my monkied brain (katekat1010) wrote,
my monkied brain
katekat1010

wishing

don't want to work, don't want to learn, don't want to. It's the broken record of mantras, isn't it? I'm done before the semester's done. Lost my will to learn one more thing. Can't find it, don't want to find it. Would like to just take a night or two off and be done. Instead I find myself back in front of my computer, procrastinating, clicking 'refresh' on the flist and email, waiting for a decent distraction before I get back to work again.

Of course, distraction came in another form. My hysterical mother frantically, sobbingly, telling me that she can't do the job she just started a week ago, and she's sorry again that she's calling me to tell me so. I want to give her some of the strength she seems to have given me. Did she leach it from her own bones and put it into mine, leaving none for herself? I don't know. I don't have any answers. Not for her, not for me.

It's just that I can't help wish things were different. After every phone call, every frantic unvoiced sob in her voice, every denial and every shriek. I want to be strong for her, want to give her the distance and the detachment and the simple support that let her breathe a second. Give her something to reset the equilibrium, something to soften the world so she can have faith in people again.

But the pills she took once don't work any more - or that's what she said when she got off them. I don't know how to tell her that the drink works worse than the pills, and that being alone doesn't make it any better. Not without unintentionally inviting her into this little world I've made for myself that I retreat to, to rebuild. Because after talking, after grinding out the words and insisting on the outcomes, after hashing rehashing and attempting to give her a place to stand on, I find I don't have one left for myself. Not unless I retreat for a little while, take a deep breath again, bring the boundaries up and take the soul fear down.

No, I'm not my mother. No, I can't be her mother. No, nothing is perfect in the world. Isn't going to be, wasn't supposed to be, can't be.

The only constant is change.

Just wish... I just wish some things would truly change.
Tags: attempts at writing, family, rants
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