A week ago we had an altercation because I tried to rationalize why my father did not take my adult sister home from an accident scene. She had already called her off again-on again boyfriend to the scene … before she even called our father, and then called my mother, crying, to inform her he’d abandoned her. Its all a twisted weave of lies and assumptions, though, because I tried to rationalize aloud why he’d even do such a thing, she waved me off and stomped downstairs. Its important to note that I don’t handled ‘emotional’ situations like a majority of my family. They are something along the lines of drama queens whereas I kind of tried to use logic and maybe ‘the other shoe’ perspective. I’m often labeled a bitch and hateful because of this. This situation was no different. Because I tried to piece together why he’d leave (mainly due to my mother telling me he’d called and let her know his tires were also balding ((we had a bit of heavy snowdrift))), my mother became angry at me. I went downstairs because one of my things to work on for 2010 is talking things out. I’ve only ever tried to please to this woman, and its always to no avail. She tells me she’s through with the conversation and with me. I refused to leave it at that though and attempted to talk it out. Despite the fact that no one was injured (with exception to my sister receiving a small cut on her lip)I apparently didn’t react emotionally enough. I didn’t cry and scream and run amuck. I didn’t call the police and the nearest preacher so therefore I am ‘hateful’. By not showing a proper amount of dramatic zeal, I showed that in my heart of hearts I wished my sister and niece had died a horribly bloody and cold death on the slushy interstate. So I asked her point blank to just answer this: Are you projecting your anger with Dad onto me because I tried to rationalize/assume why he’d leave the scene without her? Yes. So you hate me because you think I’m siding with Dad? No answer, she instead goes into some spiel of how she didn’t even get mad when he called her with that ‘shitload’. Yet … she’s not denying she hates me for trying to rationalize the situation? I didn’t understand so I took a deep breath and placed a brow to my head. She mocked me in response and screamed, “Yeah, yeah … nobody understands you, boo-hoo.”

I still can’t grasp why she’s so hateful. Not denying and smirking over the fact that I felt she was projecting hatred onto me really did hurt my feelings. And this is exactly why I keep myself at a safe, emotional distance from my family. If you don’t conform to their every thought or agree with they’re extreme solution to simple problems, they lash out at you. I’m so tired … literally drained with dealing with her and my sister. I don’t have anything left to give. The same night of that argument I slipped, hard. I tried to calm myself by taking a long walk, as the snow did make for a calming backdrop. Though refreshing, it did little to quell my nervous state. I understand wholeheartedly that my mother is helping me out greatly by allowing me to stay with her, and unemployed no less. But, I am not a lazy person. Not by any means. Since she moved out of the family home three years ago, her new townhome has always been in a nasty, disheveled state. Since my moving in back in October, the place has been transformed. I take pride in keeping her home clean. It makes me feel good. But it doesn’t seem to matter at all with her. Its as if she feel she’s warranted to treat me like third-rate shit when it suits her. So you’re having a bad day? No problem, treat your daughter who’s basically your maid, errand runner, accountant, and personal chef like shit when you get home.

I almost slit my wrist later that evening. I felt trapped, almost claustrophobic, because I knew I had no place to go. I gave up my apartment three months after quitting my job and for the first time in years I was dependent upon someone else. I couldn’t stay with my father, as originally planned, because ‘lo and behold, my sister decided she no longer wanted to pay rent and moved in with him, knowing full well I’d intended to do so. I can’t live with someone like her. She’s disgusting, and I don’t care if I’m judged for disliking my sister. She sleeps until noon if you let her, she NEVER cleans up after herself, and she allows her daughter to break, mess, steal, FLUSH everything. She never replaces what was destroyed and she treats everyone as if its their moral obligation to raise her child. I don’t have a child, obviously, but you don’t have to push something out of your vagina to know how to care for a child. In most, males and females, it’s an instinct.

I keep going off topic, likely because I’m still rattled. Back to the crux of the matter. My last response to this overload of drama was to ‘get away’. I’d attempted suicide once, almost five years ago, and it was after a huge fight with my mother. She’s a very coarse woman. Insensitive, inconsiderate, sharp-tongued, and uncaring to a fault. Still, she’s my mother. And because of this I fear I’ll always have some incessant need to make her like me. Its sick and demeaning, but it’s a hurdle I’m working on. Because of that, I often fall into bouts of depression or anger. I didn’t slit my wrist that night, obviously, but I did try to be proactive about the situation. To say the least, it was pretty funny … to me. When I attempted to call the suicide prevention hotline (I wanted to see about any housing offered), the entire intro was in Spanish … and it was like two minutes long. So much for taking advanced French courses in high school. Then there were the number prompts. They each sent me to dead ends. Oh, the irony. This at least made me laugh, and sober up a bit. I told myself it wasn’t the end of the world, and I instead checked the local classifieds for rooms for rent and part-time jobs. I did this for an entire week, and only spoke to my mother when completely necessary. I also still kept her home spotless.

This brings me to some dark introspection. Am I a damned masochist?! Why do I feel the need to gain her ‘love’, when it seems to mean so little to her anyhow? Why do I make myself sit by and watch her interact with my mooching sister and feel the need to cry because despite the lying, stealing, mooching, and drama … she all but glows under the attention of my sister. Why? I can’t even hold a conversation with at some point the sentence, “You’re just full of useless knowledge, aren’t you?”, popping up? When I talk to her, she watches the television or ‘zones out’. She’s always disinterested even when I try to pick a mutual subject. She’s bored. I bore her. Yet, my sister can call to ask why her vagina itches (I’m serious, dead serious) and it spawns into an hour long conversation. You can’t bear to talk to me about a book, but, your daughter’s obvious lack of personal hygiene is the most enthralling tête-à-tête? Seriously?

They make fun of the way I talk. Stop using big words! They accuse me of always being overly-sensitive. It’s a compliment, men like thick girls!  Stop being so sensitive! Honestly, after hearing something over and over again who doesn’t begin to become annoyed with being criticized? The worst part is slowly allowing those things to sprout weeds in your mind. The worst part is allowing people to walk all over you because in the back of your mind you begin to think: Yeah … I am being overly-sensitive. Or, Yeah … I should try to talk like them.

I just don’t want to be here any longer. I love my little brother with all my heart. Hell, if I did ever spawn a ‘mini me’, I’d want a child just like him. But, at some point I need to please me, and not everyone else. At some point I need to overcome this obsession with gaining the love of a woman who seems to take me for granted.