Tired of the Tears
3:07 p.m. - 2005-05-10


"That was a kick, but you're probably not able to feel it yet." Whoosha-whoosha-whoosha-BUMP!-BUMP! This baby is going to be a feisty one.

We heard the heartbeat today. Everything sounded fine, or so the doctor said. He was concerned about my blood pressure when I first got there (152/82--exceedingly high for me), and about the crippling headaches that I've been experiencing. After talking to him about what's been going on for a little while (bet he didn't expect to hear all that upon first meeting me), he decided that the rise in blood pressure was caused by the headaches, and the headaches were caused by stress. By the time I left the office, the BP was down to a much healthier 120/80, so obviously my talk with him helped. The recommended prescription? Stay away from my family.

Makes perfect sense to me. I was a nervous wreck after the shit that went down last weekend, and my conversation with them on Sunday night didn't do anything to alleviate the situation. Seems that my parents mean it when they say that they don't differentiate between their children--hell, they don't even pay attention to which one made them angry in the first place. My father's hateful nature knows no bounds, and he didn't have a problem cussing me and telling me how absolutely worthless I am. He went on to say that I'm no longer welcome at his house, and not to call them anymore. This episode of insanity was brought on by me making a phone call to them and interrupting their vacation. How fucking insensitive of me.

My mother infuriates me to no end with her sniveling support of my dad. The only reason she didn't leave him twenty years ago is because of money, and she's still sticking with him under that same principle. Doesn't matter that she sat up crying at the window every time he went on a four day drug and alcohol binge, or that he beat his kids within an inch of their lives for not feeding the goddamn dog on time. Hell, I got so used to having my hair ripped out by the handfuls and being kicked in the chest and stomach until I couldn't breathe that I still jump when Alan goes to put his arm around me. As far as she's concerned, Daddy has and will always be right, and anyone that disagrees with him might as well get ready to lose her support to. Because you don't ever go against Daddy.

I lost my temper on Sunday night, but managed to keep from crying. Not when Mama called this afternoon, though. I've spent the last hour bawling my eyes out, and regardless of what she says, it's not just pregnancy hormones. I'm hurt that my parents can be so hateful, so cold. I don't understand how two people who have so much to be grateful for can be so goddamned miserable all the time, and I can't fathom why they want to crush the people who love them most in the world.

I'll kill myself if I feel myself getting close to acting like that.

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I am: so very many things. A mother, a wife, a dreamer, a lover of animals and babies, a friend. I've been called a bitch, but if that's what you call someone who stands up for what they believe in and refuses to settle, then I guess the title fits.

loves: my family, horses, a full night's sleep, puppy breath, my daughter's laughter, thunderstorms, bubble baths, makeup, soft sheets, David Sedaris and Augusten Burroughs, wine, massages, the written word, and sour straws.

dislikes: closed minds, depression, pimples, extreme heat, math, panic attacks, black licorice, doing laundry, white chocolate, gin, Bush.