Not sleeping
If someone could explain to me why I'm not able to sleep tonight despite being exhausted, that would be great. I am working all of the time on reading and writing and I love to do both, but it's taking too much of my time and I'm missing too many people. Nana called me a few days ago because she hadn't heard from me, and it's sad because she's and her husband are the only grandparents left and I'm not talking to her (which translates into them) enough.
I've been realizing lately that I am less and less OK with Grandma dying this summer and it is of much greater impact than I'd been willing to admit. She was a wonderful person who waited many years to have a family, then cared so deeply for her daughters and my brother and I when we came... Then my aunt and I left. I came back but it was never the same and I never had the chance to make it right for her. I never will now.
She would tell me to make it right with my mother but I still can't. I'm not the one who did the wrong things, I'm just the one who said they were wrong and left. My aunt says I should make it right and be the bigger person but I'm not interested in playing the adult here even one more time. Her husband lies and mistreats us, and she allows it to happen, allows him to make her only daughter miserable at any chance he gets and so I do not go home. Grandma was one of the last reasons; while my brother is there he is too like his father, and too much for me to handle when he is here.
She told me they would pay on my loans and I did not ask for it, or push them to do it. She said they wanted to do it to help me, meanwhile forgoing any assistance I could use up front like car insurance or other parental things. He never sent the check in and let me feel indebted for months until the statement showed up and I warned my mother the check had not been credited to my account, and to see what was going on. She told me he'd not sent it because of my grandmother's death, not that there were extenuating expenses because she had already made all the arrangements (the most morbid of things I can think of) but because there would be less money coming in. Matter-of-factly. I need help and bills paid just the same as they do but I guess I just made that up. Life goes on.
I hate him. He'd love for me to owe them something. I'd rather die.
I am in love and it makes all of these bad things go away, at least most of the time. Sometimes I cannot help it, and think about my grandma and how proud she would have been to see me graduate and succeed in life, how I'd hoped to give her a comfortable place away from my mother's watchful eye and my brother's frustrating visits, but that's all gone now. Because she is. The same goes for those "parents" of mine, the ones who have failed to assist me into adulthood in any capacity because they were not willing for me to ever reach this stage. I have been here for some time now and can't fathom what life would be like if I were raised normally, without fear and anger always in the back of my mind, and the associated memories merged into the most horrid word I know, hate. I didn't always hate him, didn't know I could hate someone -- but then I recognized that the problems of our home, all the time spent crying and in anguish, all centered around his ignorance and pure meanness.
I wish my mother left him when the problems first surfaced and she threatened to leave in the first place. He wised up and only made me miserable then. And she could live with that, right?
I wish my grandma didn't have to die.
I've been realizing lately that I am less and less OK with Grandma dying this summer and it is of much greater impact than I'd been willing to admit. She was a wonderful person who waited many years to have a family, then cared so deeply for her daughters and my brother and I when we came... Then my aunt and I left. I came back but it was never the same and I never had the chance to make it right for her. I never will now.
She would tell me to make it right with my mother but I still can't. I'm not the one who did the wrong things, I'm just the one who said they were wrong and left. My aunt says I should make it right and be the bigger person but I'm not interested in playing the adult here even one more time. Her husband lies and mistreats us, and she allows it to happen, allows him to make her only daughter miserable at any chance he gets and so I do not go home. Grandma was one of the last reasons; while my brother is there he is too like his father, and too much for me to handle when he is here.
She told me they would pay on my loans and I did not ask for it, or push them to do it. She said they wanted to do it to help me, meanwhile forgoing any assistance I could use up front like car insurance or other parental things. He never sent the check in and let me feel indebted for months until the statement showed up and I warned my mother the check had not been credited to my account, and to see what was going on. She told me he'd not sent it because of my grandmother's death, not that there were extenuating expenses because she had already made all the arrangements (the most morbid of things I can think of) but because there would be less money coming in. Matter-of-factly. I need help and bills paid just the same as they do but I guess I just made that up. Life goes on.
I hate him. He'd love for me to owe them something. I'd rather die.
I am in love and it makes all of these bad things go away, at least most of the time. Sometimes I cannot help it, and think about my grandma and how proud she would have been to see me graduate and succeed in life, how I'd hoped to give her a comfortable place away from my mother's watchful eye and my brother's frustrating visits, but that's all gone now. Because she is. The same goes for those "parents" of mine, the ones who have failed to assist me into adulthood in any capacity because they were not willing for me to ever reach this stage. I have been here for some time now and can't fathom what life would be like if I were raised normally, without fear and anger always in the back of my mind, and the associated memories merged into the most horrid word I know, hate. I didn't always hate him, didn't know I could hate someone -- but then I recognized that the problems of our home, all the time spent crying and in anguish, all centered around his ignorance and pure meanness.
I wish my mother left him when the problems first surfaced and she threatened to leave in the first place. He wised up and only made me miserable then. And she could live with that, right?
I wish my grandma didn't have to die.