173: What Family Dynamic?
For the past several days, my father has been here in the apartment. I am not certain whether he has returned or not, but its certainly been an interesting test of everyone's feelings and attitudes around here.
I am glad to say that distance, though not making our hearts any fonder, has at least cooled and solidified the emotional distance between us, at least as far as me and my sister are involved. My mother, as always, is still pathetically desperate for his affection and company. According to her, there was never really anyone before him (only after), so it is understandable that she doesn't want to let him go. She probably also doesn't think she can get anyone else, due to her condition.
Though I am glad to say the "Lump" (as my Aunt calls him) is, at least, less confrontational now. He doesn't anger me, and there is even slightly less disgust; no, what he does now is creep me the hell out. For the longest time I couldn't quite put my finger on what annoyed/infuriated me so much about him, and the other night I think I finally realized what it was.
He walks into the kitchen as I'm in the livingroom, looking around and shaking his head with this condescending sort of smile--though his mouth is agape, so it's more of a leer. He looks over at me several times, giggling; and as he's leaving, he turns to look at me for a way-too-long moment, as if... I don't know. As if he's going to eat me, or something. (Remember, he has a *huge* stomach!)
I know this sounds slightly comical, but I literally shivered after he was back in my mother's room. His presence just makes me uncomfortable, and I'm finding it relatively easy to keep my mouth shut. I think my Aunt is right; it's not my responsibility. If my mother wants to stay with him, even when he's just obviously using her (he doesn't seem to have anywhere else to go right now; I wonder if he got kicked out of where he was staying these past months...)--well, that's her decision.
So, this is me officially not caring; I'm off to college, and thankfully, away from him forever. At least, I hope so. Again, maybe my Aunt is right, and one day ten years from now he'll look around and regret pushing his family away; maybe not, but I need to move on.
But I feel I must admit this: I am filled with shame. Not just that I am embarassed by my parents--there is a certain satisfaction in them being so messed-up; makes me look better, stronger, all that bullshit--but that I sometimes so desperately wish I had different parents. Or, maybe just a different father. Or perhaps, just different lives for them, and consequently, me and my sisters.
It is a suffocation I know they share--being stuck, going in circles, becoming more frustrated and depressed all the time. I hope that my going out of college, essentially escaping this, our mutual prison we call this dysfunctional family-life, will inspire the to do likewise. Actually, Crystal escaped it by moving out several years back; and I pray that Heather can do the same. At least for Anastasia's sake, if not her own. She's the one who wanted out first, long before she even turned eighteen. What she really needs is a better job, or certainly, more of an education, if that'll help her achieve that.
So, this is my family. A crippled mother, an abandoner of a father; with two sisters broken by bitterness. And how do I fit into that? Have I ever? Haven't I always been that one, the youngest, who not only longs to escape, but does it into his self? Did all that alarming self-repression actually protect me? In the end, as my Aunt says, we're all just "socially retarded". High school cured me of the worst of it; here's hoping college does the rest.
I am glad to say that distance, though not making our hearts any fonder, has at least cooled and solidified the emotional distance between us, at least as far as me and my sister are involved. My mother, as always, is still pathetically desperate for his affection and company. According to her, there was never really anyone before him (only after), so it is understandable that she doesn't want to let him go. She probably also doesn't think she can get anyone else, due to her condition.
Though I am glad to say the "Lump" (as my Aunt calls him) is, at least, less confrontational now. He doesn't anger me, and there is even slightly less disgust; no, what he does now is creep me the hell out. For the longest time I couldn't quite put my finger on what annoyed/infuriated me so much about him, and the other night I think I finally realized what it was.
He walks into the kitchen as I'm in the livingroom, looking around and shaking his head with this condescending sort of smile--though his mouth is agape, so it's more of a leer. He looks over at me several times, giggling; and as he's leaving, he turns to look at me for a way-too-long moment, as if... I don't know. As if he's going to eat me, or something. (Remember, he has a *huge* stomach!)
I know this sounds slightly comical, but I literally shivered after he was back in my mother's room. His presence just makes me uncomfortable, and I'm finding it relatively easy to keep my mouth shut. I think my Aunt is right; it's not my responsibility. If my mother wants to stay with him, even when he's just obviously using her (he doesn't seem to have anywhere else to go right now; I wonder if he got kicked out of where he was staying these past months...)--well, that's her decision.
So, this is me officially not caring; I'm off to college, and thankfully, away from him forever. At least, I hope so. Again, maybe my Aunt is right, and one day ten years from now he'll look around and regret pushing his family away; maybe not, but I need to move on.
But I feel I must admit this: I am filled with shame. Not just that I am embarassed by my parents--there is a certain satisfaction in them being so messed-up; makes me look better, stronger, all that bullshit--but that I sometimes so desperately wish I had different parents. Or, maybe just a different father. Or perhaps, just different lives for them, and consequently, me and my sisters.
It is a suffocation I know they share--being stuck, going in circles, becoming more frustrated and depressed all the time. I hope that my going out of college, essentially escaping this, our mutual prison we call this dysfunctional family-life, will inspire the to do likewise. Actually, Crystal escaped it by moving out several years back; and I pray that Heather can do the same. At least for Anastasia's sake, if not her own. She's the one who wanted out first, long before she even turned eighteen. What she really needs is a better job, or certainly, more of an education, if that'll help her achieve that.
So, this is my family. A crippled mother, an abandoner of a father; with two sisters broken by bitterness. And how do I fit into that? Have I ever? Haven't I always been that one, the youngest, who not only longs to escape, but does it into his self? Did all that alarming self-repression actually protect me? In the end, as my Aunt says, we're all just "socially retarded". High school cured me of the worst of it; here's hoping college does the rest.