Do you ever think you might just run out of patience? Not with a person, or a situation, but with life and for good? Sometimes I think I burned through all of my ability to completely repress my feelings.
It’s like the concept that a person can only lie so many times before it becomes obvious.
But that’s assuming the person being lied to isn’t in some sort of denial. And aren’t we all?
I try not to be, but I try to do a whole lot and it rarely pans out. Which is my own fault. And, let me say, this word press might not exactly seem indicative of my general mental state. Most days (lately) I have been very happy.
I’ve always managed. I’ve always borne up under burdens too cumbersome for one person, much less a young person. But it’s because I always had to. And you end up resenting the idea that you had to. Like oh you struggled and fought and clawed your way to the brink of surviving….be grateful you get the same place as people who did NOTHING to get there. But, I guess we all have our disadvantages.
Yesterday, a coworker (a woman 10 years older) was saying something along the lines of having enjoyed getting a full ride scholarship because it meant not living with her parents. A different coworker (a guy 3 years younger) stated, “There’s so much parental love in this department.”
That was, most certainly, a comment directed at myself. I seriously couldn’t stop myself, I just laughed…somewhat in a way that might make some people uncomfortable, and was like “Yeeeah….” afterwards. No one said anything. It’s just not the kind of thing people want to ask about, because they don’t want to hear the answer (they suspect…correctly). No one wants to know why someone who in all other regards seems completely normal and sane would excommunicate her parents.
Speaking of, and when am I not, my mom has been backsliding in an interesting way. For a long time, I want to say close to a year, she’s been careful to never really mention my dad or brother. But the last two emails from her brought up your typical dickish behavior he’s always exuding. What were they? The first was her mentioning that her choice of television program is constantly criticized. Coming from my dad, a person’s who entire waking life is spent staring at a TV. He doesn’t work, he does nothing at home to make up for it, his days are consumed entirely by watching TV, taking naps and getting fucked up. And then, he finds it SO necessary to march into a different room of the house and tell my mom whatever she’s watching (it’s mostly different reality shows, but more Dancing with the Stars and HGTV than Real Housewives) is puerile garbage. EVERY reality show is staged, everything is fake, it’s all stupid and NOT funny…okay you see this bothers me. He’s this same way with eating. His opiate problem funnels right into his eating problem, because they make you crave sugar something fierce. But…oh my god….I CANNOT tell you the number of times my dad came into the living room (he spent/spends his evenings in the family room, so they’re both always in the same house but never ever together, separate bedrooms of course) to see my mom eating ice cream, to start FREAKING out over it. Like….there are actually girls who grew up with dads who DIDN’T belittle and harrangue their moms over eating ice cream? There were parents who didn’t get into a screaming match if ice cream was being eaten? Like…I still feel it sometimes. The weird shame over eating anything that isn’t a raw vegetable. Because…idk what kind of hypocrisy-meets-controlling-behavior-101 this is exactly but he wanted to control how we looked, all three of us. I’m not saying he was like “You can’t wear a skirt that short” I mean he lectured me about how fat I was getting on more than one occasion when I was a teenager. And I wasn’t at all fat. I’ve never been extraordinarily thin, either. I was probably a size 10 or so through most of high school.
And then I didn’t finish this post….it’s actually now the day after, and I don’t feel like getting into negative thinking because I’m going to take the opportunity I have this morning to write.
I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this or not, but I can’t really write if my husband is home. Unless he’s in the garage where his free weights are. But if he’s in the house, I get this rage-anxiety over the idea that I don’t have writer-privacy. And then I get mad at him. So it’s best to just get it done when I have time alone. Which I did NOT see a lot of when he wasn’t working. It pretty much guaranteed that he would be here.
But I should be going. It’s a gloomy spring day, but a spring day none the less. The forsythia is pretty much gone, but the lilacs are out. The tiny-apple trees are in full bloom, and because it rainy and windy, their tiny white and pink petals are everywhere. I don’t understand why people are so obsessed with the fall. The spring is way better, AND it’s not a prelude to winter, but in fact a warmer season. How is that not better? Don’t bring up Halloween because if you have a sober spouse you REALLY start noticing how everything is always geared towards drinking.
Have a good weekend