Annilova

Why I never called my house a home

September 30th, 2011
"Noelle! Wake up!"
"Ohhhh Mum! Stop ruining my life!", I said putting the pillow over my face.
"I'm waking you up, Noelle!"
"Well, ruining one's life and waking them up are just the same thing."
I opened my eyes and looked at my sister's bed.
"Why is Flora still sleeping?"
"I'll wake her up in a minute.", said mum as she left the room.
"GIVE ME ONE REASON WHY YOU WAKE ME UP FIRST EVERY SINGLE DAY!", I shouted in the most annoying voice.
I heard her footsteps coming closer to the room. She stood at the door with her arms folded.
"Because you need an hour to get ready. Flora only needs 15 minutes."
"Because she got the straight hair from dad, which doesn't need half an hour of brushing. But I got the curly hair from you! It's not my fault, mum! It's genetics!"
"Pufff! Just get out of bed!"
I looked at Flora's bed again and couldn't help waking her up.
"Flora!", I shouted.
"FLOORRRAAAA!!!!", I screamed and threw my pillow at her.
She dealt with the pillow exactly how I dealt with a house fly, except for the swearing. She just waved her arm to push the pillow to the ground.
"My god! I'm sick of this house.", I said with a look of disgust on my face.
I pulled my cell phone from under my other pillow.
The date read: "Friday, September 30th."
I threw the cell phone on the bed and ran towards the kitchen.
"IT'S FRIDAY, MUM!! Why the hell are you waking us up?"
"To study. It's 1pm."
Let me introduce my mother.
Dr. Louis Gilbert. A professor at medical school and a pediatrician. A really successful pediatrician, actually.
She fell for her job harder than she did for my father. And her only hope is to see me-and not necessarily Flora-a doctor just like her. So, her number one concern was school, studying, homework, and stuff like that.
Not my social life, not my mental health, not my psychological state, nothing else! Just school.
"It's 12:15 for God's sake! When will you stop rushing time forward?"
"When you start getting things done.", she said as she cracked an egg.
"Where's dad?"
"Sleeping."
"See? Why the hell does he get to sleep when I don't?"
"Stop shouting! You'll wake him up!"
You know Monster Inc.? Where every child had his own monster? Waking dad up was my monster.
Dad was the kind of man who would throw something at, or beat the shit out of anyone who woke him up. Even if the person didn't mean to. I remember when I was 7 and Flora was 5, we were once fighting over a bar of chocolate. We were screaming at each other, and mum and dad were sleeping. Dad woke up and hit us both with a leather belt. It left a sign on my left knee for months after.
I was about to leave the kitchen when mum added:
"David was here this morning. He asked about you and Flora. If you finish studying before 6pm, you can go and see him at grandma's."
David was my cousin. The son of Uncle Arnold, dad's brother. He was four years younger than me. And all my cousins were younger than me anyway. I was the eldest grand-daughter.
He had a sister, Hannah. She was two years younger than him.
Grandma's house was the one right next to ours. And I spent my whole life trying to decide whether it was a good or a bad thing.
"What do you want us to get ready for then?", I asked.
"Aunt Amy is on her way."
"With her children?", I asked as I jumped in excitement.
"No.", she said in the coldest way. Aunt Amy was one of mum's three sisters. She had three-year-old twins, a boy and a girl. And a two-year-old girl.
I'd always loved children so, I enjoyed spending time with them.
I wanted to ask mum why they weren't coming, but her cold answer forced me to leave the kitchen quietly.
That was how she usually acted towards anything I showed interest in. She was worried that something would distract me from studying.
And as a stubborn girl, her attitude made me not study at all.
I remember how I cried myself to sleep for days because of her. Because when I came to tell her how my day was, she shouted at me to go and do my homework. Because when she saw me crying, she shouted at me to stop crying just because I would be too tired to wake up for school the following day.
I knew she wanted what was best for me. I never had any doubts about that. But sometimes, it just hurt.
And when Noelle Gilbert got hurt, she broke everything; hearts, promises, bonds.
That was why nobody sympathized with me when I complained that mum hurt me emotionally way to many times; because I hurt her just as many.
And it wasn't just me hurting her. Everything else was pushing her towards insanity; her boss, her projects, her house, her family, Flora, and even dad.
And sometimes, only sometimes, she sort of....exploded. Like, literally exploded. She screamed, and shouted, and threw things at me, and hit me like crazy.
So, yes. I was abused at home.
Abused in every way a person could be abused; mentally, physically, and psychologically.
She killed every dream, every talent, every wish, every ambition, every motivation, every interest.
Yet,-at least in 2011-I loved mum more than anything.
The idea of a life without her was as terrible as the idea of a life with her.
This dilemma slowly sucked life out of me.
She suffered, and only God knows how much. But I didn't know how to stop it. I think that....Noelle Gilbert was a very major reason why she suffered. And the pain of the thought was so strong that only the pain of her opression to me could cover it up, to make it feel like almost "nothing."
The tragic truth was that only when dealing with her mother, Noelle Gilbert turned from a highly emotional girl to a cold feelingless bitch.
And what made it more tragic was the fact that mum WAS a selfless woman. I could swear a thousand times that she was. But there's this huge difference between doing what's best for others, and doing what YOU THINK is best for others.
And within this huge difference, every beautiful thing vanished.