by reallifegirl » Mon Nov 07, 2016 5:12 pm
Went home last night to see my dad & sister for church/dinner/watching Westworld. At dinner, Dad dropped the bomb, "By the way I'm planning on sorting through Mom's clothes tomorrow and donating what I don't keep, so if there's anything you want to keep you should get it now."
I was sort of blindsided and said so, and Dad said, "Well, you knew we were going to have to do this at some point, RLG."
I felt upset and apparently seemed upset all during dinner, because Jesus, if I'd known about this happening, I would have brought bags to carry stuff in and shown up earlier in the day so I'd have time to look through her stuff. Instead I found out at 7:30pm when my dad wants us to all spend the evening doing things together, like I can just go through my dead mom's stuff in 5 seconds like it's no big deal and then go back to church and Jeopardy with them.
Afterwards, I basically burst into tears while standing in front of her closet, and my sister burst into tears because I burst into tears, and Dad realized this was kind of more emotional than I guess he expected and said he didn't have to do it tomorrow and we could take whatever time we needed.
I hate this because I basically spent all of last night crying, and now I'm spending all of this morning trying not to cry, and I hate how easily I cry, and I hate that after a year and a half that even when I think I'm pretty stable and doing okay, something like knocks me off my feet.
And I hate that my family doesn't cry like I do, that I'm the lone fucking asshole who cries on a dime whenever Mom's brought up. Fuck, even when she died, we were clearing her stuff up from her hospital room and I was the only one in hysterics while the rest of the family was able to stay calm and take care of things. Same deal when my grandmother passed, everyone else is talking to the nurses while I'm sitting next to her dead body and unable to calm down.
And I hate that I feel bad about this, because my mom is dead and fuck it, I should be allowed to fucking be upset about this. I never cry over dumb bullshit in my day-to-day, I am allowed to be fucking upset about this. I hate that I feel like an alien whenever I'm upset over my dead mother, and I hate that Dad's first reaction was to be annoyed at me even if he came around.
And what it all just comes down to is that I hate that my mother is dead. She's dead, she isn't coming back, and I will never, ever, ever be able to do anything about it. In my head, I am a little kid throwing a tantrum, screaming "I WANT MY MOM" and there is absolutely fucking nothing I can do about it, because she's dead and all that's left is a corpse in a box in the ground and some clothes in her closet that I need to sort through.
"I can believe things that are true and things that aren't true and I can believe things where nobody knows if they're true or not."Encyclopedia Dramatica wrote:Reallifegirl: Is supposedly a girl in real life, but we all know that's false. Gets highest comment roughly 75% of the time, and has never had a single red-thumbed comment. Ever.