(no subject)
My mother bit me.
That seems like a joke or an attempt at Oedipal humor. It isn't. She bit me. She bit me because I took her morphine away. It left the telltale bruise, purple, red and black complete with teeth marks right where my left arm meets my torso. It hurt like a motherfucker. It was awkward. It was probably one of the worst experiences of my life. This was right before knocking me down and then me having to subsequently tackle her to keep her from running off into the night to be picked up by whatever whacked out middle aged white chicks she runs with. Bunch of pill popping drunks cruising for cock and booze at shitty dance clubs. I was trying to keep her from leaving so she would have to deal with reality. If I learned one thing from watching my mother, it is that if you run from pain and reality instead of just dealing with it, your soul rots and your character fades.
My mother bit me. Who the fuck bites people? Psychotic white trash fucking junkies that's who. I'm too goddamn arrogant and snobby to have that shit in my blood.
My fucking mother fucking goddamn bit me.
I mean, think about it. My mother bit me. This was after a couple of hours of verbal assaults and arguing. It was after she bolted out the back door and tried to jump the privacy fence and failed. This was one of the most fucktarded things I'd ever seen in my life.
It started off with the family simply telling her she had a problem. She placated us. Then, I went for the cabinet. I always knew one day I would have to clean out the cabinet. The proverbial shit hit the fan. When I found the morphine, she went apeshit. She actually said, "Keith, people don't abuse morphine." This is perhaps the dumbest thing I have ever heard.
"What the hell did you just say to me? This ain't my first rodeo, mom. I worked at a methadone clinic. I studied pharmacology in school. I taught goddamned drugs and behavior in grad school. Don't try to bullshit me like I'm some country bumpkin."
She told me I was a grand crusader and that I was only doing this because I was an arrogant know it all. I said that might be so, but she's a junky.
She tried to hide a bottle of wine. She's an idiot, so it wasn't hard to figure out where it was. I poured it out. Told her this was like dealing with Evil Grandpa all over again. She took offense to that. She said I was pissing her off. I told her I've never pissed off anyone on accident.
Darvocet. Morphine. Soma and a host of other muscle relaxers. A bevy of benzodiazepines. An adderal-like psychostimulant. Scores of unidentified pills. This is just what she had in her house. This isn't whatever it is the cops buster her with during her DUI arrest a few days prior. She was charged with possession of a controlled substance. She had a vial of miscellaneous pills. She probably doesn't even know what they were. She's a walking goddamn labrat.
My mother bit me. What kind of a grown person bites other people? How do you look back on that and not think you're shithouse insane?
I'd seen it before. Taking the drugs and booze away from an attic threatens their very survival. They get desperate. I've seen it all before. I know how bad morphine addiction is. I know how bad the withdrawals are. She isn't going to make it. She isn't going to get better. I can't make her. Everyone else will believe what they want to believe. They'll take the path of least resistance. They want to think she'll have an ephiphany and just stop. I've seen it too much. I know her too well. She's fucked. I'll do what I have to do and what I'm good at- I'll be an asshole. Relentless. Blunt. Leave her no place to hide.
I've done her a disservice, I told her, but not being honest. By not confronting her when I suspected. By trying to avoid conflict. By going against my nature. I won't do that anymore.
No one else in my family can do it, but I can be the bad guy. It won't be hard. She disgusts me right now. I realized that night how true what I told my clients at the clinic was. Addiction negates your identity and your self. I can't think of a worse fate than to lose your self.
My mother bit me. That little lady who dropped me off at kindergarten and taught me to keep time so I could dance and play music. The little lady who would tell me how smart and wonderful I was when the kids at school would beat the shit out of me for having warts and just generally being a weirdo. That lady. She bit me.
My mother bit me. And all I can think is, that lady is a fucking junky cunt.
Motherfuck.
That seems like a joke or an attempt at Oedipal humor. It isn't. She bit me. She bit me because I took her morphine away. It left the telltale bruise, purple, red and black complete with teeth marks right where my left arm meets my torso. It hurt like a motherfucker. It was awkward. It was probably one of the worst experiences of my life. This was right before knocking me down and then me having to subsequently tackle her to keep her from running off into the night to be picked up by whatever whacked out middle aged white chicks she runs with. Bunch of pill popping drunks cruising for cock and booze at shitty dance clubs. I was trying to keep her from leaving so she would have to deal with reality. If I learned one thing from watching my mother, it is that if you run from pain and reality instead of just dealing with it, your soul rots and your character fades.
My mother bit me. Who the fuck bites people? Psychotic white trash fucking junkies that's who. I'm too goddamn arrogant and snobby to have that shit in my blood.
My fucking mother fucking goddamn bit me.
I mean, think about it. My mother bit me. This was after a couple of hours of verbal assaults and arguing. It was after she bolted out the back door and tried to jump the privacy fence and failed. This was one of the most fucktarded things I'd ever seen in my life.
It started off with the family simply telling her she had a problem. She placated us. Then, I went for the cabinet. I always knew one day I would have to clean out the cabinet. The proverbial shit hit the fan. When I found the morphine, she went apeshit. She actually said, "Keith, people don't abuse morphine." This is perhaps the dumbest thing I have ever heard.
"What the hell did you just say to me? This ain't my first rodeo, mom. I worked at a methadone clinic. I studied pharmacology in school. I taught goddamned drugs and behavior in grad school. Don't try to bullshit me like I'm some country bumpkin."
She told me I was a grand crusader and that I was only doing this because I was an arrogant know it all. I said that might be so, but she's a junky.
She tried to hide a bottle of wine. She's an idiot, so it wasn't hard to figure out where it was. I poured it out. Told her this was like dealing with Evil Grandpa all over again. She took offense to that. She said I was pissing her off. I told her I've never pissed off anyone on accident.
Darvocet. Morphine. Soma and a host of other muscle relaxers. A bevy of benzodiazepines. An adderal-like psychostimulant. Scores of unidentified pills. This is just what she had in her house. This isn't whatever it is the cops buster her with during her DUI arrest a few days prior. She was charged with possession of a controlled substance. She had a vial of miscellaneous pills. She probably doesn't even know what they were. She's a walking goddamn labrat.
My mother bit me. What kind of a grown person bites other people? How do you look back on that and not think you're shithouse insane?
I'd seen it before. Taking the drugs and booze away from an attic threatens their very survival. They get desperate. I've seen it all before. I know how bad morphine addiction is. I know how bad the withdrawals are. She isn't going to make it. She isn't going to get better. I can't make her. Everyone else will believe what they want to believe. They'll take the path of least resistance. They want to think she'll have an ephiphany and just stop. I've seen it too much. I know her too well. She's fucked. I'll do what I have to do and what I'm good at- I'll be an asshole. Relentless. Blunt. Leave her no place to hide.
I've done her a disservice, I told her, but not being honest. By not confronting her when I suspected. By trying to avoid conflict. By going against my nature. I won't do that anymore.
No one else in my family can do it, but I can be the bad guy. It won't be hard. She disgusts me right now. I realized that night how true what I told my clients at the clinic was. Addiction negates your identity and your self. I can't think of a worse fate than to lose your self.
My mother bit me. That little lady who dropped me off at kindergarten and taught me to keep time so I could dance and play music. The little lady who would tell me how smart and wonderful I was when the kids at school would beat the shit out of me for having warts and just generally being a weirdo. That lady. She bit me.
My mother bit me. And all I can think is, that lady is a fucking junky cunt.
Motherfuck.