Fuckkkkk Thissssss
… Is the most-used phrase of my week. Life can be going so well and then suddenly all the things that were going well turn against you into one monstrous fuck-up. So I talked about wanting a cat. A simple request. A simple request that my mom doesn’t want to listen to. Which bums me out a ton, but I don’t like arguing with her so I’ve stopped. I was telling my friend and her mom (or Real Mom, as I’ve come to semi-jokingly refer to her as) about my wishes for a cat and my continuous lack of said cat. So my friend, being the sweet and loving person she is, goes about secretly finding me a cat. He mom is all on board, and is really pumped to get me a cat. They text my mom today, asking her if they can please surprise me with it since they know I’ve been going through some stuff lately. And all hell is let loose to roam about the calm plains of my life. My mom calls my dad (who always keeps the phone on speakerphone), to tell him about how I lied to my friend and her mother about having problems. Her head is so far buried in her ass that she automatically assumes that I’ve lied to my friend and her mom to get a cat. Because there’s NO POSSIBLE WAY that I, the BEST mother of ALL TIME, could POSSIBLY raise a child who has some PROBLEMS! But hey, here we are. Anyways, I overhear her telling this all to my father over the phone, which is when I walk into the room and decide to join the conversation. So that was that. Until tonight when I go shopping for pants (in the child’s section, mind you. This is what I’m reduced to). Jed asks if the pet bed she’s buying is for the “new cat”. To which she asks me where he heard about it. I told him he overheard her telling dad all about it. She tells me that she never told dad about anything cat-related, and only told me once I was talking to her. Which is very untrue. She proceeds to tell me in front of the checkout attendants, that I’m an embarrassment, and that she can’t ever take me anywhere. Days Since Mom Has Made Me Cry In Public: 0. As if this isn’t bad enough, my sleep habits come up when I order a decaf coffee at McDonalds. She tells me that OxyContin (Which she, the all-knowing medical transcriptionist, pronounces as Oxy-Co-Done) makes people stay up. Then she says, trying SO hard to be casual about it, “Megan isn’t giving you any Oxy-Co-Done, is she?” Fuck. You. Fuck You, You Pathetic Piece Of Shit Who Made My Best Friend of 11 Years So Mad At You That She No Longer Feels Conformable In My Home With You. Fuck You For Having No Trust In Me And Yet Continuously Betraying Mine. And Most Of All Fuck You For Being So Judgmental That You Believe My Friend Who Attempted Suicide Is Giving Me Pills So I Can Do The Same. She’s the one who’s begging me to get help and checking in on me every single day, and you’re the one finds the thought of me having problems so completely appalling that you’d rather believe I’m lying about them. Guess what mom? In a week, it’ll mark the one year anniversary of my restricting. I haven’t eaten over 1000 calories per day in a fucking year now. How’s that for an observant parent, hmm? And after all this, I start the most jam-packed and outright stressful term of my life. So, fuck her, fuck this, and fuck me. I hope I fucking die from all the stress.
