Her mother goes up north over the summer. And my mom called me on Monday to call her Monday or Tuesday night to say bye to her. Well I didn't. I wasn't trying to be coldhearted, I just wasn't thinking about her. I've been just a smidge occupied lately. So, the phone is being turned off. Today was the last day to make $150.42 payment. Don't have it. So my Love suggests I call my mom today to let her know. Against my better judgement I do - thinking this way it will stop her from just showing up at my doorstep, convinced I'm dead or something. The conversation goes like this:
me: hey mom.
her: hey honey. did you call nanny? (what we call my grandmother)
me: *sigh* no, mom I didn't. Look, I don't want to get into it, I'm just calling to let you know that my phone will be disconnected and I don't know when it will be back on.
her: (outraged) why didn't you call her!? Did you forget? You forgot didn't you!
me: mom, no I didn't forget. Just drop it ok, I don't want to get into it.
her: I can't believe you didn't call her
me: mom! Look, ok, I'm depressed. Leave me alone. I don't want to get into it.
her: About the phone bill....? I don't understand what being depressed has to do with it.
me: (crying and yelling at this point) no mom, in general. I hate life and I'm severly depressed just stop it already
her: what does being depressed have to do with it? Why didn't you just pick up the....
me: (yelling) NEVERMIND! I DIDN'T CALL FOR THIS I JUST CALLED TO LET YOU KNOW YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO CALL ME. LOVE YOU MOM, BYE.
-- I hung up. --
So then mrs fucking tact herself writes me one of her infamous guilt emails that goes on and on about how I just need to get a job and ride the bus and blah blah blah. No you dumb fucking bitch, I DON'T just need a job - I'm FUCKING DEPRESSED. Getting a job isn't going to make that go away. I'm not emotionally stable to handle my life right now, you think that some piss fucking $5/hr job will make it all the much better? Especially when I'm worth so much more then that with my experience and knowledge alone? Oh yeah, I'll feel so much more "self respect" as the fucking fry cook at McDonalds (oh, no, there's nothing "wrong" with demoting yourself to that point when you're 26 fucking years old and made more in a month then they do a year), no, not at all. That'll perk me right up. Then she goes on to insult me saying how when I was in high school I was a "dynamo" and went to school and worked and how now I'm just a loser. Thank a lot mom. It's berate, berate, berate. Fucking guilt trip from hell. She goes on how I'm being selfish because I won't think of my Love - how dare I say I love him when I won't think about him. Oh fuck off. I can't stand her some times. I can't take this kind of bullshit in my inbox and on my voicemail. She just doesn't fucking know when to quit. She doesn't grasp that HER WORDS make me feel worse, that her fucking emails are salt in my wounds and when I say FUCKING DROP IT, I mean don't continue to fucking go on and on about it. ARG.
~ flowers bloom near Memory and Dream
at 7/16/2003 07:59:10 PM ~
~
