[x] Careful What You Wish For

Me and my dad didn't get along. From when I was in grade 7 till October last year. Just a couple of months ago. We just stopped fighting. Suddenly. Bam. One day we had our hands at each other's throats (whether this is just a saying or not, I'll leave it up to you to decide) and the next? We were hugging each other and never had another fight again.

I wanted people to care. I wanted my mom and dad to care, or at least show me they cared, despite everything. Because my mom used to care about me, she did. She used to take my side, because a lot of the time my dad was in the wrong. But then fights broke out between them, and she had to choose- me or him. I can't blame her for choosing him. I'd be gone in a couple of years, but she'd have to live with him forever after that.

So I was alone. My dad hated me because I wouldn't back down. My mom hated me because... Well, I could say because my dad hated me. Because she took his side. But maybe she didn't hate me because he did. Maybe she hated me because by fighting with him, I made her choose my dad's side because she couldn't choose mine with him around.

But sometimes, she hated me because he had spread lies to her. He told her things I never did, and she wouldn't believe me. I don't know why. So it was a combination of both.

So I guess I wanted them both to show that they cared. To take back the words they said (one I will always remember- "Thanks for showing me what a horrible mother I am. I have the worst daughter in the world.").

Mom hasn't changed. She's still the mom she was- she always cared when we were sick or hurt or upset, except that after she said those words quoted above, I stopped telling her things.

But my dad? He turned around completely. We're still getting used to this whole not-fighting thing. We're still trying to figure out what circumstances require a hug (and more often than not, we hug just to make sure we've covered it). Because if you knew the whole story, you'd know the peace started with a hug.

Now he's worried about the fact that I don't eat at lunch (I'm not that hungry when I get home, but this whole worry spurred a grocery shopping trip to pick up food for me alone, food for me to eat for lunch. I've hardly touched it because, well, I'm not hungry).

And then at supper today when I wasn't feeling well at all (mentally, physically, emotionally. Insomnia will do that to you) and he listed off what we were having for supper, I felt like being stubborn and morose and saying I wasn't hungry and I didn't want anything. He came back and listed off a few more items I could have- including "fresh baked bread." and I was silent as he left. When he called us out, I pointed out that it wasn't fresh bread, it was pre-baked and pre-frozen. Something that before October would have set him off for sure (it wasn't my intention to set him off, again, I'm a bitch when I'm all-around upset).

Instead he shrugged and amended his statement. I grabbed a few slices and turned around as he began to suggest something else, but he just stopped and said "Okay."

He also came up to me and told me what he does to help him sleep. I can tell he's worried about me, and he cares now. And I feel bad for making him worry. Some of the things he worries about are things I've been doing since forever, and he just seems to notice them now. I don't enjoy seeing him worry about me because of something out of his control. I've always been like that- I like the thought of someone worrying about me, in my mind it triggers as "I care about you," which triggers as "good," but I don't like it when they actually worry. I don't like worrying, and I don't want others to worry for something I've done....

Yeah. We still get on each other's nerves. We step on each other's toes and press each other's buttons. But it's more likely to happen by accident or just by not realizing what we're saying. And we're more likely to shrug it off than to explode.



Post a Comment