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So sick of this shit

Complaining and shit below this cut. My life’s been pretty fucked lately and I’m just needing to vent. You’ve been warned, it’s long and ranty and probably too overemotional. But I don’t fucking care because it’s my blog and I can vent on it if I want.

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She’s decided that it’s okay to start screaming at me and Luca (kohakuchan who I don’t wanna tag here cause I don’t want this negative shit showing up in his tag or something) every day, multiple times per day. Surprisingly she didn’t scream at us on her birthday yesterday but she did drag us to the movies with a ”We’re going to a movie declaration” with literally no opt-out and knowing she’d scream at us if we didn’t go. And we had to pay for her popcorn and ticket and stuff and it was a 3D movie which costs more so it wound up costing like $50. And I had to cancel my doctor’s appointment this morning because the combination of the walking-on-eggshells anxiety of the whole day and the popcorn or something made me really sick and I was up half the night feeling like I had a stomach flu. I really hate it when that happens and it’s always when I’m extremely stressed out because apparently my entire gut stops working when I’m too anxious. Probably didn’t help that she misgendered me severely on three separate occasions. Including once to the fucking cat when “talking” to the cat about whom said cat should beg for food from.

But the three days before yesterday and then again today she has screamed at one or both of us on at least two occasions each day. This morning she actually said to me “Can you find a different boyfriend”, referring to Luca. Yes, Luca, the poor thing who was up half the night keeping me company and getting me things and helping me feel better. But apparently I should just dump him on his rear according to her. Not as a question, more as an order. My outrage was met with absurd sexist misgendering bullshit about how “well MY parents weren’t satisfied until I made a match with someone who could support me”. Ah yes clearly. I clearly need a wealthy man in my life because my life goal is to be a suburban housewife. Uh yeah how about FUCK NO AND FUCK YOU. And really even that “reason” is lacking because gee she got divorced after 6 years, the fucker isn’t even my dad because she started fucking some abusive shitstain as soon as they separated, and she’s been single and broke for a very long time. Clearly, Mother, it’s important that you pick your life companions for their financial value to you rather than their emotional value. My further outrage was met with her literally following me from the kitchen to the base of the stairs screaming at me about how ungrateful I am and cursing at me. And she actually had the balls to seem totally unaware of what I could possibly be so upset at her about because of course she’s totally in the right and such a fucking saint.

And she fucking goes to her therapist and tells her half the fucking story and plays herself as the fucking victim of such terrible petulance from me and why don’t I appreciate her and why don’t I (and she has literally said this to me) “kiss the ground she walks on”. Like she didn’t make me share a house with a man I was literally afraid of (my grandfather) for years. Like she doesn’t blatantly lament the passing of this abusive fuck right to my face as if I’m at all supposed to think it’s a bad thing that the reason I slept with a knife under my pillow for years is dead. Like she’s had to do all the Sandy stuff herself and I haven’t spend countless hours doing paperwork for her or learning the estimating software for her. Like she doesn’t start shit at 11 or 12 at night every time we’re supposed to do something important like dealing with social services or something the next day. Like she’s not the one who uses up our shared food stamps and buys herself fancy expensive jars of honey that she devours completely in a day or a carton of ice cream every day or expensive kinds of meat meanwhile she complains and guilts me and makes me feel like shit for getting a bag of cheese to make mac and cheese that will last two days. Like I don’t fucking keep her life running because she doesn’t even open her own goddamn mail, much less ever put a single piece of paper away, just letting it pile up in heaps and if it wasn’t for me we wouldn’t even have the stupid food stamps because it would have expired multiple times. And so her therapist tells her (so I hear because she comes home and goes on all fucking about it) about how put-upon she is and how she should really do more “things to take care of herself”. Meanwhile that’s all she ever fucking does and she doesn’t even really do that much because she doesn’t even keep track of her own shit. 

The fucked up thing is, she’s been relatively an actual human being for the last couple of weeks. I actually thought she was trying to play nice. I actually thought she’d fucking recognized that she needed my help dealing with all of the goddamn Sandy shit and the architects and the various programs and whatever else. I actually thought we could make it through the fucking summer, I’d get her shit sorted out because I’m not a terrible human being, and then Luca and I could be out of here for good. See, this is why I do better as a cynic. This ladies and gents is exactly why. Because my life is a swirling shitstain and any small fraction of optimism or momentary relaxation from frenzy is “rewarded” with another goddamn steaming turd dropped straight atop my head.

I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I don’t know what we’re gonna do. I can’t keep Luca here if she’s gonna keep doing this. I’ve grown up with her shit and I’m pretty fucking used to dealing with it by now. It just pisses me off at this point. But it clearly affects Luca worse than me and it breaks my heart to see him like that. No one is allowed to fuck with the people I care about. But we don’t have any of our shit sorted out, she’s got half our things holed up in the storage unit that I’d really like to get out, and we don’t have any plans or resources for even having anywhere to go right now because as of when she was still being a human being the plan was to leave at the end of the summer. But I’m less than a hair’s breadth away from just shoving whatever I can fit of ours into a suitcase and finding out how much the ferry to Connecticut costs so I can beg my dear friend and quasi-cousin to let us crash on her and her bf’s couch for a bit. But I know Luca really treasures a lot of his things, particularly a lego and video game collection that I know we wouldn’t be able to replace. And so he’d never want to give that up. But at this point I just don’t know what to do anymore.

I’m just so sick of listening to her scream. I’m so sick of the anxiety and panic. I’m so sick of being manipulated into expensive shit just for a break from the complaining. I’m so sick of living like this.

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