It started maybe a year ago? I was twelve at the time, now I'm almost thirteen. I don't know if its just me but typing the actual numbers instead of the letter form triggers me.
It was a lovely day as far as I remember. Maybe around the summer, I don't know. Sometimes I wish I could remember every detail, but I can't. Maybe I shouldn't want that. Maybe I should just wish nothing happened. You know, somedays. Well, most days, actually. I question the existence of life. I can't tell you how many times I question the existence of god. Maybe a million times every day? Well, that would be over exaggerating. My mom always tells me I need to work on that. That I need to put it out flat and simple instead of making things a big deal. I try, though.
Anyways, we were on summer break at the time. I was home, doing my usual chores with my sisters. Laundry, dishes, sweeping, mopping, dusting, you know, all the basic needs for a house. I used to love to do the dishes. I'd always get mad if someone entered the kitchen while I was doing them because it was my zone area. I was in the zone and it was always my kitchen when I was doing the dishes.
Now I strongly dislike doing the dishes. It's really disgusting actually. I never really like saying hate, by the way. Saying strongly dislike is a more polite and nicely put term to use. My grandma taught me that.
Well, my dad came home from work with very big news. The job he had at the time was very far away from home, plus he worked terrible hours. I remember once I passed out because I stayed up till 5 AM just waiting for him to return.
Well, my dad had got an offer that day. The offer was a better job. Paid well, was close to home, and his shifts were amazing. He was really excited to tell my sisters, my mom, and myself.
But my mom was unhappy. She had been unhappy for a while.
Sometimes I think I need to be able to read minds. To be able to know exactly if someone is judging me. To know if someone is unhappy and what is wrong at that very moment. I usually put the thought in my own mind that I could do that. But with my mom, it was impossible. She had a boundary set, where even her most close ones couldn't break through to help her.
My mom was upset because my dad apparently wasn't doing what he had promised. He wasn't putting in his share of the effort. I remember my sisters and I just sitting in the living room while my parents were yelling and arguing with each other right down the hall, in a room where the door wasn't closed.
I'm tired of being shut out though, so I guess I'm glad the door wasn't closed for once. My whole life I had been clueless about what was going on around me, and finally I could hear. I wasn't deaf for once. I wasn't just easily shut out.
Maybe I would've been able to hear them anyways. Our walls in the house are very thin.
My mom and dad quickly walked down the hall, arguing about where my sisters and I would go. My mom wanted me to go next door to our neighbors, but my dad insisted that my sisters and I go with him.
For the first time in a while, I was shaken and scared. I was surprised I didn't break down and cry, right in the middle of an already screwed up situation.
My sisters and I ended up going next door, and now my dad lives with his parents.
I used to always question if all of this was my fault. I still do. As much as my mom tells me it isn't. As much as my dad tells me it isn't. As much as my therapy tells me it isn't. The world, our reality, is slowly taking over my brain, telling me how bad of a person I have become ever since that day. If all this makes sense to you, I'd call you a genius. None of this makes sense to me, I dont know if it ever will. Will anybody even read this? Probably not.
I feel like it's good to write your emotions and just put it out there sometimes though. That's what therapy told me.
I never really liked going to therapy. But everybody told me I needed it. They told me I was too depressed and anxious all the time. They told me I would become afraid of the world and others if I refused to get help. So I did. I did get help. And now I dont get any because I feel like it tore me apart even more.
