I was depressed. More depressed than I had ever been in my life. The hormones, colicky baby, lack of sleep and little compassion from others had taken it's toll on me. My mother never answered her phone and neither did my supposed "best friend". I was drowning in new motherhood and I had no one to turn to except my husband who was in the same condition as I was. I couldn't shake this feeling of betrayal. The worst part about this evil feeling was the simple fact that I had been betrayed and I knew it all along.
People in our society give grieving people so much slack. Maybe they should, but how much time should be given to this person, if any at all? Does it depend on the reason for the grief? Does it come down to how much willingness the person wants to contribute to helping themselves? I will never know, but I do know that screwing over your loved ones with the excuse of grief still fucking hurts your loved ones.
Then their are the assholes who are just that. No excuse for being a jackass, but the simple fact that they are a jackass. I like those kind the best. At least you can predict their lack of interest in your well being. They don't set you up for hurt unknowingly. They let you know you will never be important to them. It hurts, but not as much as someone who you would do anything for.
"Oh, boo fucking hoo Emma. Get over it." I can seriously hear my mother telling me the same shit she always told me. I couldn't give her the same support she infamously gave me, she was too fragile anymore, or at least that is how she was acting. I really didn't believe it. Maybe that is my fault, but she nurtured me this way. I was already in therapy because of her craziness and other things. I couldn't stay mad at her. She is my mother, and that is the weird part about blood relatives. They could murder you and you would still forgive them. At least my dumbass would.
Friends are different. You could grow up together, and they will still find the most hurtful unforgivable thing to do to you.
I've never been much for friendships. I have three dogs and a husband. I'm good. My father had the same disregard for friendships. The older I get, the closer to my father I feel. I finally understand him. Too bad he is dead.
That is why my mother was grieving. It hadn't just happened or anything, but she was still grieving. She wasn't even a former shell of the woman I once knew. Apparently my mother had reverted back to her teenage years. She had become some crazy drunken slut. That didn't bother me. What bothered me was that she had created a new family and left her real family behind. I had already mourned my father, now I had to mourn my very much alive mother.
Yep, the summer is starting off great.
