Saturday, May 10, 2008

• another depressing blog about my family life. go me.

  i've come to think, in the last 37 minutes of pretending to be asleep that last night was foreshadowing.
  my dad giving me twenty dollars and telling me to get out of here for the day... more needed even than i previously suspected
  
  i was awoken this morning by the sound of screaming, hoisted involuntarily from my AP-week-induced coma... as i heard sheer terror running up the stairs followed closely by reckless anger.
  
  and so i buried my face in the covers and pretended to still be asleep. even after i found out that i was not the object of my mother's rage, which spreads like wildfire from one person to the next. it's perfectly true. she yelled at everyone who was awake throughout this little episode. and pretending to be asleep is easier than dealing with someone who has the temperament of an angry rhinocerous.
  
  and it was quite an experience... just listening to them like that, with a certain detachment... i felt like i was some random observer, a spy, peering through the dirtiest window i could find into this house at these broken people. because these things are secret. no one knows that these things go on here except the people i tell.
  michael and ryan don't know it's wrong, and though it's likely my stepfather would normally grumble about things like this to people at the office, i doubt he'd talk to anyone who might say anything that might get back to my mother.
  but i was like a blind observer, so all i could hear were their tones of voice... which was enough.

  michael had misplaced part of his boyscout uniform and he had some kind of little troop meeting. (he's gone now, it started at 8. and i don't hear anything, so i'm not sure if they all left, or just some of them..) and my mother was excessively angry.
  
  her anger was taken to such a level that michael was whimpering in fear and she was just endlessly, angrily driving her message into his little skull. which was "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT"
  
  and whenever something is someone else's fault... because it always  has to be... she can't simply stay on the track she's on and yell about that one thing even. she rants and raves like a lunatic. and this place is a locked insane asylum with no men in white coats to restrain anyone. there is no voice of reason and no escape.
  "you're all just a bunch of stupid fuckers! no one helps me with anything! i don't want a fucking mother's day present from you. all i want is for you to fucking do something around here and act like you love me!"
  and my other brother, who is four, said in the most heartbreakingly innocent voice ever,
  "i love you."  .... to which she said nothing.
  you would have had to have heard it to know why it broke my heart so much.. it was almost indignant... and the way he asserted himself against an absolute monster just to say how he really feels? well he's four. that might break anyone's heart.
  or maybe i simply felt that way because that's how i always used to feel when she'd accuse me of not loving her.
  i don't think she would say it anymore now because there's a 90% chance she's right most of the time.
  i'm not saying i've never felt a pang of daughterly affection for her every now and again... but those come about as often as leap years.
  
  it's hard to love someone who blames all of her problems on her children, her husband, everyone but herself. if you're 41 and this unhappy, some of it has to be your own fucking fault.
  
  i almost hope she stumbles upon my blog after i go away to college. and finds me by typing something absurd into google like everyone else does.
  
  i don't need sympathy right now though. or pity or.. anything like that. i could use affection, but i'm not holding my breath.
  

  • 8:23 AM
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