you'll never succeed in life if you keep that up
you got yourself into that mess. we're not helping you, so don't even ask
you've had your chance at freedom, now I want mine
God's punishing me for having you
I hate this house. Too many terrible memories in it
My mother has a way of saying exactly what came to mind the instant she thought of it. It's something she passed on to me, and then attacks me every time it happens in her presence. Thus #4 on the list. She'd holler and yell, I'd speak my mind, usually get slapped across the face for it, and then she'd bark out that, or something like it. I remember the day I went to the bus stop, and my friend H asked "what's that mark on your face?" I reached up, and realized it was blood. My mother held my face so hard in her fingernailed hands, she broke the skin, in multiple places.
So when I called home, and explained I was suddenly unemployed, her answer shouldn't have surprised me. She left me without any kind of answers, other than isolation. I spent the entire next day preparing for a colonoscopy, a test that determined "stress" was causing my digestive problems. "Just let go of the stress in your life, and it should go away." Not a problem, now that I don't have a job to go to.
I ran food and waited tables at a restaurant for a while. The interviews began rolling in. I landed here in TX after folding a US map in half, and praying for the "right half". My home town falls right in the middle of the country, at least on that map. So here I am. No one "helped me" here. My father came to my SC home and loaded a few of my items that the employers' mover didn't take. He drove here, unloaded those things into a motel room, and left the next day. "I offered to do more, but your mother wouldn't let me." I remarked, "The ONE time I asked for support. I didn't ask for money, remember? I didn't ask for bills to be paid. I just asked for some help finding a new job. Did that all on my own, too."
Now, I live too far away to visit. And, it's too hot here, too d#mn hot. Or, there just isn't enough vacation time to miss work or a paycheck, so my holiday trips home, I was alone more than I had company.
One day, travelling with the trailer (and Chewie) for a riding lesson, my father called. Seemed he'd had enough of being a responsible married adult. He'd decided he wanted time alone. His reasons, brought me to tears, and another confrontation.