matter how valid or real my feelings may be, my mother will never stop seeing me as the same teenage brat that I used to be.  That no matter what I do, or the things I accomplish, I will still be the little kid who isn't capable of handling things the "proper" way (and proper in my mother's world is the way she would do it, and nothing else).  She may never treat me as an adult, or with the same level of respect that she treats Holly, which, I'll be honest, is ridiculous since I had to grow up a hell of a lot faster than either of them did and have, for a vast majority of the time, been able to look at situations and life far more rationally, intellectually, and all-in-all maturely than Holly has up until the last few years.  The only way to keep my mother happy and not yelling at me is to just pretend I am the kid she thinks I am so she can feel validated about being right about me and I can avoid the fights.  I'm tired of the fights.  But I'm also very tired of the pretending.

Please don't tell me some lines about how it's because I'm the baby and all babies get treated like this and that's how it is, because that may be "how it is", but that doesn't make it okay.  And this may have something to do with all the medical crap I've been through in my life and how much time she's had to devote to being my nurse, but that also doesn't make it okay because I've spent years of my life making sure my health problems and disabilities don't define me.  My mother has absolutely no idea who I really am or the way that I want and deserve to be treated, and I have tried every way I can think of to talk to her about it and nothing works.  So basically, I'm stuck in this same cycle of frustration until August comes and I can finally move on to the next stage of my life completely out and on my own, hundreds of miles away from the grasp of everything about this family that has weighed me down for as long as I can remember.

I love my mother, but I really need not to be here anymore.

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