It Never Ends


The neurologist never called back this week, so I’ve been sitting here with an ever-intensifying headache and no clue what the hell is going on.  And any time that I bring up that my head hurts or my neck hurts or that I’m worried about the results, I end up having my mom find some way to demonstrate that her pain is so much worse.  She sometimes gets into this tendency of making everything a competition.  If I talk about having some specific kind of pain, she can tell me about her experience with that particular pain (or a different type) and how it was so much harder on her.

I told her that I’d been having more problems with getting fatigued by barely doing anything and I brought up that some of this muscle fatigue had been going on for years (because it has, but I’d never really told her about some of it), and do you know her responses?  First, there was the comment that somehow she was hurting really bad (not worse than usual, though), which was followed by the comment that some of the fatigue I had was a result of my not enjoying doing certain tasks and must be because she never pushed me hard enough to do those tasks.  She basically just took something that was about me and shifted it into something that was about her and about my being lazy.

Speak of the devil! She just woke up.  And it wasn’t one of those June Cleaver-style good, sweet, wholesome greetings.  No, it was her typical greeting, which is her breakfast order.  I’m a damn waitress.   When I was a little bit snippy about getting it right away, because I was (1) I was in a lot of pain and (2) I was agitated (meaning, crying) after reading a post on an LJ community about my icon promotion technique, she got more rude about it.  She insists that it was simply a request, but if I hadn’t agreed to do it, then I know that I would have been bitched out for hours on end and I would have had to go through the whole “no one loves me” whining spree that she loves to dole out whenever anyone doesn’t acquiesce to one of her demands.

Can I please have one day in my life that doesn’t end up sucking?  Can I have a mother that actually takes into consideration that I’m tired?  Can I be able to do things that I like without having to feel bad or angry or sad or upset about it?  Because if I don’t have a good day (or even an okay one) soon, I worry that I’ll just completely give up on things.


About Janet Morris

I'm from Huntsville, Alabama. I've got as many college credits as a doctorate candidate, and the GPA of some of them, too. I have a boss by the name of Amy Pond. She's a dachshund. My parents both grew up in Alabama.