What the Hell is Wrong With You?

Coming home to my mother's is an act of immense vexation and impractical amounts of self-loathing and disgust. Only a faultless fool would dream of parading back into her home after experiencing how expertly she dishes out bullshit. Dealing with Dianne, as my sister so eloquently places it, makes me want to gouge my eyes out with a melon baller.

I suppose existing here for a day and a half wouldn't ultimately be so awful if my sister could put a leash on her attitude. Chelsea is rude and uncaring. She's the stereotype of an uninterested and self-absorbed twenty-one-year-old and my mom manages that in the worst of ways.
While Chelsea wants to be independant and her own blooming and knowledge-filled individual, my mother wants to keep her a stagnant and remarkably dull child. This whole scenario plays out over and over. Through phone calls, emails or visits, it's a habitual circle of she-said-she-said and petty actions that usually turn around and slap the actor across the mouth.

Chelsea thinks that it is the best of ideas for her to get laser eye surgery while she has the money from our wonderful, Ontario Student Loans System. My mother, being a representative of a Financial Aid office for one of Ontario's Colleges, quivers with abhorrence when this sort of nonsense dribbles out of my sister's stupid mouth. So obviously, Mamma O is completely shocked and disgusted by the decisions of my sister, the sister who wants to be a respected adult in the home, but owns a thought process that parallels a two-year-old monkey with Down Syndrome.
So while Chelsea dreams of being able to see without those fashionably out of date things we call glasses, Mummy stirs over what she should do about the situation because Chelsea needs Mummy to co-sign a loan agreement because her OSAP doesn't actually cover the whole procedure. My logical conclusion to such nonsense would be a giant NO stamped on any dream of my sister's, but Mum says she'll think about it. She thinks about it, and then agrees to co-sign and then, a week before the procedure, tells Chelsea she's SOL 'cause Chelsea has been acting rude for the past week and she needs to be punished.

IDIOTS. JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, YOU ARE IDIOTS.

This of course, has set the wheels in motion for an eruption of shallow thinking, unfounded commentary and a crap load of stupid, stupid events. I heard Chelsea's side of it on the phone yesterday when she pleaded for a loan of five hundred dollars. I told her my banking system wouldn't allow that sort of withdrawal by the time she needed it. That was a lie. So now, my step-mother has taken the burden upon herself. She is also, a very stupid woman.

Today, over quilting my mom decided to expel her frustrations regarding the events of the past week. It was virtually the same story, but with a lot more lines of self-humility and circumstances where she was a lowe and broken victim of my sister's actions, aka, a load of complete shite.

"So I told her that I wouldn't co-sign, but if she got her father to give her the $250.00 needed, that I would find it somewhere too." She said, as she casually placed the stonewear mugs that she had just purchased from Home Sense in the cupboard. It had been her second trip to the store in the past two days. But oh the deals she found there!
"I think that's rude."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I think it's rude that Chelsea would even consider asking anyone for money, especially you mother, since you seem so destitute." I casually eyed the glasses at this point. "But I think it's considerably much worse for you to put my father in that sort of position."
"Well I..."
"No, you wanted Chelsea to go to Dad for the loan, and if he said he couldn't give her the money, than you would say that you just couldn't find the money either, making Dad the bad guy. How cunning of you Mum."
"That wasn't my intention at all, you warp things."
"Maybe if you treated Chelsea like an adult, and let her fix her own mistakes instead of righting them for her all the time, the two of you wouldn't have such an issue. Maybe she needs to fuck up before she realises what it entails to be a properly functioning and responsible individual."
"Don't use that language in this house."
"You're avoiding the point."
"I'm not avoiding anything, you don't understand the conversation that her and I had. You don't know anything about it."

Of course I don't. Exscuse me while I expel my frustration by exiting your life, yet again.

***

On Wednesday last week, Andrew and I had a long talk about our state of affairs. He came down yesterday. It got better.

I realised earlier today that while distance makes relationships very difficult, absence makes the options very fucking clear. Sometimes presences muttle everything up. I don't know why that happens, or why I'm stupid enough to engage in thought processes that muttle everything up even worse, but I suppose it has everything to do with quick fixes for bad feelings in the pit of my belly.
I've never done anything bad enough that I eventually couldn't forget about. Being conflicted emotionally so often with people that I love in the past has made it tremendously easy to shut off the valves of common sense, dignity and selfrespect. I'm afraid that sometimes I'm dangerously close to becoming morally bankrupt because usually the outcome of my mistakes only leaves a faint impression on me for a couple of months. Then I make the same mistake all over again.
I realise now that my relationship with Andrew isn't sucking because of the distance or because he can't show me the feelings that I think I want him to show me. It's my fault. It's my fault 'cause I can't keep my eyes and mind where they're supposed to be.

I feel awful. I don't think this feeling is going to fade either. What the hell is wrong with me?

***

Josh hasn't been around for three whole days. While that's not out of the ordinary, it's quite strange considering the terms we parted on.
If he's decided to fuck off because he can't handle me acting like a deranged pyscho, I'd prefer if he told me instead of using his annoying hideandseek method. He owes me more than that. But I'm probably just overreacting. I'm sure the reason why he hasn't sent me an email, or been around, or even asked how I've been doing is because of some asinine complication regarding his wife.

Yes, I'm sure that's it.