Sometimes We Expect More From Others, Because We Would Be Willing To Do That Much For Them

I haven’t spoken to my mother or brother since we moved out in February. Well that’s not entirely true, I went back for a few things we forgot and to clean up our bedroom, I tried to talk to my mother and got nothing back. When I knocked and my brother answered the door, he just stared at me and pointed to my mom’s bedroom when I asked where she was.

Granted, I hurt my mom. I wrote her a letter before we moved out, basically telling her I really didn’t want anything to do with my brother, or her. She just hurt me so much and I didn’t have room for more hurting.

So you may say well what did your mother do that was so horrible? Well it wasn’t any one thing. It was years of built up little things. It was my mother not being the mother I needed after Ayden died, it was my mother yet again picking my brother over me, and it was her ignoring me and being cold after I got into a fight with my brother. My mom was great in the hospital; she was supportive, she fielded phone calls and kept everyone up to date, and then Ayden was gone. She and my fiancé (now husband) both took a week off of work, we had the memorial, we went to the funeral home, we ordered Ayden’s “urn”, and I feel like I started slowly adjusting to reality.

And I feel like my mom made no effort to help me. She didn’t drag me out of my bedroom to watch a movie, she didn’t try to get me to go shopping, and she didn’t try to talk to me. After I got out of the mental health facility, in fact the night I got released, I got into a fight with my brother at the dinner table. My brother’s dog has this annoying habit of sitting under the table when they eat, and he sat on my feet that night and I wanted him off. I nudged him and he moved to my fiancé’s feet, my fiancé nudged him and my brother went off on this tirade about my fiancé kicking his dog , I couldn’t deal with it so I got up and left (one of my new techniques for remaining in control of my emotions I got instructed on during my time away). I came back out for seconds after I had finished my plate and my brother was still being a dick and asked my mother for the bread basket when it was sitting right in front of my fiancé. I got mad at him for being so ridiculous so I picked up the basket and set it in front of him…and accidentally knocked over his drink. He and my mother flipped out and started yelling at me, I said “It was an accident,” picked up my brothers drink and poured it all in his plate, and said “there, now you actually have a reason to be mad at me” and walked away.

My mother went and comforted my brother and then stopped talking to me, or even acknowledging my presence in the house. My mom started cooking for her and my brother, not all four of us, even though we contributed to the grocery buying and I began to feel like an unwelcome stranger in what I thought would always be the place I’d consider home. Tom and I moved out as soon as his next payday came around and aside from the three words exchanged when I went back, we haven’t spoken in any form since.