Chains of crying jags
A theme of my life over the past few months has been “please tell me how you feel, what kind of support you need, so exactly the opposite is done.”
Today my mother, already on my nerves from Tuesday’s rearrangement, bore the brunt of the push back. It was raining, I grumbled my windows were cracked. Mom asked if I wanted dad to go put my windows up. I said no, the damage was done, I’d just live with it.
Then she asked where my car keys were.
I screamed no like I was getting felt up against my will.
I am done with people telling me what’s they want me to do under the guise of it being what’s best for me.
I am done with being asked for my input and it being summarily dismissed.
I am done with people yelling at me over things I can’t control.
I cried as I gathered my work clothes together, all through my shower, and kid came in when I was done getting ready to tell me my crying was annoying. Which made me cry harder and tell her I was sorry, I’m a horrible mom. She threatened to lock me in the bathroom until I said Pokemon was the best tv show and I was the best mom.
I only came out of the bathroom because I had to go to work. Which she also tried to say I was staying home from.
I cried on the way to work, tired of everything I touch turning to shit. Put me in charge; it will crumble and fall. Always.
I almost cried at Fight Club thanks to an asshole. Usually I’m numb to them but as raw as I am… I teared up while waiting for my pizza. I cried all the way home.
I got home to a power outage. Kid is terrified of them. I tried to get her to have flashlight pizza with me. No dice. Glued to my mother.
I may sleep in the car tonight. Besides phone charger access, I still don’t want to see my mother.