Fight fight fight
By pixelopal on Dec 12, 2014 | In pixelopal | Send feedback »
My mother moved back in with me two days ago. On the way back from the airport, 20 seconds on the interstate and I was already regretting it. 2 days and she "can't remember" that i had told her she could not take over the living room, she could not put her desk out there, her bookshelves, and her sewing machine. I told her my older brother worked night shift and sleeps there so she would need to change her sleep schedule or stay to my room (two bedroom apt with 4 people) she was not to clean or cook while my brother sleeps, that we were planning on finding a new place so not to purchase furniture...
She doesn't remember. I finished putting together a desk and two bookshelves and she told me that two of them stayed in the living room. I threw my hammer back into my toolbox and sighed. I was done trying to reason with her. I moved her furniture while she harrassed me over "my additude" I told her to drop it, she wouldn't listen so I was done talking. I moved all her shit. I walked away from her. I WALKED AWAY!!!
She chased me down to fight. She wanted my hammer since the back to the bookshelf came off. I went to fix it and she poked and prodded until I snapped. I told her she doesn't listen, everything is about her, there was no respect for anyone else. She yelled, I yelled, she yelled, and I yelled. Then Jason yelled. He stormed out and came at me with a raised fist. I had enough and I took the hammer to his ribs. I knew it was unfair after the first hit so I dropped it. We exchanged blows, he threw me back and my mother grabbed him. Bad Idea!
a little back story here. Jason and I fight. Full on fists. Broken ribs, black eyes, bruises, and bloody noses. longest fight lasted 5 mins. We fight dirty and make up right after. But don't get in the middle. Jason shoved her into a wall. It had gone too far so I dragged him back into my fight. After a few more hits I walked away.
Jason told my mother exactly why we were mad. Explained the things she did that pissed us off. The way she picks and picks. And then it was over. I broke down, the damn depression I couldn't help crying. There was a time where Jason and I would beat the daylights out of each other, say "Im sorry" and laugh. This time I cried. It didnt hurt, not physically.
And now I stare at the disability determination letter. It asks me to see another doctor. I want to get better, I really do... but I am tired... oh so tired of trying.
My mother was more worried over her damn furniture than me or Jason. She threatened to leave because she was so "unwanted". And now she is laying in the living room on the floor, fake sobbing, trying to get me to feel bad. Yes I feel bad, but not about the fight, not about her. Im tired of her abuse. That's what it is... abuse.
I have little things I have to do. People cannot stand behind me, I gag and try hard not to run away when people are too close, and I cannot be on a flight of stairs when someone else is on them. She groans and tells me to get over it every time. I cant help it... just like I cant help running like a scared child when there is a bee or wasp. (im highly allergic)
I cant help it. It hurts too much when I try to ignore it and hold fast. I just cant help it.
My cat finally came out of hiding 4 hours after all this to come comfort me. If i get this disability I am walking away from all this. Im renting a truck and finding a one bedroom somewhere. I can't live with these people anymore. I will miss Jason, he and I always got along (even when we fight). We thought we could escape. Maybe we still can.
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