Thoughts For That Someday

Everybody has always said "I won't ever be like my parents." Everyone on God's green Earth has said that at some point in their lives. My mother picks fights over text, I can't stand that. It just reminds me of how my ex and I were. Fights always through text. It irritates me to no end. What happened to the old days of a phone call? What the hell ever happened to: "We'll talk when I/you get home." That shit actually helps out tremendously!! It gives you both time to leave each other be, blow off some steam, then talk it out CALMLY. But blowing up each other's phones is just stupid. Flat out fucking stupid shit.

I'm dog tired of what's been going on these past couple of days. My grandfather is passing away slowly and Im basically on stand by. He's on his last few days. My dad is exhausted, he and my uncle are tending to their father's needs. They do all the heavy lifting and dirty work (literally) because their other brothers and only sister can't handle it physically and emotionally. I admit, it is tough to see Papa, once so strong and strong willed, so fragile and clinging to the little shards of life he has left. I was never close to him but even I try not to cry when I look at what remains of my grandfather. This is the first grandparent I lose, both sets of grandparents are alive. And wtih the exhaustion and saddness, my father is being pissy. The man is bipolar (hes been diagnosed, this is no exaggeration) and he already has these weird ideas, now he's just getting bitchier. Like a chick. But its understandable, this is hard shit. My mom on the other hand just wont quit. One arguement after another and another all through text. It's too much. Blowing up my phone with PARAGRAPHS WHILE SHES AT WORK. Jeez, must be nice to just be on your phone ARGUEING. And if i dont respond right away, I'm in trouble, even if I'm on duty or in class. No excuse with her. I call her my wife because I ALWAYS have to check in with her. Fuck im surprised she hasnt' knocked my ass out and stuck a tracking divice in my bone marrow.

I'm just tired. School just started back up again and all my math homework is online. Right now work has me working the night shifts so im off late and once i get back home im up staring at a screen for awhile. I'm trying to get a lot of work done in advance because i need to be there at Nana's for Papa, we don't know when he's going to go home. Im pooped. Trying to make my dad happy and my mom happy, have them get the fuck off my back. I'm so tired of hearing them nit pick at me in different ways. Usually it's whatever but right now since im sleep deprived, im ready to snap at anyone, even close friends who've never argued with me before. I just want to hold something tightly for a while and let the tears go. I had a good cry in the restroom at the liberary a few minutes ago. Had to let it out. As I cried, I thought, "I don't want my children to cry like this. I don't want them to be bitter like me." Because I am bitter.

I look at people that are at peace and happy and I'm happy for them but im also a little jealous. They're so free, and Im here tired, angry. People have hurt me very much. Lovers, friends, family. They've all smacked me with the fire end of a torch. The only one who's been there during my saddest hours has been God. Everyone else wasn't there. And that's not how I want my children to feel. I don't want them to be hiding somewhere and crying because of me. I can't sheild them from a broken heart caused by a lover or a friend. But I would rather drink poisen than to break their heart. When I was carrying Angel/Arsen, I would lay back and run a hand over my pelvis and say "No matter what happens, in this life, I will do whatever I can to make sure you don't hurt like I hurt." I lay there picturing their teeny tiny little spines form and there teeny little heart pump blood through their developing baby body, delicate and fragile. Little bones calcifying and hardening, little eyes developing. I couldn't see them yet but in my heart, they were the beginnings of perfection. Then I remembered how when my parents were at their very worst how their rage between each other came onto me. The fear I had mainly over my mother. The nights of crying. I remember one night she went too far and beat me up. I never had been scratched up by my parents before, that was a first. She punched me a couple times. that too was a first. I remember she combed through my room and threw papers of unfinished or untouched old hw at me, she made a mess as my father stood there like an idiot. NO balls at all. Not even a heart for me. Coward, I thought. I remember after she left my room, I squated in a corner, terrified. And shocked. I did deserve a spanking but what had happened went too far. My father, i had seen in his face, looked scared for me or maybe for him. But he did nothing. nobody told her hey that's enough now. I knew right then, squating in that corner at 14, that I could never trust them to not hurt me again. The safe feeling i had with them was gone and hasnt come back since and it has been almost 11yrs now.

Remembering that night, I couldn't imagine and bear the thought of my own hands bearing down into my little one like that. How could I scratch into my child's skin with my nails out of rage? The flesh that I had created, the body that grew and thrived in me? The once-was-a-baby person being struck by me over and over and degraded by my own mouth and hands? Would I not look at my son or daughter in that moment of them crying and trembling in fear and see my own 14 year old self with wild eyes of fear and remember? That cut out my heart. I knew my baby would grow up into a man or a woman and want to fly the nest. But I wanted my baby to always be able to fly back to me whenever they needed me or just needed to feel safe again. I can't do that with either one of my parents. Whenever I try wtih my mother, i just get that feeling of "don't get too close." it's weird to me. I tried with my father, his bipolarism makes him weird some days and some days he's fine. I never know. That's why I when im feeling unsafe, I seek solice in my Pasha. I trust him.

There are few ppl I feel comfortable with in this world and Mik is one of the very few. I trust him entirely. I know he will never look at me with eyes of anything but friendship. I know I can fall asleep beside him and he wont try to touch me. I can hand him my wallet and he wont take. That is also why I trust Mr. Lob City. I gave myself to him right away because i felt so safe and so quickly, it was odd to me. Yet it spoke volumes at the same time. I felt and still feel safe with him.
bUT that saftey i should feel with my parents, at least my mom. That is one thing I dont want for my daughters especially....to seek saftey in the arms of men. No, its never safe. Very rare is it. but VERY VERY rare....