WARNING: A Whole FUCKLOAD of profanity....
So...for a variety of reasons, I am currently mad at the world. Seriously, if you inhabit "the world", you are on my shit list today.
And I'm fantasizing about running away. Remember that woman who was in the news recently for reappearing after vanishing without a trace eleven years ago? She dropped off her kids at school, left dinner defrosting on the counter, laundry tumbling dry....and disappeared.
OH. MY. GOD. YEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. I wish had that woman's balls. She just couldn't deal, so she skedaddled.
And folks, that really sums it up. I just can't deal any more. For twenty years, I have put everybody's needs above my own. And I am so tired. So, so, so tired.
Dis. Fucking. Gruntled.
I have two teenagers in my house, one of whom is a legal adult and thinks he has the wisdom and experience to conduct his life as he sees fit. Even though he lives in my house. Eats my food. Enjoys my internet, cellphone and cable television. Even though there is no way he could provide these things for himself. The other is just very, very, very fifteen. And unfortunately, Asperger's ups the puberty quotient about 110%.
Let's be clear. I know this is a phase. It's age appropriate behavior for the most part although I'm sure some are better and some are worse. I know I went through it too and I'm quite sure my mother was tempted to strangle me in my sleep as well. But that doesn't make it any easier to be treated day in and day out as though you exist only to serve their needs, and get absolutely nothing in return. To have your home, your belongings and your wallet appropriated, as if this is just the way it should be. To get complaints and protests and half assed effort when you ask for any help.
Me: "Please don't take my brush. It's the only one I have and when I'm hurrying to get ready for work, it's really annoying to have to go looking for it."
Kid #1: "Okay."
Me (next day): Where is my brush?????
Kid #1: "In my car."
Kid #1: "I needed it."
Or this one....
Kid #2: Can I have one of your water things?
Me: "No, those are expensive and I only bought a couple to treat myself this week."
Kid #2: "Okay".
Me: (next day) "What happened to all my flavored water?"
Kid #2. "I only drank one".
Those are small things. But a multitude of small things piling up day in and day out, all spell.......
Save it. We've tried it all. We are not those Dr. Phil parents. We set limits. We impose consequences. We punish and ground and take away privileges. We are not patsies. And you may find this hard to believe, but someday, despite your best efforts, your kids will act like assholes too. Somebody once told me this is a purposeful thing on the part of evolution. It's necessary for them to act like assholes so we will shove them out of the nest and not be sad when we seem them plummeting to their doom.
We'll be all..."Good. Little fucker deserved a broken beak."
Which makes perfect sense. And in that respect, you have to kind of marvel at the simple brilliance of it.
Nevertheless. I'm over it. O.V. E.R. it.
So...just like when Mary Pautz and I were nine and we decided to run away to her garage attic to put the fear of God into our parents...I'm thinking about running away.
I don't even remember why we ran away. I'm sure there was some horrible, horrible transgression on the part of my parents. I wasn't allowed to watch Three's Company because my mother thought it promoted an immoral lifestyle. That really chapped my ass. So maybe it was that. Maybe it was because she wouldn't let me wear high heeled Candies for my third grade class picture. No, no wait....I remember. It's because she wouldn't let me send my babysitting money to the Sean Cassidy fan club. I wiped asses and noses for that money. I thought that I was well within my nine year old rights to buy Sean Cassidy's love with it if I so chose.
But I digress.
Tonight, things came to a head and I lost my shit big time. And then I left all of them to marinate in the aftermath and I went to soak in a hot tub. And while I was in there, I was fantasizing about how to engineer my escape.
I thought....I can go to Wisconsin. I can live in my Mom's house. I can....
Wait. I have no car. I have no job. I have no way to take care of myself. And the ONE person who would say..."It doesn't matter. Just come home. We'll figure it out."...is gone. The ONE person who has consistently put MY needs before her own always and without fail....is gone. The ONE person who unquestionably cared about me more than herself...is gone.
And then the mad left.
And I cried for an hour.
Because that's a really sucky thing to realize. That nobody will ever love you like that again. Ever.
I don't even know how to end this. I guess that's it. Just that really horrible truth.
(I sort of feel a little better now. Funny how the blatant and repeated use of the word FUCK will calm a bitch down, innit?)