Here we go. (Im gonna focus on the bad parts of my life, im not saying my life has been complete $#%^, it hasn't, but anyway)
When I was little my Mom and dad used to fight alot. I dont remember much of it, but my Mom has told me stories about it, many of which I dont remember. Anyway he and she broke up and we stayed with our mother until she left us with our father (we was six or seven at the time). We was of course heartbroken because we both loved our Mom very deeply and we couldnt understand why she would leave us like that.
So she left us with our father, which I didnt really mind at the time, because my dad had all these computer gadgets and let me play games like quake, unreal and serious sam, good times were had. But my dad had some extreme anger issues. He could get furiously angry over silly things. He sometimes punished me for coming home to late by not letting me eat supper (evening food?) while watching TV in the living room with them. It might not sound that bad, but it was the way he did it, screaming and shouting at me like it was the worst thing I've ever done, (which pretty much sums up all his arguments) leaving me in tears and shame in the kitchen alone.
Another time he would have me and my sister walk to the store to buy soda for the pizza he was gonna make, and on the way we would play and imagine that we was on a quest or something (we are both infp). We spent to much time and when we got home they had eaten all the pizza or something, and he told us we we're two idiotic kids and that next time qe wenr out we should wear a note saying just that. One time he even cleaned the cats piss, with the cat, and that is what I think of if I ever feel I shouldn't be mad at him, he did that dispicable thing and it instantly makes me feel hate towards him.
Many years later we finally told the rest of our family about him, and after a couple of more incidents I was moved to a foster care and my sister to a dormatory at the school she studied at. Things were looking up.
But after a year with the new family, they told me I was a bad influence on their son (I probably was) and that they had found another foster care for me. I could basically choose between a new family or moving back in with my mother. Obviously I chose my mother. I didnt want anyone to think that my mother couldn't take care of me, right? But I probably should've taken all those times she let me down by rather drinking with friends than spending time with me. My mother has always had a drinking problem, nowadays I just call it a proneness to boredom and inability to take proper responsibility. Anyway the first half year wasnt that bad, (I was 16) but on from there on she begun drinking again. Friends would stop by with their own beers. They would talk loudly, listen to music and make an awful lot of noice (my mom the most). After that year I wanted to get the hell out of there, to punish her, and to leave her in her misery, hopefully realizing the damage she had caused. But she didn't, she kept on drinking an playing a helpless victim to her "illness". So many times has she recovered, without a sweat, and when I confronted her on the subject, she told me I simply didn't understand the illness she was facing.
Today I have lost contact with most my friends, except from a few recent ones, and my mom is not drinking anymore. But I still don't know her. It's like she has Histrionic personality disorder. The way she walks, the way she talks, always loudly and dramatically, like she has to catch a train or something. I have noticed my own behaviour to be quite Histrionic as well and i'm gonna take it up with my doctor tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
