2006-04-03, 12:04 a.m.
Some days, I wish I never got out of bed. I feel so fucking depressed. Fucking worthless prozac. This evening, I came home at about 6:00 barely eaten anything. I was famished. I immediately hit the kitchen and made a salad I intended to keep down. But then I was in full binge mode. By 10:00, I puked and was exhausted and shaking. I asked my dad to drive me to get frozen yogurt. The shop closes at 10 but I thought we could make it because they usually close a little after 10. When we got there, it was empty. On the way home, my dad complained that I'm "killing him." He said he has to work tomorrow and I "made him" bring me to get yogurt. I said, upset, I didn't make you do anything. Then he said I was the cause of him getting yogurt. I said you're the only person responsible for your actions. I don't cause or make you do anything. You're the only thinker in your head. He mumbled, bullshit. I said, if you want to take that approach, it's your fault because you HAD me. If you didn't want to do things like this, you should of worn a fucking condom. He then proceeded to tell me (induced by wine, i think) that I was a tax write off. I said "thanks." Then he dug himself deeper by saying I was an accident. That they didn't really do anything to prevent the pregnancy...but he was "done" having kids. I said "and that's suppose to make me feel better?" I could tell he felt bad because on the way home, he kept trying to talk to me and act interested in me. He never asks about me. If I share a story with him, he barely responds or responds with a story about HIM. Before he went to bed he kissed me on the cheek and said "goodnight, favorite daughter of mine." argh. It angered me for some reason. After that mess, I had 3 goals for the night: -e-mail my dad some info about aspergers and schizophrenia drugs -update my food journal -update THIS journal I found some links on aspergers and copied them into an email I was composing. I tried to find some articles about schizophrenia and I just got really overwhelmed. I think I'm able to take this on, read about it, and be fine with it. I'm not. Reading stories of other families with schizophrenia, the help they received, actions the spouses took, made my head spin. I put my face into my knees and tried to calm my pounding heart. I keep thinking I'm over this. But I'm not. My mom came into the same room I was, sat on the recliner, and began to read. She usually reads in the other room, but my brother fell asleep in there. I immediately was getting irritated. I could see her in the corner of my eye doing her odd behaviors: when she drinks wine, she holds it in her mouth instead of swallowing it. She kept putting her book down to look at her nails or pick at her neck. I finally snapped at her to get out of the room. 5 minutes later, she did. I can't fucking take this crazy behavior my dad ignores. I can't take him telling me how he'll start living once my mom is dead. I can't hear him make one more joke about her dying. I can't smile and look okay with him telling me what he wishes he could do with his life if he wasn't "tied down" with her. All I know if that if my dad wasn't such a fucking pussy my mom could be so different. If he forced her to get help, if he cooperated with me to get her some help, then life could be so different. There is so much anger towards my mom. So much anger and sadness that I feel so stupid for feeling. Why can't I just get over it? Because part of me wishes something would be done. Because something COULD be done. But no one is doing anything. I feel a burden of responsibility of wondering if I should be trying to get her more help. Talking to a doctor? Slipping her medication? I know this is my dad's job but he won't fucking do it and as long as she is like this and as long as I'm in so much fucking pain I'm never going to get out of this god-forsaken-hell-hole. god. Now i'm crying. I haven't cried in weeks. And I'm afraid I'll never stop crying. my mother is crazy. my mother is crazy. my mother is crazy. i don't have a mother. no matter how many times I say it outloud or in my head it never makes me feel any better about it. I just wish SOMETHING would happen. That she would snap or lose it so she'd have to get help. I'm so tired of fucking ignoring the elephant in the room. I'm so tired of being silent.