there’s no place like home for the holidays

I got back into Bloomington today around 16.30 or so.  I was at one of Donovan’s concerts last night and didn’t get to his apartment until 2.30.  This, of course, meant that I didn’t make it to bed until after 4.00, and he didn’t make it to bed until 5.00 (he gets antsy at weird hours of the night).  So when my alarm went off at 8.00 this morning, I decided to ignore my original plans of leaving for home at 10.00 and slept in until 11.00.  I ended up leaving town a little after 13.00, which was difficult enough as is.

I was doing really well on the trip up here.  I didn’t have a panic attack at Donovan’s, even though I thought I was going to, and I was trying to keep a positive outlook on the whole situation.  I did cry a little in the car, but that was only for a second and then I was okay.  Well, not okay, really, but capable.

I spent about an hour at home chilling with my da and brother and talking about school stuff.  The next two hours were spent bitching about my grandparents.  Finally, about an hour ago, I got sick of it and went downstairs.  I haven’t been upstairs since despite the fact that my mother ‘was wondering about watching a movie’.  Fuck it.  No.  I can’t handle that right now.

I know my grandparents are sick.  I understand that.  I know it’s frustrating.  Yes, okay, fine, that makes sense.  I am well-aware of the whole fucked-up situation that we are in right now because, you know something?  It’s all you ever tell me about.  There is nothing else my mother talks to me about.  Either do something about it, or quit whining.  Jesus.

And she wants me to go over there and ‘help’.  And I’m willing to do that because, yes, I feel guilty.  I’m at school while my mum and brother and, most importantly, my da are stuck dealing with all this shit.  I feel kind of bad about that.  But she’s unwilling to distract my grandparents so that I can actually achieve something while over at their house.  And Grandpa isn’t making Grandma keep her leg up so she’s getting worse and he never should’ve brought her home in the first place and everyone’s bitching about it but no one’s actually doing something about it and it’s ridiculous.  This is all so fucking contrived.

And my grandma’s going to die in that awful house.  And my grandpa’s going to kill her.

And I never thought I’d hate my grandpa, but I do.  There.  I said it.  I do.

And I was the only kid I know at school who wasn’t looking forward to going home for holiday.

And I’m crying.

And I don’t know why I didn’t just try and bunk down in Centralia for the month.

An eternity of boring married life in Southern Illinois is looking so appeasing right now.  Fuck.  Why did I come here?

Advertisements

1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Asbjorn
    Dec 16, 2008 @ 13:35:22

    Because some day you will be an infirmed old lady in pain and set in her ways. Hopefully, of course, you will remember this period in your life and do the best you can not to repeat the mistakes of those who have gone before you. Learning patience with your relatives is the hardest lesson of all. I have never fully learned it, and my family is not at all close because none of us are very patient with any of the others.

    But once again, you can do anything for a limited amount of time. Just tell yourself, this will be past soon. You’ll get to go back to Cdale and live in the world of people who aren’t breaking down and who are still open to new ideas. Struggle to stay in that world.

    And be nice to your Da and your bro, and be extra patient with your mother. All the while you will be telling yourself that you get to leave here momentarily.

    The days shorten for another week. Then the wheel turns. Hooray. Spring is more than just a rumour.

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: