ExitLight
Bronze Member
This past Saturday was my cousin's big 420, "weed's legal party" in Maine now type of thing.
My brother lives with this cousin, and my mom brought up more furniture for me, and then picked me up and we went there together.
I don't drink. I don't like the possibility of getting drunk. Never have gotten drunk. I still feel like I haven't gotten drunk, even writing this now.
When my aggressively social brother poured a shot of 80 proof moonshine, and slid it towards me, I felt so compelled like it was what I was supposed to do. He was offering - TAKE it!
I've never taken a shot before, and I felt completely peer pressured. I'm usually able to stand my ground. I've been offered many times before, been offered shrooms, acid, and a bunch of other shit. But with him, I felt like I was supposed to. He offered more throughout the night but I'm proud of myself because I didn't continue taking shots. Because I realized that feeling after I had taken the shot and decided not to let that feeling affect my decision making again.
After that, I sat back, and watched my dysfunctional family be the dysfunctional train wreck that it is. I've been thinking about myself a lot, how I should handle things, and why I feel the things I do, and experience the things I do.
So I just watched.
I watched my mom pick a fight with my brother about why my dad didn't put in more effort to come see me that day because he made plans with my brother, even though I was okay with it, I really didn't want to try and juggle that many things that day.
I watched my brother completely de-validate anything she said. I watched my cousin try to build up her holier than thou/know it all complex "We all judge, we all have different opinions," the peanut gallery said safely from the couch, surrounded by friends. Must've felt good to stick it to her, heh. I watched my mom almost strangle a cat because she was high, drunk, and on an Ativan(prescribed, but she shouldn't be drinking) all at once. I listened to her plot to steal the cat. What the f*ck, mom? I watched my brother play games. I watched him be the shittiest one on the team. That kinda felt good. I watched him do what he always does when he feels like he's not the best - pretend he's the best, and really loudly too. I watched the other people in the room cringe because most all of them are also gamers and they knew he was being what we call "Elitist."
But most importantly. And this is the one that scares me the most.
I watched what I thought, and I believe, was a collective understanding between 3 people and me. I think they finally saw the dysfunction that I see too. For the first time, they understood why I wasn't myself.
For the first time - I wasn't talking! I'm usually in the crowd, talking about, helping out, cleaning, etc.
But not this time. I was busy sitting on the arm of the couch, closest to the door, messaging friends for an S.O.S emergency ride to a town 30 minutes from where they live.
And at one point or another throughout the night, I could see, that they understood. It's like that type of thing where you make eye contact, look at the person that you both clearly know is the causing the tension, and then the subtle nod of agreement.
The whole night felt unreal. The whole night felt at the same time so overwhelming, but my body shut off instead. I didn't feel drunk. I didn't even feel high. I felt like time was at a stand still and I couldn't get out fast enough. All my brain wanted to focus on was surviving by getting the f*ck out.
My mom wanted to spend the night at my apartment. She was falling asleep in the passenger seat on the way home, and I was watching her from the back. And I thought "Hmm.. an Ativan and a couple shots of moonshine. She could actually be dying. Maybe her blood pressure is dropping too low. Do I wake her up just to check? What if she wakes up and I have to tell her I don't want her to spend the night? I better not." I reached my hand out once to touch her shoulder, regretted it halfway there, and pulled my hand back.
So when we got to my apartment driveway, I pasted on a long forgotten, yet familiar fake smile "I'll call you in the morning! Love ya! Good night!"
I walked from the car to the stairs, up the stairs, through the door, locked it behind me, and then it hits me. The panic attack. I told myself over and over again...
"It's MY apartment. MINE." Because in that moment, I needed to reassure myself that what I have doesn't have to be shared, especially with someone that unstable and toxic, and especially that night.
I shuffled through old furniture, my grandmother's things, some of my old things, nostalgia-ridden items, and cleaned all that night. I cried, woke up the next morning, cried. I cried later that day, and then I cried the next day. I had a fight with my Fiance that I felt was completely channeled through the feelings I felt from my mom. None of which were my own. I felt like I almost was my mom. In the sense that during the time she was here, she put such a stain on the room, that when I went to clean it a second time, I ended up barking at my fiance the same way my mom barked at me, and her boyfriend, until I couldn't stop. I screamed at him, I cried, I was psychotic.
3 hours spent dissociating while I watch what goes on when my mom and brother are in the same room sent me into a 3 day tailspin of flashbacks, dissociating, panic attacks, crying, and just hell.
