The Rumination Rooms: Home Invasions

Woke up this morning to dripping at 5 a.m. I made sure my buckets were in place and my blankets were not in the cross-fire, and went back to sleep. I then proceeded to sleep in.

Regardless, I got my daughter ready for her day at school just in time for my mother to come over uninvited and unannounced (again) with a bunch of dresses. I'd planned to have the kid wear a nice ruffled shirt that I got her for her birthday, and some shiny black leggings, along with fancy gold shoes, but... Overruled by a simple sentence. "All the other girls will be in dresses."

Thanks Mom. Let's make sure my daughter adheres strictly to societal norms, doesn't have any original thoughts, and is given those insecurities about herself and her choices nice and early.

Freaking wonderful.

I didn't make an issue out of it. There are bigger and better things to worry about. Like how the hell I am going to manage to get far far away from my mother so I might have some hope in hell of raising my kid the way I want.

I think the difficult part is that I know my mother means well. She's just a little messed up in the head. Bringing my daughter a butt-ugly dress to wear to her Kindergarten grad is a relatively minor incident in the grand scheme, of course, but the continual undermining is very wearing on me.

Not to mention not being able to feel like my home is the sacred space I want.

Of course, just as I was about to have a bath, Mom comes over with a bunch of plastic plates and food, saying that she'll be feeding my brother and uncle in my home. Again, no consultation.

I would have said fine. But, I guess I just want to be asked. Have the choice to say no. Be respected.

It's a complicated situation. My brother isn't allowed to be in my mother's home by virtue of a restraining order taken out against him by a cop that lives down the street. He did utter some threats as he was being taken in, after all, he is mentally ill and didn't want to go to jail or the psych ward. I forget which time it was. Troubled kid.

Regardless, my mother seems to think that I should be glad to have a mentally ill barely-adult boy coming to my home at all hours because he has "nowhere else to go." If the kid stayed home with his uncle or got a real job, god forbid, this wouldn't be an issue. But her permissive parenting "style" (if you could even call it a cohesive style) has resulted in very negative consequences for us.

I wound up being delayed with the whole "independence" thing, my brother is turning into a spoiled entitled bastard. All things considered, I feel I got the better deal. Maybe he'll get so far as I have one day, if he ever decides that's what he wants, but I don't know.

I have really got to get on getting my driver's license. And enough money for a deposit and first month's rent and a job in the city. Well. I've got to get a job to really hope for that much, but there isn't much available in this small town that I'm qualified and able to do. Arthritis is a real bitch.

I do know that I don't have the means to offer much in the way of guidance and I have my own child to protect.

I lock my doors these days. And I keep my cell phone charged.

Most mentally ill people are non-violent, myself included, and most will never do anything if they're medicated. However, when it does go bad, it goes real bad.

I'm tired and angry and worried. Don't know that I'll even be able to enjoy the kid's grad today, but I will try, and if I don't, I will fake as many smiles for her sake as I need to.

But I just wish I could go back to bed, lock my doors, and not have to exist in this balancing act trying to keep everybody happy. And, I mean, I'd try to throw a tantrum and start a feud and keep them away that way, but it doesn't work. At best, it buys me a few days of peace until the inevitable knocking.

Blast. I'm so upset I've got the hiccups.