Although my life isn’t quite as frightening as Five Nights at Freddy’s, I feel like I can definitely give it a run for its money.
So here we are on evening number five being home alone. The first three nights Mom was working evenings at the hospital, yesterday she stayed at Asshat’s new shit apartment and today (while at a school function for my oldest niece) she tells me she’s staying at Asshat’s again.
Listen, I’m not one of those clingy dependent kids that can’t stand being alone. But right now I’m in a bad funk. I mean, not even a funk – call a spade a spade – I’m in a bout of depression. I think it’s just going to take some time to get used to this Celexa.
Anyway, Mom knows I’m having a hard time. I actually talked to her on the first night she worked the hospital. I was crying and told her it was depressed and difficult to be alone in the evenings. You would think that would make her worried or something, but she’s not. I don’t know, I try not to be so selfish about it, but there’s a lot of issues with my mom. Not only with me, but with my two older sisters as well.
I’m closer with my mom than my sisters and I think that has caused a bit of jealousy on their part toward me. I think the difference in relationship is due to the age difference – my oldest sister is 17 years older than me and my middle sister is 14 years older. Coming into Mom’s later life made a difference because she was already established with her career and also my dad was her second marriage and treat’s me a lot better than Big and Middle’s dad treated them. Mom, though…there’s just something wrong with her? I don’t know. She’s hilarious. Unintentionally hilarious, which I think is the best sort. But she’s just…emotionally detached. Her mom, my granny, was the same way Big and Middle say. I was fairly young when she died, so I didn’t really grasp that detachment out of her yet.
I distinctly remember feeling very depressed as a teenager and trying to talk to Mom about it. Instead of listening or letting me talk about it, she paid me $20 to leave the house. I don’t know why I keep letting myself get upset over her. I guess I just want her – just once – to set other things aside for me, especially at a time when I’m struggling. Or for god’s sake, at least have the decency not to stay at Asshat’s apartment for two nights in a row when you know I’m struggling. Like that isn’t a lot to ask for.
I don’t know. I’ve had a lot of reflection on my relationship with my parents the past two days. On Thursday, my best friend’s biological father was found dead from heroin overdose. My best friend was adopted by his capital-d Dad when we were quite young, but still I think he held on to hope that his lowercase-d dad would patch things up with him and turn his life around. The last time he talked to his dad, they were supposed to meet up. His dad never showed up. Understandably, he’s quite conflicted.
It just made me reflect on the relationship I have with my parents. I guess I’ve just come to the realization that they’re my parents. And they’ll always be my parents. They’re just human and sometimes make hurtful decisions, but they still made me and for the most part made sure I was taken care of. I’m fat enough to prove they fed me. I’m not an alcoholic, I’m not a drug addict, and I’m only on 10mg of Celexa, so they did an okay job.
But also I’m an adult. And realizing that and the freedom that comes with that helps me to know I can distance myself if I need to. It would take a lot for my to completely cut a family member out and we’re not talking anything near as drastic, but like…I think I need distance for a healthy brain. I think I would feel better being alone if it was self-inflicted and I was living alone rather than living with someone else and feeling forgotten.
I feel silly for saying that. Silly and childish. But that’s the reality of how I feel.