You know, you'd have a lot fewer issues if you would learn to calm the fuck down, communicate like a sane/reasonable person, think things through for problem solving, and generally stop throwing a tantrum like a two year old every time anything inconveniences you.

If you were ANY OTHER PERSON, I would have stopped talking to you years and years ago.  

I don't tell you anything.  I don't ask you for anything.  I don't talk to you besides superficial pleasantries, and you STILL managed to blow up on me and be a psychotic bitch.  

Fuck you, you stupid, psychotic bitch.

Just do everything yourself.

Don't ask for help.

Don't try to express an opinion or share anything, ever.

Don't show that you're struggling.

Just take care of everyone and everything quietly and efficiently and with a smile.  

Don't expect any thanks or reward except more work.

Even if you do all these things, it will still never be enough.

"Take care of yourself" is such bullshit.

Family Discussions

T: You know the tears thing is getting really, really, old. I'm NOT ALLOWED to cry, EVER, no matter how I feel, but I'm supposed to feel really bad when you do!

J: Why can't you cry mom? You said that last week too when we had a fight?

T: Maybe being violently dragged over the back of chair by the hair and thrown into a wall for crying was a permanent cure.

---

T: I am so finished. And he said, good, Go kill yourself.

---

He said she was the worst Latter-Day Saint person he knew.  That she didn't understand the family proclamation at all, or else she wouldn't do this to her family. That he just wanted her to love them.  

--- 

I should not have offered up to mediate between them.  I should have called my mom on it when she called me, spewed venom for two minutes that I didn't deserve, and hung up on me.  I should cut contact with all of them.  I gain nothing but heartache from their interactions, every single time. 

Fuck you.

 Fuck you for taking

and taking

and taking

and breaking everything.

Winter blues

Despair sinks into my bones

Slowly but surely

Like winter’s chill.

Every year it’s the same,

And I hate it.

 

I take every precaution.

I wrap myself in comfort

And make sure I get enough food and sleep.

I allow extra indulgences.

I try to keep communication lines open.

It’s not enough

To stave off the darkness.

 

My body grows leaden,

Exhausted and heavy.

My mind is buried in snow.

Everything is too much.

My give-a-damn breaks,

And I just want to sleep until spring

Or forever.

2020 update

Things are going fairly well, but I feel like everything that was settled is up in the air again or will be in the near future.

We may have to move.  If Matt gets out of jail and moves to Logan, we will.  But I don't know if he'll get out, and then I don't know where he'll move to.  But I can't/won't subject my family to the possibility of running into him at the grocery store or Grandma's house or wherever.  I need them to feel safe.

If we don't move, I probably want to change jobs.  This one is a dead end, and it's frustrating even on its good days.  I don't want to lose the proximity to David and Kyle, or the flexibility of hours, or the pay.  But I'm tired of beating my head against a wall.  I don't know what I want to do, though.  Something with limited humans, a steady stream of work, and where I can listen to music.  I know I've got to find something to do this summer for work while David finishes his book, but I'm not sure about that, either. 

David says he wants to go back to church, but then makes no attempt to follow through.  He's so depressed, and I think going back would make it worse. And then Rachel decides she's (mostly?) gay.  And I can see how well that will go over at church functions, or with grandparents who are all holding onto the church as their emotional lifeline.  While the church may work well for a lot of people, I think it would be currently damaging to my family in multiple ways. 

I do not want to visit my mother this summer.  I know I probably should go help her, because we didn't go last summer.  But AAFLSKDJASDLF.  She drives me crazy. 

I'm tired and I want to go home.  I want it to be spring.  I want to work part time and spend the rest of the time at home.  Sigh.

"My stomach hurts."
"Why?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"....."
"It's just that seeing his picture makes me feel sick."
"Oh."