5:30 p.m. - 12/14/01
despite all my rage/ i am still just a rat in a cage..>
I am sitting here listening to MY music in her broken headphones, and I don't even know why I'm so angry, but I know that it is pointless at this moment in time for us to try and work on it. It is pointless for her to pull the eternity-of-mother-daughter-relationships card because in the end, I don't care. Right now, I *do not* care. I just want to box and scream and blare loud music and when I'm not even allowed to do that without her censoring me, I start replacing my imaginary punching bag with her face...high karate kicks to her right eye. It's sad and violent and sickening but God, I don't know what else to do.
I'm so pissed off right now, and I don't know how I'm going to handle it, considering that even if I do get accepted to that school, I can't go until next fall. What am I going to do for this semester? I keep coming up with lovely ideas, but what it comes down to is, I always have to come home, I always have to have this roof over my ehad, I always have to find a place to sleep.
It really is a good thing I don't drive/ have a car because I'm inclined to believe I'd park it somewhere secluded and forget this whole experience.
Harriet, the new therap, asked me last night about what it was like for me to be in the room with my mom (they started the session off doing business things.) Apparently, I appeared as tense as I felt internally. I told her it was difficult, that I got irritable, that I felt angry and tired and sad. (Lonely.) She asked me if I felt okay about being angry, and I told her I did when I understood *why* I was angry. I don't like not knowing; I don't like being unsure whether or not it's justified. And I did not know why I was angry with her last night, though I've figured it out since.
She keeps going off on the therapists about who's keeping track of my state because she's all freaked out that *she* was the one who said residential was necessary, that no one else was keeping tabs on me, blah blah blah. (I'm glad she put me in residential when she did, but I seriously doubt that most parents would have thought that was the next logical step...let alone most doctors.) And then she went off on this whole thing about how before I went into the hospital I mentioned to one of my doctors that I was concerned I might start cutting again, and she wasn't told. That was the kind of thing she'd want to be aware of, she said, and I didn't know what to think. They can only break confidentiality over a safety concern, and is *potential* cutting a safety concern? They don't put you in the hospital for saying, "I might restrict." It didn't make sense, but I understood her point of view. Harriet was good, didn't allow herself to be manipulated, said something beautiful (sincere but potentially patronizing) about how scary that must have been for my mom.
(Patronizing only because implying that my mother is human goes against everything she wants to believe.)
ANYWAY...what really bothers me is that she expects to be told things. She expects me to instantly relate with her the way a daughter should. It's bullshit. I mean, the woman wasn't there for me *at all* for years, and now she wants me to come running to her with every need, when she dropped that ball *several times?* When I'm SO ANGRY with her?
I'm sorry, but I can't be productive right now. In fact, I'm extremely relieved she can't make it to the psych session tomorrow. I'm going to ask my dad to drop me off, so that I can't have some time alone (right off) with the doctor. I want to discuss the family work with him because I'm not interested in working on it. I don't think I'll be constructive. I hate my mother right now, and I don't want to change that. I just want to hate her. I want to feel this anger, I don't want to fuel it, or do anything about it, I just want to feel it and scream and hit things. That's how I feel like handling it for now, and every move she makes, every noise she makes is like another tick of the timebob in between my shoulders...
I'm going to tell him that I resent her for not getting help when I've been working so hard, and I'm so irritated by her sudden need to be my mother after years of fucking up, that I shut her out. I'm going to suggest I stay out of the family therapy until my mother has begun some individual work. I'm negotiable, so it's not *quite* an ultimatum, but that's how I feel: If she doesn't want to work on herself, I'm not working on my relationship with her.
Because I did lose it and act like a total ass just now, but so much of the time I'm calm and I talk with her the way one would a small child...I keep waiting for her to catch on, but every now and again, it's just too much. I AM THE KID. I AM THE FUCKING KID.
Oh, and my father's meds aren't working. His eyes twitch and he jumps whenever people make sudden movements.
And there's the possibility he's going to jail for fraud.
I've heard stories about homeless people who commit crimes just so they can stay in jails. I wonder how the shit-to-fan ratios would compare...
boxerchord
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