Family Thoughts #346587

#LastRTs I guess I’m not the only one.

The other day, our mum once again screamed at my brother until she started crying and once again called her parents to come over to take care of the screaming for her. Our grandpa happily (or angrily) took over the screaming. Fortunately, he chose much more poetic words like “Verreck im Dreck” (go die in the dirt). Our grandma stood next to him, eagerly agreeing with any insult and thirsting for more, rubbing it in his face over and over to make him feel as bad as she did in her childhood. Our mum seems to have stopped threatening him with getting rid of him by making him live with our dad instead because he actually wants that himself now since it most likely can’t be worse. Only that our dad lives across the ocean in the US. This time, our grandpa said it to our mum instead but she didn’t want that of course since she’d be all alone then. She doesn’t actually mean what she says, as she said herself. But she constantly says things she doesn’t mean. As I said multiple times before, we have to leave her or she breaks our souls, but we can’t leave her because that would break her soul which would also do the same to us.

Like a day after I told our mum that I want to move away and her anger turned into sadness, she wanted to know why, saying that she won’t be able to sleep until I tell her the exact reason because it surely had something to do with her. I never want to tell her what she did/does wrong because I don’t want to make her sad. I definitely wouldn’t ever be able to be happy or sleep again if I had taken part in the creation of human life and that beloved child of mine that I’d have decided to bring to life and give all of my love to were to say to me what we think about our mum. But the few times I attempted to criticise her, it didn’t do anything besides making her temporarily angry, so I’ve learnt that I’m not only risking making her extremely sad but also that it’s pointless anyway. This time though, I mentioned many things that I never told her before. She said she didn’t understand many things and many things only happened a long time ago, so they don’t have anything to do with the present but she also said that things would be different now and that she would give me more space. And treat my brother better.

Not long after, when I was at her place and fixed laptop issues for her, she asked me, as many times before, if she’s doing anything wrong with her parenting because she feels like we don’t love her. As always, I said no because anything else would be pointless. I literally just told her what she does wrong and she already forgot everything. Pointless. Maybe she can’t comprehend or remember what I say because she has to be in denial of the truth to avoid sadness and sleeplessness. Not that either of us can properly sleep anyway. And this Saturday, she came over to my place and knocked on the door simply because I wasn’t online. If she can’t contact me at all times, it surely means that I’ve been murdered by a violent video gamer or rampaging rapist. So much for giving me more space. Everything is already forgotten, everything is as it was before.

My brother told me on Mumble how happy he is that I always understand the issues he has and tells me about, unlike everyone else. I’m happy that I can be there for him, at least. As I said in the Dialga cover I dedicated to his birthday, I’ve been more of a parent to him than our “real” parents ever have. And I will forever regret that I, too, did many things wrong. I was too young and didn’t realise my responsibility. I unfortunately can’t undo my mistakes from the past but I realised them, acknowledged them and promised to never do them again. I’m happy that we understand each other so well. It lets us know that the things that happened are actually real and actually bad, not that we made them up out of ungratefulness or that they were actually good, as our other family members have always been telling me and him, and that there is someone who understands and cares. I wish I had someone like that when I was young.

I miss hugging him.

He also sobbingly told me that our mum always tells him how bad he is, that he can’t do anything and that she wants him to be perfect. I’m a perfectionist and “even” I wasn’t good enough. It’s much worse for him. I wonder where my non-existing self-worth comes from. I hope I can prevent his from disappearing.

I don’t like the word “family”. To me, it means nothing. To me, it means a group of people one is born into without choice and has to give respect and love, no matter what they do, and never criticise them or dare say no. It means a lineage of misery that each generation continues, it means hate, distrust, defamation, despair, intrigues, impossible expectations, no understanding and no empathy. It should be a great word. But it isn’t for me. Friends on the other hand is a wonderful word. It means people who care about you, people you care about, mutual understanding and respect, empathy, trust, happiness and joy. People you choose. People that are good for you.

Writing stuff like this down makes it sound worse than it seemed before in my head, even though I only wrote down tiny bits and they are just simple and quick words that don’t contain or transmit the actual feelings felt during the events. That must be one of the effects of our family members telling us none of those things ever happened. Which also made me not really consciously realise most of this and who I actually am until a couple of years ago. What really happened? I think there might have been a seal spy.

Now I feel bad again, I just started working on finally finishing the Famous Five cover and felt great. Until I saw those relatable tweets and I wanted to write this down. Will I ever finish another fideo? Tomorrow, definitely.