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(no subject)
Oh, my god, people. My mother.
She calls me tonight, all serious, and says she needs to talk to me, but not over the phone, in person.
So I'm like, okay.
See, they've had extraordinary good fortune lately--Rick's mom is moving from California to Arkansas, and they've bought their own piece of land. Which is awesome because it means they can move out from the land they were sharing with Robert and Debbie.
But apparently, Rick, my mom, and my brother Tommy all had a heart to heart tonight, and she found out that the reason why they've been unable to get caught up on anything and having so much trouble with their finances is because about 12,000 a year has been going to Robert and Debbie.
And so, apparently, it makes Mom feel really guilty because she's been picking fights over their monetary situation. And then, even though she had just told me that she wanted to talk in person, she starts blathering at me over the phone about how tired she is and how she wished she would just die because she was such a horrible person.
And that she wanted me to forgive Rick for everything he's done so we could all have a perfect relationship and be a happy family. And then she breaks down in tears for about 15 minutes.
No.
No.
For those of you who have read my journal for more than a couple of years, you know what this means to me.
For everyone else, let me just say:
Number eleven on my profile? Yep. That's him.
I think--I think--I've gotten over most of the damage that man has done to me, but I still remember.
I remember the beatings he used to give my mother. The drugs. The screaming. And even after the drugs and the domestic violence, the screaming fights that they would force me to mediate. The thousands of dollars I lent them to keep a roof over their head and utilities paid.
Eighteen years.
Eighteen years.
I do not hate him because he's made a couple of minor bad decisions over the last three years. That's old hat. That's normal. Yeah, he didn't have a contract drawn up, which set them up for tons of abuse. Yeah, he didn't tell Mom where all of their money was going. And yeah, no one listened to me when, three years ago, I told them that this was a bad idea.
I hate him because he psychologically abused me and physically abused my mother. I hate him because he stole my things to support his speed habit. I hate him for all the screaming matches we've had in my living room. I hate him for chasing me down the street screaming at me about how I was an ungrateful bitch when I had just paid their electric bill to keep their utilities on. I hate him because he used me like a confessional and because he dared to say he was in love with both my mom and me. I hate him because sometimes I remember how he kissed the back of my neck like it was a right and sometimes I remember the shock of how it felt and I feel sick.
I hate him. I hate him more than I could ever say or write.
And so she asked me to be her maid of honor at their wedding, and I said yes. Because I am an adult. I can handle it. I'm glad that things are easier for them.
He will never be part of my family.
I'm starting to hate my mother for forcing it.
She calls me tonight, all serious, and says she needs to talk to me, but not over the phone, in person.
So I'm like, okay.
See, they've had extraordinary good fortune lately--Rick's mom is moving from California to Arkansas, and they've bought their own piece of land. Which is awesome because it means they can move out from the land they were sharing with Robert and Debbie.
But apparently, Rick, my mom, and my brother Tommy all had a heart to heart tonight, and she found out that the reason why they've been unable to get caught up on anything and having so much trouble with their finances is because about 12,000 a year has been going to Robert and Debbie.
And so, apparently, it makes Mom feel really guilty because she's been picking fights over their monetary situation. And then, even though she had just told me that she wanted to talk in person, she starts blathering at me over the phone about how tired she is and how she wished she would just die because she was such a horrible person.
And that she wanted me to forgive Rick for everything he's done so we could all have a perfect relationship and be a happy family. And then she breaks down in tears for about 15 minutes.
No.
No.
For those of you who have read my journal for more than a couple of years, you know what this means to me.
For everyone else, let me just say:
Number eleven on my profile? Yep. That's him.
I think--I think--I've gotten over most of the damage that man has done to me, but I still remember.
I remember the beatings he used to give my mother. The drugs. The screaming. And even after the drugs and the domestic violence, the screaming fights that they would force me to mediate. The thousands of dollars I lent them to keep a roof over their head and utilities paid.
Eighteen years.
Eighteen years.
I do not hate him because he's made a couple of minor bad decisions over the last three years. That's old hat. That's normal. Yeah, he didn't have a contract drawn up, which set them up for tons of abuse. Yeah, he didn't tell Mom where all of their money was going. And yeah, no one listened to me when, three years ago, I told them that this was a bad idea.
I hate him because he psychologically abused me and physically abused my mother. I hate him because he stole my things to support his speed habit. I hate him for all the screaming matches we've had in my living room. I hate him for chasing me down the street screaming at me about how I was an ungrateful bitch when I had just paid their electric bill to keep their utilities on. I hate him because he used me like a confessional and because he dared to say he was in love with both my mom and me. I hate him because sometimes I remember how he kissed the back of my neck like it was a right and sometimes I remember the shock of how it felt and I feel sick.
I hate him. I hate him more than I could ever say or write.
And so she asked me to be her maid of honor at their wedding, and I said yes. Because I am an adult. I can handle it. I'm glad that things are easier for them.
He will never be part of my family.
I'm starting to hate my mother for forcing it.
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Oh, sweetheart.
*just hugs you and holds you*
She should be grateful that you bother to acknowledge his fucking existence at all. And a wedding? You are so much better than I am.
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*hugs you some more*
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I wish I knew what to say to make this better in any way possible.
You know, if there is *anything* I can do all you have to do is ask and it is done.
*Holds you and wishes she could run over certain people with a truck*
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