I just need to write some stuff down, otherwise I
won’t be able to get back to work.
In case you still want to read… warning: sensitive content.
*sigh* here goes…
My mother came back from her
trip today, and literally the first thing she said to me was “you
look like a negro,” and
after giving me a quick one over “and
did you gain weight?” It’s
been a while since I’ve seen
so much disgust in her eyes, so my mind froze up. It felt like I was splitting
into multiple layers: the one that was chatting to my mother, updating her on
her company’s issues, another one that was a teenager, throwing more and more
memories at the back of my head (torn
drawings, “of course you’ll study economy, it’s the only way for people like us
to survive” [14], thrown away books that I babysat and didn’t eat lunch for months for, “PPP? What
in the world is that? Don’t make me laugh! No daughter of mine will become a
miserable teacher,” [15], forced family dinners that always came with a couple
of “stuffing your face, huh?” or “look at yourself. do you really think the
sight is pleasant?” everything said under the breath and in Russian so the
“new” family members wouldn’t understand [16], constant undeserved slaps for
bringing “disturbance” into the family
“and by the way, your dad never wanted you, so better wipe that thought out of your mind”, yelling, so much never ending yelling
“it’s all your fault! Everything is YOUR.FAULT!” and then her silence when it
was my turn to be thrown around, chased down, or beaten up by the step douche,
followed by the most deafening sound of all: “why did you have to go and provoke him.
you know he’ll never let me hear the end of it”), almost
growling “see?! I knew it,” yet another one that was trying to console the
desperate teen, saying “past doesn’t matter, we are our own person now, we are
OK, we are getting help, it doesn’t MATTER,” and one that was just screaming at
the top of her lungs, trying to blend everything out.
It’s
funny that since my mother got hospitalized last year with every passing day I
feel more and more like my younger self. I’m over bloody 30, I should be over
it, I should be able to deal with shit. I know my mother, I UNDERSTAND her and where
she’s coming from, I’m AWARE that I don’t have to agree with anything she does,
says, or thinks, I KNOW it’s my own life. And still, at moments like this, why
do I feel like a waste of space and matter?
I want to go somewhere, somewhere far away. If I can’t
deal with simple crap like this, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to, it’d
be better to just … what? I don’t know. That’s the problem. I don’t know but I
just don’t want to be here.
Some days all my positive attitude just vanishes, and
all that remains is the past. Why? Maybe because I haven’t done anything since then
with “my life”. Nothing changed. No matter what I do, deep inside I’m still that young girl who’s
gritting her teeth, trying to not let anything get to her. Nothing more, nothing less.
I don’t need to be loved, but it sure would be nice to
feel accepted.
Alright, enough whining for today. Imma make myself a nice cup of tea and get back to sorting documents.
Peace
test 