June 23rd, 2009

Tattoo

223 - Rant

To be quite honest, I have had enough of you, Mother.

Let's review basic knowledge that you, as an OT and a member of the working community, should know.

A Week =/= Two Days.

A Week =/= FIVE DAYS.

A Week =/= THREE DAYS.

A Week = Seven Days. Commonly run in this modern society from Monday to Sunday. Or, like this:

Monday - Tuesday - Wednesday - Thursday - Friday - Saturday - Sunday.


Monday to Sunday. Simple, you might think, considering that YOU USE THE SAME SYSTEM AT WORK.

I can forgive you for thinking it Sunday to Sunday. Or Monday to Monday.

But no way in hell will I forgive you for thinking that it means Monday to Tuesday/Wednesday/Thursday.

YOU HAVE A WEEK TO DO YOUR ROOM
. That's what you said, and to be frank, a week is a week and that, to me, means I have seven days before you can scream at me about it. I don't particularly care to get onto it two days into my week.

NOWHERE within that statement, did you say any of the following:

"Do a bit each day."

"You have two days to do it." 

"You should do ALL THE OTHER JOBS AS WELL." Please note these include the washing, the cooking and cleaning the kitchen and bathroom.

"You should do it all before the weekend."

So, when you scream at me on TUESDAY, of the Week you have me, I will SCREAM RIGHT AT THE SCREAMING BITCH. I am not going to be doing my room two days into my week when I'm on MY HOLIDAY. Oh, you get thirty one days a year off? Good for you. I GET TEN WEEKS. SUCK IT UP AND BE A BIG GIRL ABOUT IT. I cook for you, I make you tea and coffee, I do the washing up and I keep my kitchen clean. I don't care for your attitude and I don't care for you Screaming at me that I'm lazy and I should go live with my father for an easy life. 

If I wanted to live with a father on minimum wage (I don't quite know what's going on there, but something's up with his back and he can't work) and put more stress into his life, and leave behind my friends that fuck you I would. I would rather do that than live here at times because ALL I HAVE HEARD since I started my exams is that I should live with him.

SUCK IT UP, PUT ON YOUR BIG GIRL BRAINS AND LEARN TO LEAVE IT WELL ENOUGH ALONE. I realise that you fell out of love with my father when he had an affair, and you dislike him as a person now, and that he does drink. Don't you think I go through enough when I hear you saying that I don't want to turn out like him as an alcoholic? I get that you don't like him, but guess what? 

YOU PICKED HIM AS A LOVER AND THEN AS A HUSBAND.

I DID NOT PICK HIM AS A FATHER.

Guess where I'm going on this - I love my DAD BECAUSE HE IS MY DAD. IF YOU DON'T THEN USE THOSE 'KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT' MORALS AND SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT HIM. My Dad is my Dad through BLOOD. NOT CHOICE. I don't need you comparing every bad fault I have to him - from my temper to my attitude toward life towards my dislike for certain foods I dislike but you don't (such as Chinese when you brought home chinese for my brother and yourself and then just said, "Fix yourself something." Great, thanks, you know, you two get take out when you said you would BUY TAKE OUT FOR THE WHOLE FAMILY at TEN PAST TEN AT NIGHT and leave me to do my own - at least you could have phoned when you knew I hate Chinese food when I don't cook it. )and people I hate. I am not my father but he is my father.

Get over it.

I especially don't care for you telling me that I should loose weight because I look ugly and that at my age you could fit into children's wear. Good for you. Be proud of that.

BUT DON'T BOAST ABOUT IT TO ME.

I don't care that you're in pain. If you scream at me, I will scream at you. If I used pain for an excuse to scream at you, I would cut my own hand off and throw it at you to allow me to scream at you. YOUR PAIN IS BAD. OKAY. I give you pain pills, I make you tea, and offer a cold pack and a hot water bottle. I'm not a doctor or a healer - so I can't mend your pain for you. I can't drive - so I can't drive you to a hospital. I offered to call an ambulance or one of your friends. You declined.

DO NOT SCREAM AT ME BECAUSE I THEN WALKED AWAY. You had your eyes closed, and said I could go. I WENT. YOU SCREAMED AND SAID YOU WANTED TO SAY SOMETHING ELSE. Guess what, I had my mp3 on and couldn't hear you. Instead of calling me by knocking on the door or floor, or reaching all of five feet to reach it, you choose to shout and scream at an otherwise empty room. I DIDN'T HEAR YOU.... YOU MANAGED TO DRAG YOURSELF TO THE BATHROOM, WHICH IS LESS THAN ABOUT TWENTY FEET FROM MY ROOM TO THERE. YOUR ROOM IS CLOSER. 

I suddenly understand why children who have never been hit or punched or starved still cut their parents out  of their life and don't want them at their weddings and places like that.

When you scream at me, you know what it feels like? It feels like you don't especially care. That you just don't especially care for me when I don't do well or I want a week off. You change your mind ALL THE TIME. You don't tell me when you do, and then you scream at me when I don't telepathically read your mind and know that the plans have changed. And guess what? MY PLANS ARE THERE TOO. YOU are not the sole person in this house. I HAVE PLANS TOO.

OKAY, you want to do A? I SAID OKAY AND MADE MY PLANS AROUND OPTION A. THIS DOES NOT AUTOMATICALLY MEAN THAT OPTION B IS OKAY AS WELL. DON'T ASSUME AND THEN COMPLAIN AT ME WHEN I HAVE A PROBLEM WITH IT. YOU AN D ME LIVE DIFFERENT LIVES. STOP ASSUMING THAT THEY ARE AUTOMATICALLY COMPATIBLE.

You're a SINGLE MOTHER. OKAY. I KNOW. I give you recipes so you know what to buy, I cook and I make sure I know what is where. I don't earn any money but I have made attempts to get a job because prior to this I was either not legally allowed to work, under too much stress with school work or doing exams or there were no jobs to be found. I don't go places very often. I don't make you buy lots of clothes for me. There is no need for you to tell me that I cost you SO MUCH money every five minutes. When I earn EMA, I swear to God, I am buying my own food and clothes and just borrowing Electricity.

You bitch and complain all the time. I try to accomodate but I take it as it COMES.

DEAL WITH IT , MOTHER.