Insomnia!

It's really getting old, this not sleeping bullshit. Especially since all the condos around me have been rented by families with gaggles of children under the age of ten who wake up and begin shrieking (who knew the human voice could go so high?) between 7-8am. Kill me.

In response to the comment on my last post--Yep, Brian, it's you who lives in Rochester, NY and reads my blog. I'm on to you! ;) Also, I don't know where the parents of that child were. I do know that the grandparents were on a boat, staying in the marina in front of our restaurant, and I assume the parents were there. Who knows.

I think perhaps enough time has elapsed since my father's passing to fully extend to you all the behavior of my mother, the "Last Man Standing", since then.

My mother is insane.

My mother is an alcoholic.

My mother is selfish, manipulative and cruel.

With these things in mind....

Mom hated dad. I assume she loved him (or his bank account) at one time, as she was married to him for over a decade and had a child with him. (A child she snuck upon him, actually. I got the whole story from my sisters, finally, and found my parent's divorce papers, so I now know who said what and why and so on....Interesting.)

Mom hated my dad, hated the fact that I 'abandoned' her to come here and take care of him. (Granted, that's not what happened. Yes, I took care of dad, but not until I had been here a year or so.) She hates me because I refused to take any more of her shit, give her any more money, or allow her to abuse me.

When dad died, and I told her, she cried. I was confused by this....but she cries all the time anyway.

For the first few days she was great. Supportive, kind, she listened, expressed concern for my well being.

That has since ended.

It's now all about her. (as usual.) "I have two dead husbands!", she cried.

"I have two dead dads.", I responded.

"Your father's death just shook me up! It keeps bringing back all these terrible memories for me!" (she now tells me all of them while sobbing, smoking, and pausing to crack another beer. {Aside:My mother is doing the "its only beer! It's not real alcohol!" justification route. Sure, mom. I'll sit down and drink 40 Cokes while you drink forty beers and we'll see who's doing better at the end.})

"You had the service, what are you still sad for?"

Mostly she just talks, and talks, and talks, and rages on and on about how horrible I am to her. How I obviously don't love her because I am not back in that infernal hellhole where she is, since dad died. (she seriously thought that my first action after watching my dad die would be to jump in the car and go take care of her. Again.) About how she is going to move here now, whether I like it or not. How I am irresponsible, mean.

She talks and talks, and I say literally nothing. NOTHING! She's just babbling, she doesn't care who to.

I wish I had a family.

I have sisters, sure. But they aren't really my family. I do have my cousins.

But it's not the same.

I guess I'm just feeling sorry for myself. My step dad, whom I loved more than anyone, gets shot. My father, with whom I had just recently began to foster a good relationship with, dies in front of me. My mother, who I do nothing but fight with disowns me (this is my 50th disownership, btw. Consistent, that woman.) and then acts like nothing is wrong and demands things of me that I will not give her. Oh, and she told me not to marry T.

(in her mind, if I get married, she is no longer my #1 priority. And if I get married, I will probably have kids, and then she isn't even in the top 3. What she doesn't understand is that for the first fucking time in my 25 years on this planet, I AM MY #1 PRIORITY.)

It's just exhausting, depressing.

I am really trying to not let my distaste for this woman spill over on to other people that I know. Let me clarify that--

Anyone who drinks to excess.

My mother has instilled a burning, seething hate for alcoholics in me. Even if someone closer to me than anyone else drinks too much--I feel that seething for them.

I try to hide it.

People can make their own choices, and I cannot and should not judge them for that. If you are an adult, you can do pretty much what you want within the confines of the law here in the USA and no one can tell you different.

Which is why I hide the seething. I get so. So. SO upset with T if he drinks too much--even if he drinks just enough to smell like alcohol. I don't want him to kiss me, sleep in the same bed as me, anything, if he smells like that. It repulses me, and I feel fucking guilty as hell about it--I love him--he IS my heart--He isn't doing anything wrong, nor should he have to change the fact that he has a few beers from time to time because I'm neurotic.

I have some wine now and again, but I don't think I have been intoxicated in a long, long time.

Double standard, much?

As I have said before--You can't push your morals onto other people--you will always be disappointed.

Sigh.