9:49 p.m. - 03/26/03
::a vision of you ... carried me through::
Prepare for a fully-fledged parentally-focused rant. I consider it my duty as a teenager to meet a certain quota of these, and I really have not been doing my part. So here goes.
I really do not appreciate that when I hand over my computer privileges so you can finish some business you pushed past the last-minute, you thank me by turning off the music playing from a speaker less than three feet away (from me.) I really do not appreciate when, hearing me comment on this, you say it was a reflex, and you're sorry, but *don't turn the cd back on.* And then I get on the computer to find you've closed out of the entire program, instead of simply pausing or hell, stopping the program. But hey, it was a reflex.
And I don't mean to blow the small things out of proportion. It's simply the way the small things look when the big things start to build up around them. I hate this bullshit between you and Dad. I mean, I really hate this bullshit. (And on that note, Dad; no, I will not act like an accomodating 7-yr-old and dote on you gratefully. You don't know what you're doing, and you're supposed to be a parent. You aren't in charge of your own life at age 50. That's making my life rather difficult, more than it already was. But anyway: Mom.) I hate that this is nothing new, nothing new at all. The two of you manipulating me in ways that I didn't even realize when I was younger. I think Internet is evil because of my father. Plain and simple, that's the reason. My dad soiled the Internet by looking at porn on it (and not realizing that my mother didn't know this, I made a frustrated joke about it in her presence) and more to the point by screaming at me for being online. (Me being online = the reason his business failed. Well, that and 9/11.) My mom has done the same thing with television, and if you may remember, television has been around a great deal longer. Watching television is a sin. It's something that lethargic, unintelligent, fat people do. Would my politically correct, articulate, good-hearted mother ever say this? No. But she taught me this. She doesn't watch television, and I mean almost never. I've hooked her on one show (Judging Amy) but other than that, she's done. She won't sit for it. She won't sit with me if I'm watching it. It's something my dad does, all the time. My dad is very good at lying around doing nothing in front of the tv. My dad is very good at allowing television to aid his sloth. My dad is lethargic (depressed) and acts like Homer Simpson (though he's not unintelligent) and he is, indeed, overweight. Has been my entire life. Has so-called "disordered eating." (He eats poorly, compulsively at times, but it's not threatening his life, so he doesn't get help. Which is silly to me, but then, many things are.) Anyway. Since my eating disorder is raging right now (not to say I didn't eat three good meals today, damnit), I feel, sitting in front of the television, like the fat is boiling up on me. Brain cells are replaced with fat cells, and shame grows exponentially. Because of the fucking television. Because I know Deena on Survivor fucking rocks the island, and I watched Julia DeMato get voted off American Idol. But I'm no good. My mom came home from work (finally) and she wouldn't sit in the room with my dad and me because she hates television. It's basically an ethical issue. If we're going to do that, she's not going to join us. We can do *that* on our own time. And I totally fucking buy into it. I hate her for it, and I hate my dad, too. You know I believe this thing that I don't think either of them even meant to engineer? I believe my dad is weak and overweight and less respectable, while my mom is dominant and taut and tall and meant to be bowed down to. I understand this is a common dynamic in eating disorders, though often in the opposite genders. But you know, I've never told anyone, in detail. I hate it. I hate thinking I'm weak if I'm fat, when I would never think that about someone who's overweight- never, except with my dad. I've seen him get pummeled so many times. And then burst like some fucking volcano and be gone. I just want them to say, "You're so great, Mary" and tell me they love me because they do and not because they want to see if I'll say it back, or they're in the habit of doing so. And I want them to say, "God, you're just like your mom" or "...your dad" and just once have it be a compliment. Just once. I want them to not talk shit about each other, and not make me try and be the girl they both want. I'll eat totally organic food with my mom and then chow down on fucking chicken and dumplings with my dad. I'll go to goddess circle dances and drum with my mom and I'll attend Catholic masses with my dad. I'll be smart and quick but still bow to my mom, and I'll be silly and fun and low-energy with my dad. And then when I'm completely ripped in half, maybe I'll be able to grow some new self that doesn't have anything to do with either of them.
It doesn't have to wait until then. I know. I can grow that new self now. It's just hard some nights. Actually, it's hard every night and every day, but sometimes it's really hard. Sometimes it's really hard to admit to myself that Rogers wasn't the only place I was raised. I have another legacy, too, and if I want to heal it, I have to feel it. Damn that...sometimes.
I can see Friday's session shaping up: "Ok. I really don't want to talk about them the whole time because I'll feel like that's my whole life again, and it can't be right now...but...my parents..." Next week is April. Next week I can start systematic desensitization if I'm up to it. Next week I can take the first really small steps toward independence, toward my own life, and until then, I can come clean about what I really in-my-skin believe and start to recognize that it isn't my fault I learned lies. It isn't my fault I loved both my parents no matter what they thought of each other, and it isn't my fault that I want to be more than they are. Or different than they are. It isn't my fault that I have another family who taught me other dreams.
I thought of Brea tonight, and how I'm going to hear from her, and how she's in my life, and it made it easier. And writing this, I want Jenna so badly, but it's ok that I have who I have. That's ok. I just need someone right now, and I have more than one someone. Thank the stars...God, I'm so grateful this isn't all I know of the world anymore. I'm so so so glad for that.
Music is how a drowning girl breathes. So many songs about "you're going to make it" and "you're going to get away" and I just listen to them over and over again and try to believe. Believe, sing back. Sing, "hell, if I'm drowning, I'll grow gills...You won't take this life away from me."
chord
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