Twisted Opiate Brain

It's amazing how something I was looking so forward to a couple of weeks ago has now become something that I am dreading more than anything. All I wanted to do is go see two of my favorite bands perform on the same stage. That's all. Then my life blew up and I had to worry about how that was going to happen, but at first, it seemed like I could make it work. Then no hotel, no place to stay and two of the people I love the most pulling me in two different directions to the point where I feel like I am being physically torn apart. I resign myself to the fact that the concert can't happen, and my mom half assed makes possible plans to go to my sister's. Then Mel decides the day before the concert that hey, maybe we can still go and stay at my dad's. So I tell mom this but I also tell her DO NOT CANCEL YOUR PLANS JUST FOR THIS, IF YOU WANT TO GO TO LISA'S, GO. But of course she doesn't listen and gets pissed and cancels and has now cut me out of her life. She's still watching Iris tomorrow but I'm honestly afraid of how she's going to treat her. If there's any living creature in this situation who doesn't deserve to be treated badly, it's my dog. She did nothing wrong. Realistically, neither did I, and my mother overreacts to everything that happens in the most negative way she can think of, but...I understand, I'm a human being, I can cope with her being rude to me. If she treats my dog badly...there will be hell to pay. I'm not even sure I WANT to go to the concert anymore because I'm afraid of the repercussions. I wish sometimes that I could just cut my mother out of my life, I know she's toxic and treats me like shit, but she's also my mother and I'm the only one of my siblings who ever does anything for her. Translation: I do everything for her and she still treats me like I'm the scum of the Earth. I don't get it. But it's a repeating pattern in my family. Janice did everything for Grandma Betty, Grandma Betty treated Janice like crap and acted like she hated her. Mom (and I) did everything for Granny, Granny treated us like crap and acted like she hated us. Now I'm the one doing everything for my mother and she acts like she hates me and wants nothing to do with me unless she needs something from me. She hates Mel simply because Mel is with me. There is no other explanation. She's pissed that someone came along who is willing to stand up to her on my behalf and loves me for who I am in spite of how fucked up I am.  That's what all of this boils down to, really. I have someone who I love and who loves me and that takes me away from being mommy's lapdog every second of every day. I'm 35 goddamn years old and still she treats me like I'm 16. If it were up to her I'd sit at her house with no job and wait on her and spend every waking moment with her. Too bad I grew up, huh? Too bad I have my own life. Too bad you can't control me anymore like you've always tried to. I know you hate that I don't just roll over and let you treat me like a whipping boy anymore. You say that's how Mel treats me, but look in the mirror for once. Maybe then you'll see the truth. That as bad as you think Mel is, as controlling as you think she is and as much as you think she treats me like shit, you are far worse. I love you, mom, but you're an emotionally unstable and abusive woman. You have been in some ways since I moved back home from Canada, and even at some points before that. I wish I could change you. I wish I could change the whole situation. I wish that I could make you see what you do to me without screaming in your face and saying things that are better left unsaid. But even if I did scream in your face and tell you how I really feel, would you hear me? I don't think you would. All you would say is "Mel put you up to this. Mel turned you against me. Mel put all of these ideas in your head." No, she didn't. I am finally realizing that the way you treat me is destroying me from the inside out. I don't want to cut you out of my life. I don't want to turn my back on you. I don't want to lose my mother (and my whole family along with you) but...I don't know how much longer I can take the constant guilt trips, the emotional abuse, the attempt to control my every move. Why do you care if my bedroom is organized? Why do you care if my living room is tidy? Why do you care if my kitchen is clean? You said yourself you're never coming to my house again. So what does it matter? You say you want me to be happy, but what you mean is you want me to be happy if me being happy means breaking  up with Mel and coming back home to live under your thumbrulescontroltyranny roof. And I'm sorry, that's not going to happen. You're not going to win this round. So please learn to accept who I am and who I love. Because if you don't...you won't have me around much longer, I promise.

I give up. All you motherfuckers who have tried so hard to break me all these years, congratulations. I have nothing left to give. The only reason I won't simply end things is because that's not fair to my puppy. She needs her mommy. She is the only thing I have to live for. Once she's gone...I'm gone too. Fuck this shit.

Just how stupid do you think I am?

I'm starting to seriously question the past five and a half years of my life. I wanted to believe that I was special...that I was important, and the past week has proven to me that I am, in fact, not. They say distance makes the heart grow fonder, but instead I find that it's more "out of sight, out of mind" unless it's convenient to have someone to get sympathy from. Who cares how I feel, what I want? No one, basically. And it hurts. I can't be bought. I can't be shoved aside until you feel like you need a shoulder to cry on. If I am nothing more than a way to "escape" from living with your parents (which was in fact the way you described it when you first moved here....90% to get away from mom and dad, 10% because you wanted to be closer to me...your exact words), then I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore. I'm not even convinced that you really miss me...I think you miss NOT being around your mother, and coming back to me gets you away from her again. To be honest, I feel like a bit of a fool. I fell for everything...every I love you, every I need you, every I miss you...but when it comes right down to it, I can't help but wonder, was it all a lie? Am I truly as stupid as you seem to think that I am? I don't know. What I do know is this past week has proven to me that yes, I may be sad without you, but deep down, I'm okay. That's not the lesson you wanted me to learn, I'm sure, but that's what I'm taking away from this. When (not if, because I don't believe anymore that this can last...) you leave me for good, I will be okay. I'll cry and my heart will break, but my world and my life will go on. Maybe I should just make the first move myself...but I'm just stupid enough to give you one more chance.

Dear Mom,

Dear Mom,

It must be awful to have a daughter as horrible as me. I've let you down in so many ways you've probably lost count by now, but let me see if I can refresh your memory.

