I just returned from about 3 hours of pure HELL! at my parent's house.
Let me give a brief synopsis of my visit:
I get yelled at for not receiving a rebate check in the mail and for paying my bills online.
I have no control over Large Phone Company, father. And I will pay my bills any damn way I choose, thank you. I pay my bills, all of them on time, so take a flying leap. Do not make me write you another letter, daddy dear.
My mother asked me, for the remaining 2 and a half hours, "What is wrooong with yoooou?". Apparently, she does not remember what it is like to have ovaries and hormones and PMS or a period in her post-menopausal little world! So, after 150 minutes of the Same!Freakin!Question! every 5 minutes I blew my top, told her everything in the world was wrong and that I was running away and never coming back. Very 7th grade, I know, but very effective on my mother.
Ya know, the moment I walk into their house I feel the need to cram junk food down my gullet and my whole mood changes to something similar to what Ed Gein must have felt at home. So when I leave, just short of making people into human suits, and I get that first breath of fresh air walking across the yard, I wonder what the hell is so wrong inside that house?
Is it just 40+ years of The Parental Units strife and anger all built up and permeating the home? Is it me? Am I electro-sensitive and there some sort of faulty wiring that I need an EMF detector to find and a great electrician to fix? Are there hidden lay-lines under the house? Indian burial grounds? Haints, spooks, spirits? America's version of Stone Hinge (I've had a lot of time to think, ok)!
And the kicker is (:::laughter, bordering on hysterical snorting:::) I built a HOUSE next to these crazies! On purpose!
I really have been thinking about therapy a lot as of late. I really don't think I am the only person who needs it (ahem, Parental Units), but I am certainly the only one who would benefit from it. I also think that a therapist would have a !FieLd DaY! with me. I'm like Shrek- an onion with lots and lots of layers.
For the fun of it all: skin care products!
--The Milk Maid says normal-schmormal
8/31/07
Friday Extra Addition- The Deep Stuff
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5 comments:
Holy shit! You were fine when I talked to you around 5..what the hell happened? Maybe with school, you'll have some distance from them? Might do ya some good. I don't think I could live next door to my parents..but I think there could be some good points about it. Zoloft is my friend, I could introduce you......
Zoloft and I have met- and perhaps we shall reaquaint ourselves soon. All this had happened by 5- I was home then ;) so all was well.
Why can Mr. Rogers be my neighbor?
You can take my blood! Good luck girl, I know you will do fine! As much as I get my blood taken, you can move here and take my blood only and have a full time job! I am finally back on the mend... don't send me any more of your kidney stones!!! Next time lets at least have a kidney stone party!
It makes it awfully hard to run away from your parents when you live next door to them. you are a brave girl. I actually thought once I could live next door to my mom but that was when she still liked me. Now she doesn't speak to me and it's actually sort of pleasant in a sad way. Very long story. I'm also very happy now that she lives several states away.
As you can see I posted the wrong comment to the wrong post :( So sorry.
Anyway sorry about your parents! You the girls and Jef can run away here for a few days if you would like!
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