What the hell

I was doing so well. I was happy, my family was happy with me. I was helpful instead of a burden. I was trying so hard to please myself and everyone around me. My mom took my sister on a trip I was dying to go on. She had refused to take me on it the year before, but agreed it would be worthwhile for my sister. I was upset, and a little bitter at first. But I decided to get over it and just be happy and help out around the house over spring break while they were gone. My dad works all day, and my brother and I were home alone most days. I had sports practice for two hours a day, but still made sure my brother was entertained and fed. We got along well, and I even missed a team bonding event to take him to disneyland one day to get him out of the house since most of his friends were on vacation. We had tons of fun together, and got to know more about one another. My mom came home last night late with my sister, and I didn’t see her because I was asleep. We woke up early and had breakfast together, and I listened about her trip truly interested and excited for her, despite my upset before. I left for the day and came home later that night. Again we were getting along fine. I was in the family room, and my brother has recently gotten into volleyball, so he likes to hit the ball while watching television. I always ask him if he can not, and I ask nice, and he never stops. I had let it go for about three weeks, but I was so tired and wanted to go to bed but I could hear it from my room. I went up stairs and asked my mom if she could ask him to stop, since he didn’t listen to me. She said sure as long as she finished what she was doing. I waited 15 minutes for her to finish, and then she went downstairs. She asked if I would come but I didn’t want her to yell at me, and I knew she would if I was down stairs. So she aced my brother to stop, and he of course said no. They giggled about it, and no matter what she said, he would back talk her. She got frustrated with his inability to listen and started screaming bloody murder at him. Then she called for me to come down. I told her I didn’t want to come down until he stopped because I knew she would find a way to blame it on me. She brought me down stairs screamed at me for accusing my brother, screamed at my dad for not being helpful. Then stormed off to her room. I have never felt so hurt in my life. I didn’t raise my voice, I asked for something so innocent. My mom once again tried to put me in a situation of parenting that she couldn’t control. She didn’t want to be the bad guy to her own son, so she tried to get me to do it. I stood in the family room in shock. I went outside where my dad was to try and talk to him about why this always happens. Why even when I try so hard to please her she still gets so angry. I was frustrated and started crying as I realized my dad was stoned as usual. I wanted to cut so bad. Make the pain go away. And it took all of my strength to realize I couldn’t right now because there would be no way to hide the cuts at the current time. Once again, I am the bad guy to my brother and mom. I will probably become the bad guy to my sister and dad at some point tomorrow, because that seems to be what I do best. I know the volley ball thing seems preventative, like I should have been able to deal. But I just couldn’t. I have a sound sensitivity that I have had since birth, and noises are ultra sensitive to me and I pick up background sounds easily. I had giant noise proof headphones, and my mom just told me to put them on. I wear them to study, but its cruel of her to expect me to wear them while I am just sitting in my room, listening to music, doing art, or sleeping. It makes me feel like if she could lock me up in a box or kill me or something she would. I hate that I want my moms approval, but what upsets me even more is how much she disliked me, mistreats me, and then doesn’t admit it. She doesn’t mother me, but burdens me with her problems. She told me in sixth grade that my dad was a pothead, made me help her put santa gifts under the tree when I was in kindergarten, came to me crying about how her and my dad were going to get a divorce when I was in second grade. She came running to me when she broke a glass dish on her wrist and needed me to call 911 and hold her arm while she cried. She complains to me about my dad. In front of me, she cusses, calls herself fat, screams and claims we are broke. I am the only kid treated like this. All I have ever wanted is a mother, instead my entire life I have had to act as her therapist and punching bag. I hate her so much. I would do anything to remove her from my life or remove myself from hers.