The past week sucked.
It was a mixture of stress, being tired, being nauseous, and crying my eyes out.
So many little things that had such a big effect on my well-being. Gah.
One of the worst things was definitely my helping a good friend to understand bipolar because her 6 year old was recently diagnosed. Which totally sucks. Not only for her but for her kid also. But it also felt good, you know? For me, I mean. Not that I’m happy that someone’s being diagnosed with a mental disorder, fuck no. It just felt good to help. To do what I want to do.
I don’t know if I ever told you, but once I have enough money, I’ll buy a camera and start making videos about my experiences with mental disorders, therapy, medication etc.
So helping that friend was definitely a start. And it just felt good.
That experience was totally part of what kept me going this week.
But then everything blew up and left me crying.
Which marks the other half of the worst things.
On Friday I went and got my Mom two tickets to a concert of the local choir because she had previously told me she’d love to go. So I went and got the tickets. Two, as I said. One for my Mom and one for someone of her choosing. I suggested my Grandma, but Mom wanted to take my Dad. Who was not amused. But he agreed to go with her.
So I was like…alright. I’ll take care of my brother.
Everything went perfectly fine. My brother and I watched Rio (our new favorite movie – so funny!), then we had some dinner and then I tucked him in.
Then I watched some TV and waited for my parents to come home.
When they arrived, my Mom was in awe. She was saying how she really liked it and that she was so grateful that I got her the tickets. My Dad, however, was cussing me out because it was horrible and that I better never come home with two tickets again because it was a big load of horse shit, he said.
For two minutes, I could hold in the tears, but then the floodgates came open and I fled the room.
My Mom came out of the bathroom and saw that I was gone which resulted in an argument with my father.
He then came up, wanting to apologize, but I kicked him out.
How can he be so freaking mean?
I was not pressuring him to go, neither was my Mom. He could’ve said no.
But he was like: “I’ll go.”
I was just trying to be nice. Trying to give something back. I mean…they’ve supported me year in, year out.
Why was he being so mean? I paid 14 bucks for the tickets. That’s what I get for two tutoring lessons. It’s hard earned money. And he was cussing me out?
I was (still am) so fucking disappointed.
Mom later came into my room and tried to comfort me, saying it was her fault for taking him with her. But it didn’t really help.