the arc of my grieving
My sister and I had a huge fight that turned physical, and now she's moved out with her boyfriend. I think I give up. I think this is it for us. Neither of us can keep our temper, and we just can't understand each other. She can't and won't understand me, and she seems to have decided she can lecture me and treat me like a doormat. I spent yesterday at a friend's house- bruise on my cheekbone, split lip, and bruises on my knuckles. Before I went there, I stopped at a gas station to fill my tank, and it was obvious everyone thought I had been in a fight with an abusive boyfriend. (Usually that would irritate me- the only reason a woman has been in a fight is because she's being beaten on? But I was feeling so emotionally drained I was empty of everything.) Fell asleep on their couch, and Patrick gave me a giant stuffed dog to cuddle and covered me with a blanket. I wish I could cry right. I can't stop tears from coming, but I can't wail anymore because I taught myself not to make a noise.
The night was probably the high point. We went to a friend's grill party and ate too many burgers and potato salad, listened to eighties music, played with her giant affectionate dog, and watched fireworks over the lake. At the end of the day I had yet another fight, though, this time with the manly super macho friend who kept telling me the only reason I was still alive after making him split his lip on accident was I was a chick. This was because I jokingly said "Just beat up John like I do!," which apparently enraged his sense of masculinity. I told him that I was going to let the comment stand, then. I refuse to walk on eggshells around someone else's bloated ego. I'm tired of not being allowed to stand up for myself. I'm just goddamn tired.
You know how, when you were really little, you would be able to cry and be upset and someone would hug you, just unrestrainedly? I want that. I want to be loved with no holding back. I don't think I'll ever get it.
The night was probably the high point. We went to a friend's grill party and ate too many burgers and potato salad, listened to eighties music, played with her giant affectionate dog, and watched fireworks over the lake. At the end of the day I had yet another fight, though, this time with the manly super macho friend who kept telling me the only reason I was still alive after making him split his lip on accident was I was a chick. This was because I jokingly said "Just beat up John like I do!," which apparently enraged his sense of masculinity. I told him that I was going to let the comment stand, then. I refuse to walk on eggshells around someone else's bloated ego. I'm tired of not being allowed to stand up for myself. I'm just goddamn tired.
You know how, when you were really little, you would be able to cry and be upset and someone would hug you, just unrestrainedly? I want that. I want to be loved with no holding back. I don't think I'll ever get it.