Ok, I'm back, for the moment. What a weird time its been recently.
Having, (and allowing, no less!) my boundaries to be broken big time by someone. (What a reality check *that* was!)
Sometimes I think it's like I've been like a vacum in some ways, over the years.... ''Take my life, in bits and pieces. Its yours to have, anyone, take it. Chip away at as many little fucking pieces as you want. I don't mind being eaten away at. Maybe I already am....'' (eaten away at). Although obviously I didn't see it that way. I'm seeing it that way now.
I often wonder if I have boundaries, more like I'm desperately trying to build them, and build myself back from nothing, (or very little...)
Enough about that, for now.
The other day, I was in the toilet, late at night. My Grandfather was still up watching television, and seemingly desperate to get in, after I'd been in a bit.
'*****, can I get into the toilet?' came the voice from outside the door, not in an annoyed/pissed off manner, by any means, but it made me uncharacteristically angry.
Usually my response would have been....'Oh..er...yeah, just be a minute', after quickly finishing what I was doing, and not even thinking.
But the words slipped out of my mouth, automatically, like the most natural (albeit what seemed (pleasantly) 'unusual') thing....
'Yeh!!! Can you just wait a minute????' (Clearly annoyed, and not giving a shit)
Something about it, (and I have been trying real hard to think a way to put this, but it always escapes me) pissed me off. (As always, I'll probably go on to define it clearly, despite that statement
).
Lack of regard/respect.
The way it was said, or happened, made me feel like 'I' was not actually in the toilet. Like 'I' wasn't actually in the bathroom,
using it !
(Like the time he drunkenly asked me if my dinner was coming along fine in the oven, to which I replied 'er..yeh, thanks', only to find half of it missing when I went to take it out.)
And it occurred to me....Had it been my mother in the bathroom, not a word would have been said. He would have pissed himself, (well not really, more like gone elsewhere, with a bottle handy). Because I see now...I have obviously taken on a role of not being taken too seriously. It makes sense when I realise how I've been within 'the family' at times.
Its quite unreal, how much my grandfather can allow my mother to rule the roost. Its so very sad, too. And yet, paradoxically.....I can recal my mother, even into her recent years, going on dates, and having to ask her boyfriend to pick her up round the corner, out of sight of the house, fearing diasapproval of her boyfriends, or like she was being a naughty teenager or something. Insane.
Memory: My mother arguing in the kitchen with him, and his 'concerns' about me, when out and about as a kid.
'What???? What am I supposed to do??? Do you expect me to keep him indoors 24/7 like you did with me???
(later, my mother would deny ever saying such a thing to him, in my presence, when it was brought up by me in an argument. Not unusually.)
I have the feeling it's because he has to depend on her. Sometimes I wonder if theres some sort of struggle going on there, whereby both act in accordance with keeping things in place. My grandfather needs my mother, but doesn't need her. He has just
allowed himself to be looked after. My mother couldn't live without him, because she'd be constantly worrying about him, (if he did live alone, man,
would he drink, I reckon, (compared to how he does now, which is somewhat moderate, for someone who drinks a lot (?))).
Its nuts, and I can't fathom what's at play. Does it matter? I'm not totally sure.
But my mother in her chaotic state had enough to worry about bringing me up, and it should possibly piss me off a tad, when I think of the fact she was, in a sense, looking after two children, at times. Maybe I should have had more of the attention?
Sure he worked hard. But why was his daughter making dinner for him every day, playing housekeeper? And making his lunch, collecting his prescriptions, clearing up after him? My family was always tightly nit. I.e. different generations living together.
What should have happened is....my mother should have got a place of her own. (So the baby wouldn't drive daddy nuts with its screaming and shouting when he was trying to sleep, *ahem* seemingly all the time, unless he was working.)
Daddy would have, in good will, supported his daughter, (if he wasn't spending the money on beer). Ah hell, maybe he didn't get paid much.
But surelly any mother can get a house of her own with a kid. Where we really
that poor???
Another memory: Its a thursday night, and they are arguing again. Because he's been paid, and came home via the pub, of course, (and in these days, can barely stand, by the time closing time comes).
'Well!' (my mother shouts) 'If your not happy (with what I'm not sure, probably my mothers ragging on him), then find us a house! You, find us a house, tomorrow then!
What was stopping her finding a house?
And it got me to thinking, what the fuck is going on there???
Another memory. I was wearing a cross. I was a teenager. Not religious, just jewelery, y'know? I was sitting in the living room. And all of a sudden, my grandfather exclaims, angrily, out of the blue... ''Whats that???? I hope thats not...blah blah blah'' (I forget the exact words, but he clearly didn't approve of it, if it was religious. Come to think of it, I think he thought it suggested catholic leanings or something, 'the family' being protestant, and all (although never doing much to actually back up having
these leanings)), although it was just a heavy metal sorta cross with bands round it and all....
My mother sat there. Saying fuck all. Do I see something wrong with this picture? I was upset. It must have shown in my face. Its funny really. Father and daughter shouldn't be that close. But then again, I doubt they even ARE. Its more likelly to do with the fucked up scenario, that has transpired and dependancy issues. But her just fucking sitting there, allowing that, and he shouldn't even be fucking THERE in the first place.
I spoke to my mother about my dad yesterday. YAY!!!!!!
I was really angry, and thankfully as result, free of anxiety (boy I must have been pissed off!).
I'd been drawing, and as always, fucking NOTHING was working out right, so I asked her if he was artistic. And you know what? After that one question, it came natural to ask more, because I didn't care. I had every right to be asking these things, without concern about how it might make
her feel, without feeling uneasy. Without feeling I was in the fucking wrong.
Naturally, after her replies, came the much expected 'Why?'.
Why did she ask that? I have no idea. One of two things possibly... *Paranoia (''Oh no! ***** hates me. I'm an awful person. What have I done wrong?'') *Or....theres things she doesn't want to tell me. Time will tell. And,
if there
are things she doesn't want to tell me, which she wants to hide, things which I would hate her for (I'm saying only
if mind)....then I certainly hope she is worried at my newly found interest.
*Oh, it could also be because ''we wouldn't want to hurt ***** would we, by telling him things that might hurt him?'', so that could be another reason, but I think that'd be bullshit, and not a real reason, more or less....
Anyway, slight update and ramblings.
