Is it time for her to go yet? Surely 3 weeks are up already? No? Well, can we fast forward the next three weeks then… please!
The mother has been here less than 24 hours and all the rest I’d managed to get in the previous week has gone flying out the window. I’m dissociated, anxious, craving self-injury like nothing else on this Earth and wanting to run away sooo badly. Admittedly, this is my fault. I momentarily forgot who I was dealing with, so told her that the reason I’ve been off work is because I’m suicidal. That was such an incredibly stupid thing to admit to her. As was proven this morning when we were leaving the house – she walks outside the front door, turns to me and effectively destroys me in one conversation:
Mother (at the top of her voice): “It’s amazing the doctor didn’t go through any lists considering your suicidal.”
Us: “Mum, please the neighbours will hear.”
Mother (still at the top of her voice): “Oh, well, there aren’t any around.”
Us: “How do you know?”
She doesn’t get it. She really doesn’t. I can’t believe that she would say something like that for anyone and everyone to hear. It was just like so many of the things she did while we were growing up which stripped away our sense of self and cut us down to nothing. What’s worse, is that this time she KNOWS we aren’t well, she KNOWS we are suicidal…
I give up, I really do…