My mom had to go to Walmart today. She needed to get away from my dad. They don’t get along. (This isn’t news.) The only time that they get along is when they’re up against a common foe. I don’t understand their relationship. Actually, I probably understand their relationship more than I should and just don’t understand “normal” relationships.
Dad doesn’t like how mom spends money recklessly or without his authority–even with it, he gets upset. Mom doesn’t like being yelled at or told that she can only spend a certain amount of money, even if the money in question is hers. (He also gets upset when I spend my money on things for me.) Dad doesn’t like having to do things like cooking or cleaning or laundry. If I intervene and do something for him, he gets upset if I don’t do it instead of him every day after that. My mom isn’t perfect. There are a lot of crappy things she does, including intentionally trying to start arguments/fights, making back-handed compliments, etc. I get why he can get frustrated with her sometimes, but the angst between them and just from them in general is just really too much.
Anyway, while mom and I were out of the house, we were talking. She said I need to tell him that I’m in pain when I do things and that I need to complain…a lot…to him about the things I do and how it makes me feel. She also told me that my dad doesn’t think I’ll ever write a book or do anything with my life. (I figured that out already.) He has this tendency to think I won’t ever do anything. If I tell him that I’m going to do something like cooking or housework, he actually tells me that I won’t do it. (Then he gets surprised at how I get pissed off at him for saying that.) I wonder if it ever occurred to him that maybe I might feel better about myself and about doing things if every comment that he made about my doing those things wasn’t negative.
I am sick of this angst and this horrible family. One day I will get out of this house. And whether I come back remains to be seen. I have to or it will kill me. Their rage is making me so miserable. I love my parents, but I am so sick of being in a family where I know that nothing I do will ever be enough and where I will always know that they expect me to fail. (Mom doesn’t say it to my face, but I know from her questions about “What will you do when we’re dead?” that she thinks the same things.) I wouldn’t be surprised if any friends I have think the same thing.
It is one thing for me to think that I’m shit, but for fuck’s sake can someone in this world please believe in me? Can someone please like me when I hate myself? Can people please stop using me as some kind of emotional punching bag? Because honestly I am fucking sick of being the shitstain in everyone’s life.