I'm so tired.
My brother lives with this cousin, and my mom brought up more furniture for me, and then picked me up and we went there together.
I don't drink. I don't like the possibility of getting drunk. Never have gotten drunk. I still feel like I haven't gotten drunk, even writing this now.
When my aggressively social brother poured a shot of 80 proof moonshine, and slid it towards me, I felt so compelled like it was what I was supposed to do. He was offering - TAKE it!
I've never taken a shot before, and I felt completely peer pressured. I'm usually able to stand my ground. I've been offered many times before, been offered shrooms, acid, and a bunch of other shit. But with him, I felt like I was supposed to. He offered more throughout the night but I'm proud of myself because I didn't continue taking shots. Because I realized that feeling after I had taken the shot and decided not to let that feeling affect my decision making again.
After that, I sat back, and watched my dysfunctional family be the dysfunctional train wreck that it is. I've been thinking about myself a lot, how I should handle things, and why I feel the things I do, and experience the things I do.
So I just watched.
I watched my mom pick a fight with my brother about why my dad didn't put in more effort to come see me that day because he made plans with my brother, even though I was okay with it, I really didn't want to try and juggle that many things that day.
I watched my brother completely de-validate anything she said. I watched my cousin try to build up her holier than thou/know it all complex "We all judge, we all have different opinions," the peanut gallery said safely from the couch, surrounded by friends. Must've felt good to stick it to her, heh. I watched my mom almost strangle a cat because she was high, drunk, and on an Ativan(prescribed, but she shouldn't be drinking) all at once. I listened to her plot to steal the cat. What the f*ck, mom? I watched my brother play games. I watched him be the shittiest one on the team. That kinda felt good. I watched him do what he always does when he feels like he's not the best - pretend he's the best, and really loudly too. I watched the other people in the room cringe because most all of them are also gamers and they knew he was being what we call "Elitist."
But most importantly. And this is the one that scares me the most.
I watched what I thought, and I believe, was a collective understanding between 3 people and me. I think they finally saw the dysfunction that I see too. For the first time, they understood why I wasn't myself.
For the first time - I wasn't talking! I'm usually in the crowd, talking about, helping out, cleaning, etc.
But not this time. I was busy sitting on the arm of the couch, closest to the door, messaging friends for an S.O.S emergency ride to a town 30 minutes from where they live.
And at one point or another throughout the night, I could see, that they understood. It's like that type of thing where you make eye contact, look at the person that you both clearly know is the causing the tension, and then the subtle nod of agreement.
The whole night felt unreal. The whole night felt at the same time so overwhelming, but my body shut off instead. I didn't feel drunk. I didn't even feel high. I felt like time was at a stand still and I couldn't get out fast enough. All my brain wanted to focus on was surviving by getting the f*ck out.
My mom wanted to spend the night at my apartment. She was falling asleep in the passenger seat on the way home, and I was watching her from the back. And I thought "Hmm.. an Ativan and a couple shots of moonshine. She could actually be dying. Maybe her blood pressure is dropping too low. Do I wake her up just to check? What if she wakes up and I have to tell her I don't want her to spend the night? I better not." I reached my hand out once to touch her shoulder, regretted it halfway there, and pulled my hand back.
So when we got to my apartment driveway, I pasted on a long forgotten, yet familiar fake smile "I'll call you in the morning! Love ya! Good night!"
I walked from the car to the stairs, up the stairs, through the door, locked it behind me, and then it hits me. The panic attack. I told myself over and over again...
"It's MY apartment. MINE." Because in that moment, I needed to reassure myself that what I have doesn't have to be shared, especially with someone that unstable and toxic, and especially that night.
I shuffled through old furniture, my grandmother's things, some of my old things, nostalgia-ridden items, and cleaned all that night. I cried, woke up the next morning, cried. I cried later that day, and then I cried the next day. I had a fight with my Fiance that I felt was completely channeled through the feelings I felt from my mom. None of which were my own. I felt like I almost was my mom. In the sense that during the time she was here, she put such a stain on the room, that when I went to clean it a second time, I ended up barking at my fiance the same way my mom barked at me, and her boyfriend, until I couldn't stop. I screamed at him, I cried, I was psychotic.
3 hours spent dissociating while I watch what goes on when my mom and brother are in the same room sent me into a 3 day tailspin of flashbacks, dissociating, panic attacks, crying, and just hell.
I'm so tired.
