Copyright 2015 Chris Smith All rights reserved.
Mom was still inside going through the last of the house. She had started in on one of her Episodes. I already knew it was fruitless to deal with her when she was spun up. I surmised she had past traumas of some kind and this event, the Foreclosure and Eviction and moving, were triggering all kinds of emotions in her.
The best thing to do when she got like this was:
A) Try really hard not take it personally because she'll lash out at you with her vengeful spirit.
B) Try not to allow her, or anyone, to vent their toxic energy on your person.
C) Remove yourself from the situation so you don't become more carnage in their wake.
Some days it was easier said than done. Nothing like the emotional and psychological cuts from a person who allegedly says they "love you". Yes, indeedy.
I was waiting for them outside the A-Frame so we could all leave the house together. Then I could walk alongside the trailer, as was my normal duty when I was around, to ensure nothing fell off. But with my Mom having an Episode I realized they were going to be inside the house longer then I was willing to wait around. I had spent about three hours helping them already. I was done for the day.
"Hey, Dad, if you guys are going to be a while, I'm going to go home and have lunch. I'm really hungry," I yelled into the house.
"Okay. If you don't mind just take the car over," said Dad from the back hallway.
I got into the stuffed car. I was so tired. Well, I was tired and dirty and hungry. I carefully drove over to the Glass House on Parcel B. Then walked home to the Cabin. First thing I did was to strip out of all the dirty and dusty clothes. Then I sat down to have a small simple lunch. My appetite still hadn't come back totally from all the stress. But I tried to keep eating something, even if I had to force-feed myself. I knew my body needed the energy.
When I finished my meager lunch I went into the laundry room. But I was out of laundry detergent. So I walked back down to the Glass House and filled up my detergent jug. By the time I was walking out the front door with my jug filled my Parents were finally coming over with the final tractor load from the A-Frame.
"Did you get everything?" I asked Mom as she walked past me through the front door.
"I don't know. Ask Your Father," she said in a miffed voice.
Then she stomped off down the hallway.
"Uh, in a huff much lady," I thought.
The tension was hanging thick in the air. I walked out onto the porch and over to my Dad who was getting down from the tractor.
"How'd it go?"
"Well. Your Mother started to go off. She started blaming you and I, again. I guess you had gone through the closets but she hadn't. So that upset her," he said in a tone.
Dad was hinting at the sanity he was attempting to hold onto. The man was clearly at his wits end with my Mom, his wife, and the stress.
"I went through the closets and pulled out the valuable stuff," I replied.
Was I now on trial?
Is that what was going on?
Here I was pleading my case to some unknown jury.
Let's reflect. I decided my Dad's maps were more important then the five-year-old dog biscuits. We had no dogs. Our dogs were dead.
So I'd left the old dog biscuits in the closet. I'd also left a bunch of old ribbons and wrapping paper, some two-year-old candy, and bunch of other things I'd classify as junk any day of the week. Boy, was I a rotten human being and clearly barbaric in my thinking.
I thought, "What an ungrateful woman! Here I am helping her with all HER stuff. All her stuff that she doesn't even remember she has. All her stuff that she's been cramming into every nook and cranny of that house for years. Years of stuff and more stuff continually crammed into places. It's not my stuff, and I'm bending over backwards to help her with all this shit! And what do I get? Not a 'Thank You' or 'You're an Awesome Daughter' or not even a 'Hey I really appreciate all you're doing for us'. No. I get blamed. Why am I even helping them at all?!"
Mom was still in a full swing Episode inside the Glass House. I could feel the energy all the way outside the Glass House.
So I left. I didn't want anything more to do with her or her fucked up state of mind. I'd had it with the both of them.
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A TASTE OF DESTRUCTION Book 1 (EDITING) is the juice worth the squeeze seriesNon-Fiction
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