She had the audacity to question my health. Not a simple “are you ok?”, but a condescending tone actually questioning my sanity. And only now. So I replied with a simple fuck off. Rude? Yes. Actually very, but what else was I going to do? Confide in her? Allow her to kiss my boo-boo’s like they do in Hollywood? Hell no. Because in reality that would never, ever, happen. Plus what good would it ultimately do.
I wouldn’t get compassion or empathy from such a confession, not as one would imagine anyway. It would be rather the opposite; another imperfection for them to make light off. Yet another lie or dramatic undertaking by my attention seeking self. My honesty in my mental deterioration would only serve as further ammunition for some war she’s been utterly intent on raging with.
It’s terribly challenging living under these circumstances. Living with such constant pressure and strain when at this moment I truly require quite the opposite. I mean should I ever want to recuperate and gain control back from my treacherous brain that is. And living with them, with her, watching how my presence just pains her so. How I am just the bane of her existence. Her kryptonite. Everything I do annoys her as does every little thing I don’t do.
Is it jealously perhaps?
Jealousy of what? The fact that I stay home and do nothing? (According to her that is.) Or maybe it’s because she feels so alone now that you’ve gone Maria? No one to talk to? Why! Welcome to my world! My entire life I’ve lived in that way dear. Never having a single soul to confide in because I didn’t know how to nor did I actually have anyone I could turn to. But now we must all drop to our knees and bow before her because she is the only one suffering. She is the only one in pain over your loss and to add to it she has to handle me on top of that. Oh woe is me! It’s a loud of rubbish and I am so sick of it. I am sick of walking on eggshells around her, biting my tongue and stringently editing each word that forms in my brain all in hopes of not pushing her further. But most of all I am sick of her pulling me up on my “faults” and telling me how worthless I am. As if worth is based purely on material things.
Taking out all her frustrations and anger on me. And, only me.
But then he turns up. The golden child. The favorite. Her mood instantly shifts when my brother comes hurdling into this house. My existence now somewhat bearable. Her disgust hidden away in a play to show that everything is a-ok. It’s all just an ugly farce. His presence here now drowns mine out and she is happy once again. No nit-picking or kerfuffles. All eyes are on him and only him. We’re like some “normal” family again, that is until he leaves and it’s back to those cold hard stares.
That constant nagging and digging for drama. It seems to be her life’s mission these days, looking, seeking and creating it when none is to be found. Unsettling the dust from previous battles and tearing open newly healed wounds.
“Why can’t you spend a mere five minutes without pointing out something so terrible?” I yelled.
Why can’t we just keep the peace I pleaded with her last night. Pointing out her flaws for a change. It wasn’t something I was proud of nor was it good to get off my chest, but I think I just reached my limit. As I have right now. Penning all this to you. After squashing all emotions and locking them away the immense volume of it all finally pushed back and burst free. Again. Why can’t we just remain in that God awful cocoon we’ve threaded and encased ourselves in our entire lives. A cocoon they taught us to weave, to keep to yourself and all. Ignore each other, it’s what they do best. Just going about one’s business and leave it at that. No talk, just silence. A silent prison they created and enslaved in. Pure denial.
At least until I manage to break free from this all and then they’ll never have to see me again.
I’ll no longer drown them with my unbearable presence. And all just so we can have some semblance of peace.