i get home from the hospital and call my mother back because i had to hurry off the phone earlier. she's telling me about the awful things my brother is up to, who he's dating and what drugs he's taking. so she says something about me being bi-polar. she seems to think that any mental problems i have are all connected to the term "bi-polar."for some reason it irritates me. so i correct her saying that that isn't what i have. she asks me what i do have. i'm hesitant to tell her because i don't want to bring it up. so she continues to pursue and i finally tell her. she doesn't question the other diagnosis, but she questions ptsd. i say it doesn't matter what it came from. she digs even deeper. i finally give her the information just to make it seem like it isn't the big deal that we're making it out to be. she then tells me that he's dead. he died from AIDS last november. i ask her how she knows. she said that his sister called her. she was married to him, and the sister thought my mother should know. so he's dead. i haven't even begun to deal with what he did to me, and he doesn't have to worry about it any more. did he ever worry about it? did he even know what he did was wrong? fuck fuck fuck. no one ever mentioned it. and now when i'm trying to go about mentioning it he's dead. i'm not ready for him to be dead! and dying from AIDS how am i supposed to hold him accountable when i feel so sorry for him. i wish that he had had a painless easy death. my mother was happy that he had had an awful death, but not me. it makes matters worse. |
your dad? step-dad? sorry you have so much garbage to deal with. try not to take care of other people to much (in order to avoid taking care of yourself, maybe) |
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