Tonight, I unveiled the new Mommy Me... Bitch Mom. At least in Leigh’s eyes. She didn’t want to play nicely with others (i.e. make her room stop smelling badly and looking like a homeless man’s dumpster), so I told her to stay in her room while I was gone. And left. With the three other daughters.
She is fifteen, and I am tired of my life—of all our lives—playing second fiddle to her mental illnesses. Oppositional Defiant Disorder, Reactive Attachment Disorder, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Anxiety, Depression, Self-Mutilation, General Pain in the Ass Refuses to Do Anything She’s Asked or Be Nice to Anyone Syndrome.
She is so angry, with every breath it just oozes off of her, and I wonder when she’ll snap. She lies, with every word she speaks. And I'm tired of all of it.
So now, the answer is NO. To everything.
No. No. No.
No, you may not _____, until you have _____. No ifs, no ands, no buts, no negations, NOTHING. Until you can be nice, feel free to stay in your smelly room. Feel free to sleep 24-7. Feel free to wear the same clothes day in and day out, and not bathe. But until you no longer smell like unwashed hooker clothes and look homeless, you will not get in my car to go anywhere with me.
I will not fight you about the cigarettes, alcohol and weed you sneak every chance you get. But if you indulge these on my property, by GodAllahBuddha, your probation officer will be called, as will the local PD and they will haul your ungrateful, ever-expanding ass to juvie.
I don’t care that I can’t have you committed anywhere. I don’t care that you aren’t suicidal or homicidal enough to get the damned insurance company to pay attention—eventually, mental illness or not, you have to make a decision.
YOU have to decide if you want a life, if you want to do more than just live. Or not. And nothing I do or don’t do will fix that. I will continue to lay out your meds in the morning. I will continue to buy food. I will continue to make sure you wake up to get on a bus. I will continue to love you no matter what. But I have learned that I don’t have to like you. And I don’t remember the last time I really liked you.
But from now on, if you want something, the answer is no, unless you meet my terms. I don’t care how crazy you are, it will be my way.
Because I AM the mom, and I’m in charge, damn it, whether you like it or not. And if you don’t? Oh well. You’ve survived worse.
And I can lock my bedroom door.
ba-deep ba-deep ba-deep . . .
7 years ago