Childhood. Insanity. Every Day.

I remembered your letters. All of them. I ached inside wishing they were true.

words, words, words v. ACTIONS!

I remembered you complaining to me that I did not spend enough time with my mother.

You never fully understood the stress.

I remember feeling like I couldn't breathe when you said that to me. If felt like the person I was closest to had punched me in the stomach. I felt dizzy when you said that to me.

My mother had asked me a few weeks ago to come over to help her clean the house on this particular weekend.

So I showed up and the only other person helping her was my sister.

I spent my childhood looking after my mother, translating, filling out forms, organizing her stupid coupons in plastic expandables, helping her wash AND FOLD endless mounds of clothes, endless mounds of dishes. I woke every morning stressed and anxious knowing that the tasks would be endless. I never had a childhood, ever.

She was standing on a chair trying to clean a ceiling fan. I asked her to come down from the chair so I could clean it for her. She refused because she is stubborn. I stood there the entire time while she cleaned it waiting so if she teetered or fell I could catch her. I cleaned a few more hours, felt mentally and emotionally exhausted and left. If you could just see..... No one else helped to clean.

Sunday morning I get a phone call from Mark. My mom tried to clean the ceiling fan in the living room and broke her wrist. Where were her favourite sons? No one was there to catch her fall. The boys sleep in or are too damn busy to help clean. She will need surgery this week.

I was texted to cook a god damn chicken today for dinner. I went over. I already knew she would complain if I used the oven inside the house. So I tried to start the propane oven outside to avoid her senseless complaining.  I had never used it. Upon lighting the fire it incinerated my hair, eyebrow and some of my hand. And then it became so clear..... tip toeing, trying to please everyone, trying to make every one happy, the insanity associated with my mother. Her senseless stubbornness.  And then me exploding. This is the same woman who picked two pieces of "fruit"from a tree (la manzana de la muerte), a tree that is actually the most poisonous tree on earth after someone specifically told her not to. The same woman who overpacked a brand new mini van and got us stranded in the middle of the desert on December 24th.

I decided after my hair and eyebrow and hand had been burned to cook the chicken inside, she complained. I exploded.

I went for a 3 mile run and sobbed the entire time. The insanity. The fact that she has always taken up so much emotional and mental energy.  Spending my entire life trying to make others happy and always falling short.

I needed a hug.

I needed a hug just because.

I needed a hug because I lost my shit.

I needed a hug because I know she won't be around much longer.

I needed a hug because I missed my friend.

I needed a hug because I know you never understood.

I just needed a hug.

I came home upset. I fed the dogs. I cut my finger on the can of dog food. There were spots of my blood all over the sink and kitchen floor.

I just sat and cried.

(The back of my mind hears this robotic sound repeating, "I am not tactile. I am not tactile.")

I cry even more.

I remembered when you said..... if you ever want to talk.