Can’t Live With ‘Em…

Okay, so I’m having a pretty shitty day…or past few days, I should say. Because of family. What else, right? God, this is getting old.

Do you ever just get the notion to up and leave? To pack a bag–or a few–and just go? No looking back, no telephone call when you reach your destination, nothing. To just disappear–if only for a while?

Oh, how I want to do just that. Right now. I’m just so damn TIRED of it. Of all of it. The constant bickering and arguing. Pointing fingers and placing blame wherever, whenever. Feeling the constant weight of what’s expected of me. Wondering if it’s ever going to get better and knowing deep-down that it’s not. All of it.

We went to my family’s this weekend. I didn’t want to go. I’ve been sick all week and just wasn’t in the mood. But my sister had work to do at the school and she refused to leave the boys with my brother-in-law–who happens to be THEIR FATHER, by the way–all day, alone. Which is total and absolute bullshit, if you ask me. Hell, I do it every day. Why can’t he get a taste of what it’s like to take care of two small human beings for an entire day, completely on your own? It’s only fair, right? Right. Well, that wasn’t going to happen and I wasn’t in the mood to argue about it–as it gets me absolutely nowhere–so we all piled into the Acadia and headed for my grams’. My sister and the bro-in-law went to the school and I stayed at the house with the boys, my grams, mother, and the girls. Well, that was no fun. It was loud and crazy and absolute chaos, like usual. But then, I guess that’s to be expected when you’ve got a four and eight year old running around like banshees–and you add two needy 8-month-olds into the mix. Anyhow, trouble started the minute my sister/aunt got home from her “shrink appointment” between her, my mother, and my grams. She was home for about 10 minutes before she told my grams she was leaving to go to “the store” and that she’d be right back. Which in other words, pretty much translates into, “I’m leaving, shutting off my phone–so don’t bother calling–and don’t expect me back for hours–if at all.” Yep. It’s so typical for her that you just get used to it. She’s barely home to spend time with her kids, and when she is–she doesn’t do much with that anyhow, so it really doesn’t matter either way. Except to my mother…who’s quite vocal on the subject. She can’t stand it…and she has no problem letting everyone know that. That said, she and my grams–who’s given up trying to make my sister/aunt change her ways–tend to bump heads on the subject, so to speak. This weekend was no exception.

The moment my mother found out that she’d left AGAIN, she went at with my grams. Threats and words were thrown–most of them unkind and not appropriate for publication–and it was ridiculous. I get what my mother’s issue with it all is–it’s not right–but what, if anything, is there to actually do about it? Nothing. You can turn her into CPS or take her to family court, but all that’s going to do is uproot the kids and get tensions rising. There’s really nothing to do, but ignore it. I mean, the time to do something was years ago. At this point, it’s just plain pointless. But my mother doesn’t see it that way. She sees it as my grandmother letting her get away with it. Which, in a way, she is doing…but she’s got her reasons. She doesn’t see the point in wasting her breath–and as far as she’s concerned, so long as the kids are with her, it doesn’t matter to her where their mother is. But my mother cares. She’s obsessed with it. It’s ironic, really, considering she was no better with my brother, sister, and I than my sister/aunt is with her kids. My mother was constantly gone while we were growing up. And even when she was there, she had different priorities…and they weren’t us. My grams is the one who stepped in and took on the responsibility of raising us up…just like she’s doing for my sister/aunt’s kids now. My mother fails to see the resemblance though. I call it denial.

Anyhow, so they’re going at it and my mother’s trying to get me to side with her…and I was having none of it. I hate when she does that. When she bitches and complains about something that, let’s face it, isn’t going to change any time soon, if ever. I don’t care who’s right. And I refuse to take sides. It’s just better in the long run that I don’t, trust me. It’s pretty frustrating. I mean, are that they dumb that they don’t see why I got the hell out of there in the first place–or why I don’t like visiting much anymore? I mean, seriously. If it’s not one thing with them, it’s another. And I’m sick of playing referee. If they want to hash it out, then I say go for it. Let them. Just leave me the hell out of it.

So yeah, my sister and brother-in-law finally get back late that afternoon and we’re all sitting around the table. Something got said and I raised my voice–and my bro-in-law decided to open his damn mouth and “scold” me for talking too damn loud. Yeah, well…that pissed me off even more. And I made no secret of it either. I mean, really dude. You’re going to sit there and tell me that I’m too loud–and make some snide remark about how it’s the norm with my family, while in my family’s house–when your family is so loud and obnoxious that you can hear them from two houses away when they’re downstairs just having a normal conversation with one another? Seriously. I don’t think so. I don’t know who the hell he is, or where he gets off acting all prim and proper and superior, but I sure as hell have no patience for it. So I told my sister in no uncertain terms that she either says something to him, or that’s it. I’m done and gone. I’ll do it, too. I really will. Hell, I don’t care. I really don’t. I mean, I don’t have to be here. I could be down in Nashville already, like I’d originally planned instead of waiting for December, and they can find someone else to take care of their children. It’s no skin off my back.

And then they wonder why I refuse to stay. I honestly just want to record them for a day and show them the video afterwards so they can see how truly fucked up they all are. I mean, I’m fucked up, too…but they give dysfunction a bad name. No joke.

All I can do right now is to keep on, keeping on, so to speak. I keep telling myself that it’s just 3 1/2 more months. Just 3 1/2. Then I can go and never come back. I can leave all the drama and the petty bullshit and just go. I can’t wait. I’m literally counting down the days. Call it running away…but it’s better than staying. There’s nothing here. Just drama and bad memories. I want a fresh start…I need one. And god knows after the hell I’ve gone through in the past few years, I damn well deserve one. So, family or not–all I can say is to heck with ’em. If they want to destroy each other and fight like kids, then they’re welcome to do so. I just won’t be a part of it. Or a spectator. Not anymore. I’m done.

Just done.



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