[Cross-posted from my LiveJournal]
Fayetteville...
It always depresses and inspires me when I drive down there to visit my mother. She's the only person that still ties me to that place... I'm sure I still know people that live there, or have ties to there: Patti, Matt, Brad, Miriam, Elizabeth, Tracy, Crystal... all the people I went to high school with that I never really knew, but thought were nice enough to friend on Facebook.
I feel so torn inside - I want to hate the place completely, and I very nearly do. But, on the other hand, it holds some pleasant memories. I spent the first eighteen years of my life in that place... best friends, bike riding, puppies, kittens, boyfriends, firsts, lasts... there are even places, there, that still make me feel safe or happy when I think about them.
However, every pleasant memory is veiled in a layer of thick Virginia Slims second-hand smoke... roaches scurry through the mental pictures and laughter is filtered through the hot tears of frustration, depression, and desperation I dealt with on a daily basis. I truly dislike my mother, not necessarily because she was a horrible parent, but because she doesn't see her mistakes as such. She did some things right, but for every warm thought I have of her, there is at least one that makes me angry to the point of tears.
Sitting in her living room, today... watching the family dog limp painfully through the house with a tumor-like growth coming off of her lip and the scrawny cat dart through the living room to hide down the hall... choking on the cigarette smoke that used to fill my lungs on a near-constant basis...
I'm truly amazed I survived my childhood.
Every time I go there, I get a headache or feel nauseous or get depressed. At the same time, I'm astounded at my coping mechanisms. How did I make it through that without being a complete mess? All I could think while sitting at my mom's computer, trying to teach her how to use her new (my old) mp3 player was, "why can't she just put that damned cigarette out... I can't breathe... I don't want to go home smelling like cigarettes... how the fuck did I handle 18 years of this???"
We were only in Fayetteville for 3 hours, and I probably spent a total of 30 minutes in her house... I don't ever want to go back. It feels so good to be home.
Fayetteville...
It always depresses and inspires me when I drive down there to visit my mother. She's the only person that still ties me to that place... I'm sure I still know people that live there, or have ties to there: Patti, Matt, Brad, Miriam, Elizabeth, Tracy, Crystal... all the people I went to high school with that I never really knew, but thought were nice enough to friend on Facebook.
I feel so torn inside - I want to hate the place completely, and I very nearly do. But, on the other hand, it holds some pleasant memories. I spent the first eighteen years of my life in that place... best friends, bike riding, puppies, kittens, boyfriends, firsts, lasts... there are even places, there, that still make me feel safe or happy when I think about them.
However, every pleasant memory is veiled in a layer of thick Virginia Slims second-hand smoke... roaches scurry through the mental pictures and laughter is filtered through the hot tears of frustration, depression, and desperation I dealt with on a daily basis. I truly dislike my mother, not necessarily because she was a horrible parent, but because she doesn't see her mistakes as such. She did some things right, but for every warm thought I have of her, there is at least one that makes me angry to the point of tears.
Sitting in her living room, today... watching the family dog limp painfully through the house with a tumor-like growth coming off of her lip and the scrawny cat dart through the living room to hide down the hall... choking on the cigarette smoke that used to fill my lungs on a near-constant basis...
I'm truly amazed I survived my childhood.
Every time I go there, I get a headache or feel nauseous or get depressed. At the same time, I'm astounded at my coping mechanisms. How did I make it through that without being a complete mess? All I could think while sitting at my mom's computer, trying to teach her how to use her new (my old) mp3 player was, "why can't she just put that damned cigarette out... I can't breathe... I don't want to go home smelling like cigarettes... how the fuck did I handle 18 years of this???"
We were only in Fayetteville for 3 hours, and I probably spent a total of 30 minutes in her house... I don't ever want to go back. It feels so good to be home.
VIEW 6 of 6 COMMENTS
sadista:
It was such a lovely surprise having you and LittleFierceOne at the party last night. 
Hope you made it back safe. You two are great! 
Hope you made it back safe. You two are great! 
boleyn:
So glad you guys made it out last night!