#illbeoverit

My mother and me have never had a “good” or typical relationship. My entire life I had been told by my grandmother that my mother was jealous of me, and because of the jealousy, my life would be difficult. When I was told this at age seven, like other seven year olds, I thought nothing of it.

My mother was not a horrible person all my life, but a good 75% of my life was made horribly difficult because of my mother’s choices on how to raise me. Because of how unbearable it was living with my mother, I moved out August 2012 and began living with my girlfriend. Living together was going well until May of 2013, our relationship started to unravel and we couldn’t fix it this time which led me to start rethinking my already complicated living situation. My mother’s birthday is in May and she seemed to be back to her happy self, so happy in fact that her and my father both invited me to move back in with them. I was promised that the same issues we had had prior would no longer be brought up and the bad decisions would no longer be mentioned. I was perplexed by what was being said to me, but the fact that my older sister was back at home too made me feel more comfortable about the situation, so I moved back in.

 At first moving back in wasn’t that bad. Of course my parents and I had our differences like many parents and their children do, but my parents always have been the extreme case. Normal families differ over ice cream flavors or curfew times, while my parents and I would argue over if the word faggot were appropriate over dinner conversation, or if I’m acting standoffish because of my period.  During July and August I had been in the hospital for an exploding cyst, been in a car accident that totaled my car, dealt with all the gay and sexist jokes I could handle, and had began fight number three thousand fifty six with my mother. I felt like everything was spinning out of control and I no longer knew where to look. I have always been a devout Christian my entire life and this summer was something that I could not comprehend biblically, or realistically. Having all of this on my mind and with things at home being back in shambles, the family had to make an appearance at my cousins Quincenera.

The Quince wasn’t that bad besides having all my family members confirm that I was back at home with my parents, it was like they were reminding me that I had failed trying to live on my own.  The way my parents, especially the way my mother was acting at the party. Suddenly she had died and became Claire Huxtable all in a matter of minutes. She suddenly wanted to take pictures with me and hug me; it was like I had never met this woman before. In front of everyone, she was the mom I used to know, before I was sixteen, but the reality of it all was that this never happened, and everyone could tell by my reaction. My mother has never been affectionate toward me, ever. When I was younger I would ask her why she didn’t hug me like the moms on television, her response was always that she didn’t want me to end up like my sister, homosexual. The irony of that is I too, like my sister, despite the lack of affection, turned out homosexual.

After the Quince, I felt defeated, and misunderstood. The first time I left home to live with my girlfriend, my mother couldn’t handle it, so she lied to my family and told them I ran away. During that period of time I withdrew from all parts of my family collectively so I was never able to explain my side of the story and why I was leaving home. To find out that my family thought that all this time I had ran away was very unsettling to me and I did not know the proper way to react. I kept everything in after that; I had stopped speaking totally at home and lived in my room. One very unfortunate evening my mother decided she wanted to get to the bottom of my sulking and started asking me questions about why I was upset. During that monumental conversation, my mother went from a one to a ten, and the next thing I knew I was being called a stupid bitch, and had every thing id ever confided in her about, threw back into my face. It was like Maywether himself was punching me directly in the face. This was my mother, taunting me over my twenty pound weight loss after my girlfriend had broke up with me, laughing directly in my face as my father took her side even though I pleaded with him to finally stand up for his daughter. I felt completely helpless, and unfortunately this saga is ongoing, I am still simply trying to figure everything out.