Some become lovers because of sex
and some you know, they just become friends
In our case we just became bad at it all
And never got good at it again.– Butch Walker, ATL
Mom and I had a fight.
Not surprising in and of itself, we fight a lot. The difference this time is that I got up and left. The initial skirmish was over, but I still left the house.
I left with panic numbing every nerve of my body. I was shaking and crying, but I packed up everything that I knew I couldn’t live without or replace, told dad that I’d be “back tomorrow,” and left. Before I left, I made sure my bed was made, my room somewhat clean and my laundry put away.
Thank god J. was in town, because his cool logic kept me from bawling my eyes out in public. (It totally doesn’t count if you’re crying while driving or in the gas station, right?)
After I dropped him off, I went to my cousin’s apartment. It never occured to me that she wouldn’t let me stay, or that she’d think I was wrong.
I was accepted by her and her husband not just for one night, but for two. And the offer to stay more if I wanted. She took me apartment hunting today and then let me come back after I went home.
I went home to try and work things out. Not because I thought leaving was wrong on my part (maybe not my smartest move, but I’ve never been that panicked — I needed out and I needed out RIGHT THEN before my head or mouth exploded).
I went back because I felt that it was the adult thing to do. I told my mother that I left because I needed time and space to think about some things. That I didn’t like the way she talked to me sometimes, and that despite everything I wanted us to be friends. I also told her that the best solution I could come up for for our recurring arguements was for me to move out.
She told me that I didn’t take responsibility for the things I did, that I was causing a deterioration of her relationship with my father and that if I left then all he would ever see when he looked at her was that she drove me out.
She said that if I left now, we would never be friends. She said that I always made her out to be the bad guy
She also said that the only reason my dad ever stuck up for me was because I wasn’t honest with him.
She was right.
I’m not honest with him. I’m not honest with her. So after we finished our talk, I went and found dad.
And I ‘fessed up. Dad, I smoke and I take antidepressants.
He was more concerned about me being on antidepressants than the smoking.
I left home with the feeling that I would never speak another civil word to my mother, and a determination to get out and make it on my own. The nausea and headache are her bad juju inside me, I tell myself. I CAN do this and I will make it work.
I am a grown woman and I will make it through life on my own.
Anyone want to help me move?
