Bob is making tacos, and listening to metal on his headphones, singing along at the top of his little tone-deaf voice. God help us. At least there are tacos. My brain is exploding and I should be doing 85 things, but there is too much in there…it is creating a clog. I need to take it out and shake it.
Nevie is at war with me. I shouldn’t write about it here, but it is paralyzing me. She may hate me forever and I’m going to have to figure out a way to live beyond that. I look for guidance from professionals, and I can’t find a damn thing that in any way relates to my situation. I look for guidance from people in our life, and they give me the weakest advice…”Take her phone.” Yeah, that’ll fix it. Everyone who was a role model in her life, but me, has turned their back and washed their hands of the situation. She’s fine in school, she’s not on drugs, she’s not in trouble with the law. She just despises me and Bob with all the fiery poison of hell, and has absolutely no regard for anything we say. I want to die from the pain in my heart, but like all the things that I thought and hoped would kill me, it doesn’t. I’m trying to tell myself that, worse case scenario, she never speaks to me again, but ends up an otherwise decent human, that will be okay. It’s not okay at all, but you know…I will find a way to accept it. In other areas, she’s decent. Most people want to placate me with,”Oh, she’s a teenager, she’ll get over it,” and that is not helpful at all and I wish they would STFU.
I feel very lonely. I feel like The Only One. My parents aren’t involved. My brother and sister aren’t involved. My aunts and uncles and cousins aren’t involved. Her dad and his family aren’t involved. The people of our extended family who tried to help have been scared off. Bob just shrugs. I literally have no one on this, and I am unable to control it, and I am unable to do anything about it, so that’s it.
I am the one who created all of our problems. I sure wish I had done every single thing differently, but now what? I sit with a heart that feels like tin cans and razor blades, and try to act like it doesn’t.
Maybe I should have created a better support system. My parents never had one, so I don’t really have an example in that. The WASP culture sucks at that stuff. I suck at that stuff. I come out, and want to have people in my life, and then they disappoint me, and I recoil into my little hole. I see on TV big, extended Italian, or Mexican, or whatever, families. I know this is a thing, people to be there for you. But then you have to be there for them. Who has time for that? Lol.
Love and light,