I'm fat.

I'm a lesbian/bisexual.

I'm never going to give you grandchildren.

I didn't finish college.

I'm a "liar" about everything.

I "use" you for your laundry and your credit cards.

I don't include you in everything that I do.

I won't leave my fiancee and move back in with you when you "leave dad."

My apartment is a mess even though you just helped us clean it six months ago, giving up "all of your weekends" to make it presentable.

I'm irresponsible about everything.

I dare to put myself first about once every 3-6 months, if that.

I contributed to Granny's death in some way, shape or form involving a UTI and some other bullshit I can't quite recall at this point.

I don't try hard enough to lose weight.

I lack commitment in every aspect of my life.

I'm lazy.

My car is always a mess.

I'm sure that I'm leaving things out, but I guess you can see my point by now. How could you possibly live with yourself knowing that you birthed such a horrible, wretched person? I mean...I bend over backwards to try and do whatever I can to make your life easier, I do (almost) whatever you ask of me as soon as you ask it, I listen to you cry and rant and get angry about everything (including my own father, brother, sister, fiancee), let you have your pity parties and do whatever I can think of to cheer you up, I encourage you to do things for yourself because I know you can even when you think you can't, I come to see you every day before work and sometimes on the weekends, run errands for you even when I feel like shit, trust you with (almost) all of my deepest, darkest feelings and love you with all my heart, but...it's just not enough, is it? It's just not enough. I really wish that I could understand what more I need to do to make you see that all I want is to make you happy, to make your life easier. I'm sorry that I'm such a failure at everything. I'm sorry that you have such a horrible daughter. I'm sorry that I don't own a house like my brother and sister, that I don't have a grandchild for you (besides Iris, but I guess she doesn't count for much, does she?) like Rick does with Lucy and someday will have with his own children, I'm sorry that I didn't finish school and get a great career like Lisa...I'm sorry...I don't know what else to say besides I'm sorry for existing. Sometimes, especially times like right now when you're pissed at me over nothing at all, I really wish I didn't exist. I feel like it would make your life easier if I just disappeared, and I guess all I can say there is I'm sorry that I can't do that for you, either. I just suck at everything and I always will. Maybe someday I'll find the strength to disappear from your life. Maybe someday you'll forgive me for being such a fucking failure at everything that I do. Maybe someday I'll be good enough for you. Maybe someday...but not today. And today, my heart is breaking because I honestly cannot figure out what I've done wrong.

You wouldn't even say you loved me when I picked my puppy up tonight. How the fuck do you think that makes me feel?

I don't get it. What more do you want from me? Blood? Tears? You get these things every day. But it's not enough...

...I am not enough. I will never be enough. I suppose I can accept that...even if it hurts like hell.

Love always and with the deepest of apologies,
Your failure, Erica

Fuck.

I want to not be a horrible person. I do. I truly, really do. But sometimes I can't help it. This may be one of those times, but maybe not? I don't know. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel right now. It's just another karmic punch in the face from where I'm sitting, but I realize that sounds childish and selfish. I mean, the entire universe can't be out to get me, right? Right.

It was hard enough for me to come to terms that this fat fucking piece of shit who actually said that he views me as a non human because I'm a lesbian was going to have a baby, something that I've always wanted and lost the singular opportunity I had to make that dream come true. I struggled with how unfair that fact was for months after I heard the news. But eventually I thought ok, I don't know his wife, maybe she deserves to have a baby and be a mother even though she clearly has zero taste in men because she married one of the most vile human beings I have ever had the displeasure of being forced to associate with. *ahem*

Then today I come back from a four day weekend to find that the baby had been born...yesterday. A little girl. Ouch, that hurts. Named Eleanore. Eleanore Rose. Excuse me while I try to swallow this giant lump in my throat oh fuck it won't go away why that middle name WHY WHY WHY?

And then I had to SEE him looking all smug and happy tonight when I went to get water on my break. At least I got to pretend that I didn't see him and didn't have to talk to him. Because fuck. Thank you, universe. I suppose I should be happy that my entire nightmare didn't come true and they didn't name her Trinity Rose because then I just might have offed myself. So fuck you very much, karma, fate, whatever higher power it is that I so wronged. And touche.  How much longer will I be paying for a crime that I'm not entirely convinced I committed?

The Wednesday that was More Like a Friday

So! It may be Wednesday for most people, but for me, for this week anyway, it's FRIDAY!!!!!!!! The Friday of my work week, anyway. When I leave here tonight I am getting in my car, driving home, loading up Mel's car and then we are hitting the road for Poughkeepsie. I would love to have time to take a shower tonight after work, but because we're kinda busy and kinda short staffed, that's looking like it may not be practical lest we get on the road at 1:30am, and I really don't want that since I've been up since 8am and am fucking sick as a dog right now. Goddamn cold going around my department at work, I can't seem to NOT get every cold/flu/stomach bug that goes around this place. Bleh. BUT! No cold or flu is going to stop me from enjoying my COBHC weekend. I am so fucking excited for these concerts.

Anyway, work beckons...I shall try to keep up this weekend on posting.

Listen, Fatass

If you didn't insist on eating a snack, then dinner, then cookies, then cake, then more cookies, then more cake, maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't puke your guts out into the trash can in the bathroom at work and be so embarrassed about it because you actually knocked the bag off the can and puked directly INTO said can that you had to clean it up with bare hands and feel grossed out for the rest of the night because you touched your own vomit. Maybe. And maybe if you didn't eat like a pig to the point of making yourself puke a) you wouldn't be such a fucking fatass and b) your mother wouldn't accuse you of actively being bulemic. So fucking stupid. So, so fucking disgustingly stupid.