Today’s The Day…

  February 17th, 2018 by ashwednesday

My sister’s birthday is on Monday and she came home this weekend to celebrate which of course brought all sorts of drama.

Thursday: I texted my sister to find out her plans – no response.

Friday: My sister invited our mother to her friend’s house for pizza and cake, but mom didn’t want to go – allegedly because I wasn’t invited. Sister went to her friend’s house. Mom went for coffee with her friend. I stayed home alone (which was fine with me). Sister “noticed” my text from previous day and texted me to ask if I wanted to go for supper. I told her that Mom told me that she was having pizza and cake at her friend’s house; she said she could have a second supper later. I told her Mom went for coffee which made Sister angry, I guess?

Fast forward a few hours: Mom and I were watching TV at home. It was getting late; Mom had to work early in the morning. Sister was supposed to drop off the shoes she got me as a late Christmas gift over an hour ago. Mom was quietly fuming because Sister didn’t text her back when Mom tried to arrange a coffee break. I texted my sister to tell her that I was going to get supper before the restaurants closed; she said she was on her way. I went to get supper anyway.

I return home. Sister and her friend were sitting in the dining room talking; Mom was sitting in the living room crying. I made small talk with Sister and her friend. They had brought cake; I asked Mom if she wanted cake – no response. I rushed Sister and Friend out the door; Mom angrily said “goodbye” as they were leaving – Sister does not respond. Mom began ranting about how Sister couldn’t even say goodbye, I asked Mom if she spoke to Sister while she was her. All hell broke loose.

Apparently, Sister got angry with Mom because Sister couldn’t find the $1500 cheque she had sent to the house; Mom finds the unopened envelope in the trash – Sister had accidentally thrown it away with the mail she didn’t want. Mom got angry because Sister didn’t come to the house earlier; Sister told Mom that she didn’t come because she is never home. It was my fault that Sister didn’t come because I told her that Mom went for coffee. I pointed out that Sister tried to include Mom by inviting her for pizza and cake, but that wasn’t good enough for Mom. This lead into a huge fight where Mom and I drudged up all our grievances.

I’m not sure which part of the fight was harder: Mom accusing me of imagining or making up pretty much everything she did that hurt me growing up or seeing the gaps in her memory. She remembered the big things from my childhood. Buying the house, the major car wreck I was involved in when I was in high school, me going to college, etc. But her dates were often off by years. But the little things? Like my grades plunging in high school because of my terrible seasonal depression or the hardass Biology teacher that called a half-dozen parent-teacher conferences in a single school year because she thought I was lazy didn’t even register. They never happened according to her.

Today: Mom went to work early this morning like she was supposed to do. She came home immediately after work, which was surprising. But she went in her bedroom and closed the door when she got home; she only came out when I went in my bedroom.

I’m 26 going on 27 years old, a college dropout, and currently unemployed after getting laid off in December. I live with my mom not because I want to or enjoy it, but because I have suspected something’s not been quite right with her for a long while now. I am scared of moving on because, well, I’m afraid of moving out and starting my life and then have to give it up to come home and take care of my mom because she is ill. I would rather not have that part of my life than have it and be forced to give it up. And, on the nights where I experience my deepest depression, the only thing that keeps me from killing myself is that I worry about my mom and our pets after I die. I think today’s the day, though. For real this time. No half-assed attempts. No saving myself at the last minute. Just death.

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