Me & my mom are in an email fight. Which is pretty funny, given that my mom just got email like TWO WEEKS AGO. I want to say that it's not painful at all. That I don't care. That I'd just assume we don't speak at all.
All of which is true.
But then I had a shitty, shitty day at work. And I told my friend Mary, "Do you want to go for a drink? Because I am going for a drink, even if I have to drink alone." And Mary, being the good friend that she is, went with.
And we talked about work. And got all that out of the way. We've both had multiple, senior-level conversations in the last two weeks that we desperately needed to divulge and relieve ourselves of.
After I got all mine off my chest, I admitted, "Plus, I've been email-arguing with MY MOM all week."
It seemed like nothing at the time. Really. But when I discussed it with Mary, she ACTUALLY STARTED CRYING. It was then that I realized that perhaps I have made light about my relationship with my mom for way too long.
So I need to begin speaking of it. Because you, my internet, are more reasonably priced than actual therapy. Plus, I'm still in denial about actually NEEDING true therapy.
So maybe today I'll just start with just background. Later entries about current fucked up situations will come with adequate warnings.
Tonight, I conquer high school.
When I was 14 (ninth grade), my parents split up. This was exceptionally hard because we were Mormon and NO Mormon families EVER divorce. You can't imagine being more of a societal pariah. PLUS, my brother and sister were off at boarding school. And when the bomb was lowered on me, my parents said, "But don't tell Mel & Steve about this, because it would be too hard for them to handle, being away from home."
So I spent the next three or four months PRETENDING LIKE MY PARENTS WERE STILL TOGETHER.
You gotta admit, that's pretty fucked up.
On top of that, my mother, in all her martyr-like glory, decided that NOW would be a good time to have a complete mental breakdown.
So, on top of not being able to divulge to my siblings that my dad had moved out, I also had to deal with - alone - a mother (and I use the term quite loosely) who never left a darkened bedroom.
I'm not really sure what I ate during my freshman year. I have to only assume that there was somehow food in the house. Perhaps I made use of that famous Mormon one-year-supply food storage.
After several months, Mother eventually got out of bed...only to cover the windows facing the street with tin foil and accuse the church officials of a witch hunt. Paranoia will destroy'ya and all that.
She sold the house and the two of us moved to a smaller home in a different neighborhood. Great for her, I'm sure. But much more difficult for the sophomore bandmember who doesn't drive who now has to find rides to Friday night football games in a neighborhood where she knows none of the parents.
Early sometime that fall, my mother left to spend a weekend in her hometown in Louisiana. On the way, she had a car accident and was severely burned from the waist down. She was hospitalized in Jackson, MS for I have no idea how long. Maybe a weekend? Maybe a month? Hell, who knows. Couldn't have been too bad...none of the church families offered to drive me up to Jackson to see her. ????
Here's me, I'm just a sophomore in high school without a driver's license, living at home.
When Mother was eventually released from the hospital, she went on to Louisiana. She stayed there a while. A long time. I don't know.
Here's me, still living at home, still alone. Still finding rides to Friday night football games. Other than that, I get up in the morning, take a shower, catch the bus to school. No big deal.
I'm not really sure what I did for food. Again.
Yeah, this is the part where Mary cried.
I never really considered my childhood unusual or particularly pathetic.
You know, maybe this is a good place to stop. Maybe next time I can get into my relationship with Dad and his death and where things are now with Mother.
God, it all seems so overwhelming, doesn't it?