michaeljr915 (michaeljr915) wrote,

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I went to work today with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach... I couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong.

I came home today with that same sick feeling.

I lay down in my dad's room for a few minutes while my mom pitstopped so we could go out to Lowes to pick up insulation for my (attic) bedroom. (Apparently my brother's been complaining non-stop to her about how cold he is when he sleeps, especially since he wears basically nothing but underwear to bed, kicks off the covers, and regularly opens a window near his bed.)
So anyway, Dad tells me how Mom's extremely mad at him because he's not able to use his hands to do anything around the house or make himself meals and whatever. Which is a bullshit excuse, because there's nothing that can be done to fix his hands, as they're basically destroyed by scarred muscle tissue... Realistically, he has a pair of claws with thumbs.

So I drive her to Lowes. And apparently I drove past a bunch of 'close' parking spots, and I drive one row past the entrance, and park in the fourth spot. We get out. We get halfway to the door - I'm checking my voicemail - and she flips out and says, You know what, I don't want to deal with your fucking shit, get back in the fucking car and take me the fuck home.

So I get her home. She comes storming into my room, knocking Christmas boxes over, to collect my dirty clothes - which I usually do when laundry day comes.

Then she's downstairs hammering away at something.

Then next thing I hear is a whole lot of glass breaking... I go downstairs and apparently she tore the six by six foot knickknack shelf off the wall, breaking almost all the trinkets and mugs and stuff.

I hate when she goes apeshit like this.
I am the kind of person who holds emotions and things inside because a lot of the time it's just a whole lot easier to do than to let it out, or deal with some things.
My mom is Empire-State-Building head-and-shoulders above that.

Granted, it has been many years since she's gone apeshit like this, but it doesn't make it any easier to witness, even if I'm not looking directly at it or having it done to me.

I want to cry.
I want to run away from it.
I want to bash her fucking face in and tell her to knock it the fuck off. (But I very well can't, can I.)

I want out of this place.
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