Stone Walls
07-28-2010 Wednesday
Talking to my mother has become similar to talking to a huge brick. Not only that, there seem to be an invisible wall around her that blocks any human thoughts, feelings or emotions. I wonder if it's still part of her being Bipolar or it could also be possible that for some strange reason, my real mother has been replaced by this walking stone statue. Where did my biological mother go? Did she die without us knowing?
I always expect some miracle whenever I would go home. I'm always hoping to see her back on her feet, walking, talking, taking care of the house chores just like a regular mother would. But, she never fails to disappoint me. The more I see her failing me and my gramma, the more I'm hating her. Now, my hate is to the point that I no longer have any sympathy towards her. I no longer blame her sickness for this, I blame her and her weakness. She's letting herself be defeated, actually from the looks of it, I can tell that she has already given up.
To be honest, I couldn't care less about her. If you ask me what my decision for her would be, I'll say I want to throw her away in some rehabilitation center, and let some volunteer take care of her, at least those volunteers would probably not care if she'll do nothing but sleep all fucking day. The reason why I couldn't do that is because of my gramma who still cares a lot about her. My gramma who's also hoping to see her fully recover. My gramma who's doing all the hardwork in the house, covering up her lazy fucking ass.
Our family has been through a lot. It has created a damage inside me but this is nothing compared to the pain that my gramma has endured throughout the years. If there's someone in our family that deserves a happy ending, it's my gramma. She has sacrificed a lot for us, she's got the strongest and most compassionate heart out of anyone I've ever known.
That's why it pisses me the most to think that my gramma does all the hardwork in the house while my mother does nothing but be a fucking stone. I am home today and I woke up to the sound of my gramma crying in the bathroom while she does the laundry. She's tired of our situation, she's tired of having to do everything, she's tired of seeing my mother give up and be defeated by the sickness over and over.
I went to the laundry to comfort her. I talked to her, asked her what she wanted to do with my mother. I told her that if my mother is not gonna change before August ends, then I'm gonna have to kick her ass back to the rehab and we'll live here together, the two of us, plus my cats and Damien. I told her to not worry about me, I'm fine with working, I only want her to be able to get some rest, take a break from all the hardwork she's doing, but with my lazy mom around, that's far from being possible.
She decided to talk to my mom, while I'm in the house. The stone moved from it's original position in the seat outside, sat on the floor near the door and froze. My gramma did the talking. I stared at the person I still call mom, wondering if she'll feel cold to my hands if I touch her. After my gramma was done talking, she asked her what she plans to do with her life. One of them has to get a job. She's still sick, so yeah fine, my gramma said she's willing to work, if in return, my mom will do all the chores in the house, from cooking to cleaning then she asked if my mom could think of anything else to do.
I almost exploded when I heard my mom respond "What else is there to do?"
I bit my lip to keep myself from shouting obscenities at her. If I didn't stop myself, I could've shouted different kinds of curses at her, and I would've probably grab her around the neck, and just choke her to death. Maybe that will bring some sense back into her little rotting brain.
What's with that question, what else is there to do? Lemme tell you, you li'l lazyass bitch, A LOT. Like shall we start with you getting a job? Or, or if not, then maybe be a mother to me even for once? Ohh wait, I got a better idea, why not start with sewing yourself back together, you crazy bitch?
I didn't shout..I stopped myself in time. I told her she needs to think about what she needs to do. If I don't get a clear answer before my scheduled unpaid leave, then I'm gonna have to bring my gramma with me to Manila and she can find a way to live on her own. It sounded harsh, even to my own ears but I don't care. I want her to understand that I mean what I'm saying. If she's not gonna help herself, then, I'm not gonna help her. I'm done trying to understand a person who don't even understand her own self. I'm the bad daughter, yes I am.
The conversation ended with no valid response from the statue. I wonder where I got the strength to hold back the words I wanna blurt out to her face. I'm usually not good at keeping my mouth shut. I guess I'm just concerned that she'll go crazybitch on us if I did say the things in my head. I'd rather deal with a stone than a bitch-gone-crazy episode of her.
She's officially insane. I'm officially the foe. We're a happy family, aren't we? Lalalalala..
Labels: ANGER, BITCH. mother, daughter, family, fury, HATE, pink crimson
posted by Monica-Lynne @ 1:56 AM
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