those days never seem to end
I feel like walking away and not care, but I hope someone ask me to stay.
I feel like hiding in a hole somewhere dark and lonely, secretly hoping someone is looking for me.
I feel like going out and having some fun, laughing and playing, doing exactly the opposite of what I am feeling inside.
I feel like reaching out to someone, instead I just wait for someone to come around and ask me how I am and truly want to listen.
I feel I am capable of handling what’s going on, but I feel the need to be comforted and be patted on the shoulder.
I feel like sharing what’s on my heart and what’s on my mind, but I can’t find the right words, or the right ear.
She said not to use to much of the shampoo, detergent or hand wash since my brother bought it and he might get upset if we use too much.
She opens her old Bible study book in the middle of the night, reads the same sentence over and over again, and not get anywhere.
She asks money from my friend. She gives my friend an English Grammar book and ask him to look for the Four Gospels.
She goes on and on about “That day… when this and that happened” when ‘that day’ is anything from 3 months ago to 3 years ago.
She switches off the fridge, trying to save electricity when there is food in the fridge.
She talks in half truths and hides facts when talking. When confronted she just says we don’t know because there are many things we are not aware of.
Today I was out the entire day. I came home to a house in darkness. The grill door was closed but unlocked. The second wooden door was left ajar. The house smelt of urine. I came in, closed the door, switched on the lights and called for my mother. She came out of bed, and very angrily I asked her “Are you trying to invite the robbers in?” Her answer “Yes.”
I knew she was saying this to show defiance in her own way.
I discovered she didn’t eat anything. When I asked her why, she said the stores here charged her more because she isn’t a student. I had to stand in front of her and make her before she was willing to eat the bread I gave her.
For the past week, every day is an endurance test, every day is a challenge. From reasoning and talking to her, I turned to shouting and scolding her, now I am reduced to just keeping quiet and saying as little as I can and doing whatever little I can. I have run out of energy trying to keep up with her.
I go to school and act like everything is normal, but at home things are far from normal. If anything, my mother is only getting worse by the day. I turn up the music as I type these words, in hopes that the sound will drown out the frustration I feel deep inside.
posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 12:17 pm
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