A House is not a Home...
It's been a while since I last updated my LiveJournal. I've been more of a Facebooker the past six or so months, so that should explain my absence. I've always used this journal to express my fears, my feelings, my joys, my concerns, and whatever else I felt the need to scream to the world. I really need, more than ever, a place to vent, to organize my thoughts about a steadily worsening issue--living here, at home.
So, mom and I nearly came to blows today, the conversation ending with "I don't know who the hell you are anymore or why you're always like this!" I'll start from the beginning.
I'm basically minding my own business, working on homework, after spending a couple of hours hanging the laundry, washing the dishes, bathing the dog, etc., etc. when mom walks into my room and says "I'm glad you finally cleaned up your room." (If you consider putting away a small pile of clothes and organizing my school materials "cleaning my room.") and I ask her to leave the room because she's distracting me. She glares at me and proceeds to chew me out for the "attitude" I gave her. I admit, I was a bit annoyed when she barged in unannounced, so my reaction was understandable. She storms out of my room moaning and groaning, which added to my irritation.
Maybe ten minutes later, while I'm trying to decipher my linguistics homework, she just had to come back and resume her verbal assault. I don't remember exactly what happened from this point on, but it didn't take long for me to start seeing red. I ended up using a few choice words while clearly expressing (and you can't get much clearer than I did) myself. Instead of dragging everyone reading this through a detailed account, I'll just establish the particulars of the argument:
--She has to comment on anything and everything.
--She has to know everything to the smallest detail (who, what, where, when, why, and how).
--She doesn't know when to leave well enough alone.
--She doesn't understand that I just want to be left alone sometimes (impossible in this house)
--She calls a bijillion times in a 10 minute span when she calls the house or my cell phone.
--She always finds a way to work her disappointments into any conversation.
--She hides behind the excuse "you still live under this roof" to get away with everything.
--She never talks in a normal voice. It's always in a forceful, raised, demeaning, and condescending tone.
--She doesn't know who I am anymore, and nor do I care. She's had a million chances, but never took advantage of any of them.
--She's not the only one who has a voice.
This has been going on for the longest time, but things have never been this bad. Never have we resorted to swearing at each other, until now. I'm just sick of dealing with an arrogant, self-serving, stubborn, inconsiderate mother on a daily basis. I absolutely hate her. Yes, that's a strong word to use, but I'm serious. I'll acknowledge that she's my mother--but she's not my mother. She spends so little time at home due to her 70 hour work weeks. I work nearly full time, go to college full time, and have a hard time balancing homework with my job on top of my chores. I can't keep up. Things are always left half-done because I prioritize my studies and my job. And who gets chewed out because the house isn't as clean as it should be? That's right. Me. Every damn time. She's never satisfied with anything, even with the effort or attempt. I've gotten to the point where I merely tolerate her...even now, that's pushing the envelope.
After verbally slaughtering me, she always wants go out and do something together. Family dinners just annoy me. I'm sick of the food she cooks. If I've already eaten, she complains that she's wasted her time cooking and the food she just made. If I eat a little, she complains that I don't eat enough. How many times have I told her I'm trying to lose weight and this processed crap she makes isn't helping? God forbid I opt for a healthy salad with some ham or chicken tossed in it. If I don't drop what I'm doing, run to the table and eat, I get holy hell. I just can't win with her. It's impossible.
I haven't even touched upon going out to eat. I don't mind going out to eat if I'm going to feel included. If being the operative word here. I'll order whatever I want, and she'll pull the "that's all your going to eat?" routine again. She'll talk about cheerleading with my sister for hours on end while waiting for food and while eating. I sit there eating in silence every time because I've learned that's the best way to survive the ordeal. If I start talking about something I'd like to do or the things I do, mom always finds a way to segue back to cheerleading. I'm ignored every damn time.
And she wonders why I don't want to talk with her or let her in on my life. It's because she couldn't care less. I can try so hard, inviting her to events I attend, letting her know where I'm going in hopes she'll be interested on some level, but it's all in vain. She always has an excuse when it doesn't benefit her.
The house I live in hasn't exactly been warm and welcoming the past several years. It's nothing more than a place to eat, sleep, and live. I can't afford to move out. I have a hard enough time paying off my car, the insurance, and my phone bill! This amounts to about $300 a month. This doesn't even include expenses for books, gas, and food! Starting in November, tack on another $250 per month for the loans I have to pay back. Anyway, I'm miserable whenever I'm home. I actually look forward to my classes and job to temporarily escape a gloomy, bitter residence.
And here's the saddest conclusion of all: If I told her all of this, you'd think that she'd listen? Probably not.
I think this may actually be the final stalemate between mom and I. I almost lost my cool today...and for those who have seen me when I do, it's not a pretty sight.
The irritation has been present for god knows how long. It just builds with each passing day. Some days I can control it, other I can't. When I can't I just lash out at everybody around me, burning bridges left and right, and just not caring. I just can't beat her. All I can do is be defensive and counter her move for move, but I'm getting tired of holding back. Very tired. I would commit no violent acts, but I do have a way with words--a very sharp, damaging, and lasting effect--and I may say something I know I won't regret.