what nobody tells you about living in an addict is how perpetually fucking gross, and i mean gross, the results and ramifications of their addiction result to in day to day activities. i have to deal with an addict who pisses herself regularly, practically shits herself, doesn't wash her hands, brain fog; is so forgetful she literally forgets how old i am. she is a miserable shell of herself. she doesn't drink water, thats how fried her tastebuds are. she only drinks 2 litre bottles of coca cola. the full fat kind.
i'm so serious. yesterday evening she barged in on me trying to take a bath to use the toilet. i asked her 10 min prior to that if she needed to go and to try and go just in case. she didn't wash her hands afterwards. she banged on the door because i locked it for a solid two mins yelling to be let in. its shit like this that happens all the time.
at every point your boundaries mean nothing, because privacy means nothing to an addict when they want something out of you. so you get no privacy, at all, ever, meaning you get frustrated. random intrusions into your room making you consider getting a door lock.
and the constant dick pulling to get your boundaries respected - not even a heads up that people are over the house after a long day at work. my mom is pushing 50 and she engages in casual sex with a guy who's in love with her and like 10 years younger than her. i never said he couldn't come by the flat, just that i wanted a heads up.
i pay rent, and bills, by the way! but the irony. the cruel irony. i can't get upset about these living conditions. i can't get angry, or stand my ground, and say 'this is gross, and i live here too.' or that i want my right to privacy. that i demand it, that i need it. but when SHE needs something, when SHE'S angry, i have to be the cute punching bag.
i feel like i'm simultaneously playing mother and being treated as a 13 year old child. yet its me who's handling all this paperwork, doing practically all of the chores in the house, the one chore she does she fucking sucks at, but i'm supposed to be 'accommodating' because she's got fibromyalgia. i also live with a chronic heart condition that fucking bollocks me everyday, and i don't make excuses. i'm not late to work. i'm expected to juggle tard wrangling an addict, a relationship, friendships, my degree, a full time fucking job, my own failing health, chores around the house, and healing myself from the insane amount of shitfuckery i've endured over the years.
yeah, i know i'm doing the right thing by calling it quits, leaving soon and not looking back. does it hurt? yeah. do i wish things were different? of course i do. but i shouldn't have to raise my medications to cope living here. i shouldn't have to disassociate from my feelings to get through another day. i should be allowed to fucking take a bath in peace. a full night's sleep. not being judged for drinking a shot of gin in some lemonade as if i'm some little fucking kid.
i was told by a relative recently that my 'mom is hard work but deserves empathy'. don't make me fucking laugh. where was my empathy when i was abused as a child? where was my empathy when i was forced to drink gone off, watered down milk? where was my empathy when i was beat in a shower as a 6 year old and forced to wash myself as two grown adults screamed at me about how much of a failure and a evil child i was, over something i didn't even do? where was my empathy, where was my support, when i felt so evil, so disgusting, so vile and out of control of my life i started to hurt myself as a child, started to starve and hurt myself to feel in control of something? i was 12. i was 12 and i deserved empathy. i am in my 20's, and i deserve empathy, too.
i didn't even get any sort of celebration for my birthday this year. no card, no call, no fanfare from anyone aside from a few close friends and boyfriend who banded together to make some cute art for me and play some video games. and their friendship, their love, means everything to me at the moment. i don't know if i could carry on without them.
i deserve better. i refuse to be like my mother. i refuse to be cruel [ironic, on kiwifarms.] and a bitter person. i choose to be better, i demand it of myself, i choose to follow God. i deserve better and if that means spending christmas alone, i don't care. i'll spend it with Christ, in a hotel room by myself with some chinese food watching shitty christmas films, or friends, or hell, maybe i'll even volunteer at a local charity thing. that sounds way better than what i'm used to. i haven't decorated a christmas tree since i was 14. jehovahs witnesses have a better time.
apologies that this is so sad and 'woe is me'. i just can't wait to get the fuck out of here and never look back.
