A Shitty Week
It's been a shitty week.
There were moments of everything being mellow but then there was shit the rest of the time.
I've managed to avoid my Dad whenever I've stopped by my house, by coincidence it's been while he's out. I don't want to hear him call me stupid or tell me that I'm not doing things right or get mad/yell at me again. I know that this will continue to happen every step I take towards moving out and buying my own place, but it takes a lot of energy out of me. I can't take it any more from him.
I began to realise today that some of the conditions that I grew up in were not good and kind of abusive. A couple of weeks ago I saw a story on the news about foster children who were removed from a foster family because of the condition of the house they were living in. The news showed the kitchen with dirty dishes everywhere, rotten food in the fridge and on the counter, disgusting litter boxes that hadn't been cleaned in over a week, broken appliances/furniture and generally messy house. I started to cry. Quite a bit of these scenes looked like my house did when I was growing up. It wasn't good enough for foster children to live in, but it was for me. I don't know if my Dad saw that story, but I hope he did. Not that he would even see any resemblance because he doesn't fuckin' get anything.
For over 3.5 years I lived with no power or heat in my bedroom. And my Dad refused to get it looked at by an electrician because my room was not clean, even though for periods of time during those years it was spotless and I wasn't even living in it. The living room where one of the TVs was didn't have power either, so we ran several extension cords into the room. Dad finally let an electrician come when I began to paint my bedroom. As it turns out there was nothing wrong with any of the outlets in my room, the problem with the circut was with a light switch in the living room. I can remember sleeping with 3 blankets on my bed in the winter time, and in a sweatshirt several times because I was just getting to cold and wasn't able to sleep otherwise. Sometimes it was colder than camp gets in the uninsulated cabins at night. I was used to using candles in my room and in the living room for light so that I could read and study. I got in a shit a few times for wax getting on the carpet and the tables, because of course it was my fault that I had to have a candle lit.
Whenever Dad gets frustrated he gets angry and tries to blame me for it. I could have nothing to do with what happened but I seem to be the target of his anger. Even if I'm just in the house and at the other end of the house he is freakin' out at the frying pan on the stove, he'll still yell at me for it. Because in his mind the pan is splattering all over the bread box because I left the lid down on the bread box, not because it is 6 inches away from the stove. Or when he drops a glass in the sink and it shatters, which is my fault because if I loaded the dishwasher then he wouldn't have to touch the dishes (including his own). Or when I was 7 and I slipped on the kitchen floor and dropped my empty cereal bowl and it smashed into a bunch of pieces or when I spilt milk on the chair in the living room. I would always try really hard to cover up any mistake because I knew he would yell at me. And I would get upset and cry. That would result in him getting mad at me for crying.
All this and Wednesday was the 21st anniversary of mom's death. No one from my family called or emailed me. Even though we all knew what day it was. I kept myself so busy that day, worked all day, spent only half an hour by myself, went out that night and then finally had a break down after I left my friends. I was so tired and at first I couldn't figure out why. It made Thursday a really hard day to convince myself to get out of bed...I almost didn't bother. But I knew that I had a meeting scheduled at work.
One friend moved like 6 hours away for work and another finished his contract and is in Quebec and then Ghana this summer, not coming back to BC until the fall. The two of them have been such amazing friends and so supportive this year and in previous years. It sucks that I won't have as many chances to be face to face with them. I know that they are just an email away though.
And then this evening I got stuck in the Massey tunnel driving from Vancouver to White Rock for 10 minutes! I cried and I prayed so hard until I was out in the open again hearing the music on the radio. It was so scarey! I had no control over it, there was no warning, a car in the other lane had just stalled so everyone had to merge into my lane. It was awful.
There were moments of everything being mellow but then there was shit the rest of the time.
I've managed to avoid my Dad whenever I've stopped by my house, by coincidence it's been while he's out. I don't want to hear him call me stupid or tell me that I'm not doing things right or get mad/yell at me again. I know that this will continue to happen every step I take towards moving out and buying my own place, but it takes a lot of energy out of me. I can't take it any more from him.
I began to realise today that some of the conditions that I grew up in were not good and kind of abusive. A couple of weeks ago I saw a story on the news about foster children who were removed from a foster family because of the condition of the house they were living in. The news showed the kitchen with dirty dishes everywhere, rotten food in the fridge and on the counter, disgusting litter boxes that hadn't been cleaned in over a week, broken appliances/furniture and generally messy house. I started to cry. Quite a bit of these scenes looked like my house did when I was growing up. It wasn't good enough for foster children to live in, but it was for me. I don't know if my Dad saw that story, but I hope he did. Not that he would even see any resemblance because he doesn't fuckin' get anything.
For over 3.5 years I lived with no power or heat in my bedroom. And my Dad refused to get it looked at by an electrician because my room was not clean, even though for periods of time during those years it was spotless and I wasn't even living in it. The living room where one of the TVs was didn't have power either, so we ran several extension cords into the room. Dad finally let an electrician come when I began to paint my bedroom. As it turns out there was nothing wrong with any of the outlets in my room, the problem with the circut was with a light switch in the living room. I can remember sleeping with 3 blankets on my bed in the winter time, and in a sweatshirt several times because I was just getting to cold and wasn't able to sleep otherwise. Sometimes it was colder than camp gets in the uninsulated cabins at night. I was used to using candles in my room and in the living room for light so that I could read and study. I got in a shit a few times for wax getting on the carpet and the tables, because of course it was my fault that I had to have a candle lit.
Whenever Dad gets frustrated he gets angry and tries to blame me for it. I could have nothing to do with what happened but I seem to be the target of his anger. Even if I'm just in the house and at the other end of the house he is freakin' out at the frying pan on the stove, he'll still yell at me for it. Because in his mind the pan is splattering all over the bread box because I left the lid down on the bread box, not because it is 6 inches away from the stove. Or when he drops a glass in the sink and it shatters, which is my fault because if I loaded the dishwasher then he wouldn't have to touch the dishes (including his own). Or when I was 7 and I slipped on the kitchen floor and dropped my empty cereal bowl and it smashed into a bunch of pieces or when I spilt milk on the chair in the living room. I would always try really hard to cover up any mistake because I knew he would yell at me. And I would get upset and cry. That would result in him getting mad at me for crying.
All this and Wednesday was the 21st anniversary of mom's death. No one from my family called or emailed me. Even though we all knew what day it was. I kept myself so busy that day, worked all day, spent only half an hour by myself, went out that night and then finally had a break down after I left my friends. I was so tired and at first I couldn't figure out why. It made Thursday a really hard day to convince myself to get out of bed...I almost didn't bother. But I knew that I had a meeting scheduled at work.
One friend moved like 6 hours away for work and another finished his contract and is in Quebec and then Ghana this summer, not coming back to BC until the fall. The two of them have been such amazing friends and so supportive this year and in previous years. It sucks that I won't have as many chances to be face to face with them. I know that they are just an email away though.
And then this evening I got stuck in the Massey tunnel driving from Vancouver to White Rock for 10 minutes! I cried and I prayed so hard until I was out in the open again hearing the music on the radio. It was so scarey! I had no control over it, there was no warning, a car in the other lane had just stalled so everyone had to merge into my lane. It was awful.
posted by Womyn in Troubled Waters at 12:47 AM
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