First Night at Home...

Well, it's my blog dammit, I'll write the truth.

I came home, and tried to take a nap. I think I slept a bit, but anyway...the second the tranqs wear off, the anger comes back. Obviously, one can attest that this "fight" goes much deeper than one argument. I've wanted to yell at my mother for YEARS.

Things often go like this *exaggerated for effect* :

Mom: The sky is lavender with bright green polka dots.
Me: The sky is blue.
Mom: Ya know, after ALL I've done for you, protected you from your idiotic father, slaved away so that you could go to good schools..., etc...

Basically, opinions aren't allowed unless their hers. Emotions are kept to a minimum. And we wonder why I've had so many problems. I attributed so many to my Dad (food), and now I'm finally seeing how much of it stems from my mother's "Please keep everything inside, it's inappropriate".

So. Last night.

Anger. Just...anger. The tranquilizers wore off. I thought off cooking, but when my anger gets SO bad...I haven't had the desire to go towards self-mutilation for YEARS, but I knew being around sharp objects. And then I remember the knife I happened to have in a box I'd brought from Astoria. (I'd put stuff in storage, but kept a few things to eat!). So I did what I did. Knowing it was wrong.

No blood, no nothing, just a bit of catharsis. But not enough. What I USED to do was jog, but now, well, I can't do that.

I called my Dad who was swimming so he couldn't answer the phone. Then I called my Mom.

"Would you please come and drive me to the UCLA Neuropsych Institute"?

She replied that she had customers and I could call a cab.

Eventually my Dad answered his phone and came home. And he was there for me. I just CRIED until I could cry no more. He told me he would drive me if I wanted, but all I really needed was a hug and some venting and crying and love. And he was right. Nice to have it SHOWN in such a way from one parent.

NOT that my mother doesn't show me love, but you have to practically beg for it sometimes. I mean, she cleaned my drains, bathed me, she's been an incredible mother. But I would have liked some display (from her) of emotion. Instead, all I ever saw was anger from both parents. Which explains why I burst out and can at times be considered "combative".

So it's morning. I'm awake, dammit. And I'm in PAIN. All the adrenaline-anger induced bending I did yesterday is completely kicking my ass right now. Oh well.

I don't know if I'll be happy at my Dad's place. Or my Mom's. But it's all I got, and I'm TRYING to make the best of it. In my own way, I suppose.