Status: Never give up. You are enough.
No One Said It'd Be Easy.
Forty Five.
I can't decide which hurts more: Rachele or me.
I can't decide which is worse: holding your mom while she cries or being a disappointment to yourself and 99% of your peers.
Here was my day: 6AM, alarm goes off. I shut it off and go back to bed. Then, I hear my mom's voice so I know that I have to get up now. I do. I slowly get out of bed and make my way to the mirror to look at my disgusting bed-head and pale face. My mom comes into my room and asks me if I have any tests today. I told her I wasn't sure but I wouldn't be surprised if I have a Pop Quiz in English. She asked me to stay home. I said I didn't want to. She got mad. Keith got mad. So, my brother stayed home with the dog.
The reason my mom and Keith wanted us to stay home was because my parents are going to the Bahamas tomorrow, April 13, well supposed to be going anyway. My mom has to go for five days for work, all expenses paid and all she has to do is go to one stupid meeting and pretend to pay attention while people talk. They were supposed to receive their passports last week. My mom got hers but Keith did not get his. He called every day after my mom got hers and when his still didn't arrive, my parents got a little panic-y. So, two days before they leave, the stupid government decides, "Oh, let's send them a letter instead of just telling them the next time they call." Basically, the passport people didn't accept Keith's birth-certificate for whatever reason so the reason my mom wanted us to stay home was because it would have been a lot easier for them, since we only have one car at the moment. Keith was going to drive out of town to a nearby city and then out of state to try to work out this whole ordeal. But, at the last minute, my mom's friend scored Keith plane tickets to go to Chicago to have a meeting with the passport people to get his passport, then meet my mom in Miami then fly together to the Bahamas. So, at the moment, Keith is in Chicago.
My mom is so stressed. Which is not good. When my mom gets stressed she cries, throws up, can't eat, basically has complete melt-downs. She hasn't eaten in almost 3 days now. Today, I've held her hand and hugged her while she cried countless times. I kept a brave face and a smile on the whole time I was around her.
"Megan, will you come with me to drop-off Peanut at Kim's? I don't want to be alone."
"Sure thing, Mom!"
I know my mom isn't okay. She's scared. She's scared that Keith won't get his passport and that she's going to have to go to the Bahamas alone for five days. I know she tries to pretend, to hide the tears, but I see them even when she thinks she's doing a good job at pretending, I see them.
The reason I see these things is because I am the same way. Even with stress. I can't eat. I feel sick all the time. I cry too much. Which is why I barely eat lunch anymore.
My family is like a door; all the little wood chips fit together so closely, it takes a lot to tear down. But I'm the frame. I keep everyone together. I stay strong. I'm not complaining because I don't mind my role but my job gets 10x harder when you're holding your bawling mother, and you're holding back tears yourself.
That was my day. Fun stuff.
Rachele. She has the ability to make me feel wonderful, like the prettiest, smartest, funniest person in the world. And it's because we each starved for each others compliments to make the other feel superior. But, she also has the ability to tear me down, make me break, make me stop breathing. And she has. Four times in the past. I feel dead when I'm around her. I feel angry, upset, insane. I don't like who I am around her and now suddenly I'm the bad-guy because I took myself out of the equation of her little game. It's funny. We're not even friends anymore, but she's still hurting me. She's still breaking me. And she's doing all this without talking to me, without saying one word.
Maybe I am crazy.
I can't decide which is worse: holding your mom while she cries or being a disappointment to yourself and 99% of your peers.
Here was my day: 6AM, alarm goes off. I shut it off and go back to bed. Then, I hear my mom's voice so I know that I have to get up now. I do. I slowly get out of bed and make my way to the mirror to look at my disgusting bed-head and pale face. My mom comes into my room and asks me if I have any tests today. I told her I wasn't sure but I wouldn't be surprised if I have a Pop Quiz in English. She asked me to stay home. I said I didn't want to. She got mad. Keith got mad. So, my brother stayed home with the dog.
The reason my mom and Keith wanted us to stay home was because my parents are going to the Bahamas tomorrow, April 13, well supposed to be going anyway. My mom has to go for five days for work, all expenses paid and all she has to do is go to one stupid meeting and pretend to pay attention while people talk. They were supposed to receive their passports last week. My mom got hers but Keith did not get his. He called every day after my mom got hers and when his still didn't arrive, my parents got a little panic-y. So, two days before they leave, the stupid government decides, "Oh, let's send them a letter instead of just telling them the next time they call." Basically, the passport people didn't accept Keith's birth-certificate for whatever reason so the reason my mom wanted us to stay home was because it would have been a lot easier for them, since we only have one car at the moment. Keith was going to drive out of town to a nearby city and then out of state to try to work out this whole ordeal. But, at the last minute, my mom's friend scored Keith plane tickets to go to Chicago to have a meeting with the passport people to get his passport, then meet my mom in Miami then fly together to the Bahamas. So, at the moment, Keith is in Chicago.
My mom is so stressed. Which is not good. When my mom gets stressed she cries, throws up, can't eat, basically has complete melt-downs. She hasn't eaten in almost 3 days now. Today, I've held her hand and hugged her while she cried countless times. I kept a brave face and a smile on the whole time I was around her.
"Megan, will you come with me to drop-off Peanut at Kim's? I don't want to be alone."
"Sure thing, Mom!"
I know my mom isn't okay. She's scared. She's scared that Keith won't get his passport and that she's going to have to go to the Bahamas alone for five days. I know she tries to pretend, to hide the tears, but I see them even when she thinks she's doing a good job at pretending, I see them.
The reason I see these things is because I am the same way. Even with stress. I can't eat. I feel sick all the time. I cry too much. Which is why I barely eat lunch anymore.
My family is like a door; all the little wood chips fit together so closely, it takes a lot to tear down. But I'm the frame. I keep everyone together. I stay strong. I'm not complaining because I don't mind my role but my job gets 10x harder when you're holding your bawling mother, and you're holding back tears yourself.
That was my day. Fun stuff.
Rachele. She has the ability to make me feel wonderful, like the prettiest, smartest, funniest person in the world. And it's because we each starved for each others compliments to make the other feel superior. But, she also has the ability to tear me down, make me break, make me stop breathing. And she has. Four times in the past. I feel dead when I'm around her. I feel angry, upset, insane. I don't like who I am around her and now suddenly I'm the bad-guy because I took myself out of the equation of her little game. It's funny. We're not even friends anymore, but she's still hurting me. She's still breaking me. And she's doing all this without talking to me, without saying one word.
Maybe I am crazy.