I really don’t wanna bit$# anymore, I just don’t… but this is where I vent, so here it goes…
Ok, I love her, underneath that much anger and lack of self control that shows when I join her in her yelling contest, I do!! She just can’t stop getting on my nerves and pushing all the wrong buttons.
You would think that knowing and accepting who she is and what she’s like would make things easier to handle, but nooooo, she’s creative that way!!
Why would she keep telling me things like “manty elly gebteholna”, has she no idea how hurtful this could be? Doesn’t she get that when I say something mean in return, it’s basically because I was hurt? Moreover, doesn’t she get that I have even worse answers that I do my best to keep just for myself?
Why would she keep whining about how tired she is? Is it to tell me that it’s because of me? Because when I try to offer help or take the kids for the day out to give her sleeping time, or just private time, she acts like I betrayed her!! I even offered to take her out shopping or whatever, I got the you’re-acting-out-of-guilt lecture!
How about I am acting out of gratitude? How about responsibility? How about even sympathy? Yeah there is a little guilt in there ma, but it’s because it’s all you can enforce!! I offered to bring over a nanny to make things easier and give her the supervisor role, but she said the maid already kept her on her toes and that she DID NOT need more intruders!
When I am home, I try my best to take the load off, I know my best isn’t much, but guess what, I am tired too! I have headaches that won’t go away, which I stopped even complaining about, I get chest pains from time to time and I won’t start talking about the backaches or the knee pain because I feel pathetic already about all that.
And stop complaining woman! All have their problems, my sisters have problems, my dad has problems, and the maid has her own set of problems!! Try; just try to be thankful for whatever little health you wouldn’t acknowledge having… I have friends whom their moms have some serious shit and don’t complain half as much, and I try my best not to compare you against them because it’s not ok! So stop comparing me to your imaginary ideal friends’ daughters and count the things I am actually good at. And when I tell you “e7medy rabena, some people have it much worse” don’t give me the “ya3ne enty 3ayzaha teb2a worse for me” I mean, when you insist on being miserable, miserable is all you shall ever be, trust me; been there!!
Despite that I keep telling her all that, she just never listens or understands that I do say it with love.
On the soon to be x…
Seriously, what’s wrong with you!! Do you need a slap on the face, a punch maybe? Would this bring you back to your forever lost senses??? What it is that you need??? I may not be able to give it; for you could burn in hell for all I care, but just go dump your shit elsewhere and let me fix the damage you caused and do all it takes to stop having angry thoughts when I think of you.
What’s with the “you look amazing, and cute” wtf, we’re meeting COURT to revoke the TA3A thing, remember??? When I gave it time to think what to wear, it was not to impress you, you moron. If the smiles and the warm welcomes is to impress the government officials, then let me tell you, you lost your audience when you started offending my lawyer, my dad and saying you were gonna flea the country and remarry!! You lost the audience when you started claiming you were paying off your late father’s debt yet talk about your new German-made car. I kinda thought you were a bit smarter than that!! But as it turned out, I know nothing when it comes to you.
So how did it feel when you could break my shell for those five minutes I looked down and took the time to wipe my eyes and my cheeks? Did you feel some kind of sick victory for seeing that you still have it in you to make me cry? Or did you feel guilty because somewhere under the piles of scum, there lays a conscious that is aware of what you did and hopefully haunts you from time to time about it??
Why did you ask how the kids were doing? Was it to hear my voice soften when I speak of them because you could no longer hear it that way when I am talking to you? Was it because you knew that this is my one weak point, the one way you could still get to me? Or was it because you were genuinely concerned about them? I don’t think it’s the last one; a concerned father would have done things much differently.
Believe it or not, even when I ask those questions, I no longer care the way I used to about what the answers are. I stopped trying to understand and analyze, I even stopped trying to split you in two. I even stopped seeing any trace of you when I look at my kids. When I look at them, they look like young me, my sisters or my dad, sometimes mocha moves his eyebrows like uncle K, but neither of them reminds me of you anymore, and I am grateful.
I thought of calling you yesterday when beano started coughing and throwing up and I had to rush him to the ER. I felt that desperate and helpless! My own son, throwing up all over me and crying and saying my name and all I could think of was “should I call him?”. But I did not. Care to know why? You’re the hysteric one, remember? I am the one who would call the doctor, explain to her how his cough and vomit are like, understand her advice, and have it applied at the hospital accordingly. I am the one who would hold the boy and not mind the vomit. I am the one who would postpone all the drama until I know he’s stabilized, and then start fighting over what could have been done better.
You have no idea what it’s like really, although you always said it was your responsibility to do everything, it never really was, I just gave you too much credit for everything because it wasn’t credit I wanted for myself.
You have no idea what it’s like to worry that much about a son and try every denial tactic you hcan think of to convince yourself that bad things happen to other people only, and that your kid will be ok, will be ok, and that he won’t suffer from any sever damage for the rest of his life.
Yesterday, I could handle the ER trip, with my sister’s help. If I ever need more help, I have better people in my life who would offer it and give it, and I will never be too proud to ask for help when I need it concerning those two, the way I usually am when it comes to me. I will just never ask it of you because, help will never be what you have to offer or give.
So, next time you see me, don’t pretend like you wish things were better for you have done nothing to make them better. Don’t tell me I looked nice or ask me when I got those shoes or what was wrong with my left eye. Don’t ask about the kids and if beano remembered you still or if mocha started to look any different. Don’t do that cheap attempt of making me feel vulnerable because I have to talk about them like they were orphans. Better yet, leave the country, go get married and start a new life, and forget all about those two kids, and forget about me. We don’t need you. We don’t.