In case you give a flying fuck, no I’m not okay.
My mum and her husband showed up at my flat earlier. I didn’t know they were coming and I didn’t answer the door when I heard someone knocking, but she has a spare key and they let themselves in. Her husband’s presence made me instantly uncomfortable, especially as he chose to interject himself into the argument. As usual, she didn’t listen to my point of view, nor could she understand why I want to leave Grantham (she can live here because she’s visibly ‘normal’). I told her that I was seriously considering going back to Rochester because I’e run into so many brick walls here in the UK and have had just as many bad experiences as I did there, if not more so. They ended up leaving because I had somewhat of a meltdown due to sheer frustration.
I’ve been drinking on and off since they left. I passed out earlier and woke up disoriented after an intense nightmare. I feel very upset about the fact that I allowed my ex to completely take advantage of me once again. I thought she’d changed and I thought she actually cared about me and genuinely wanted to be a friend. I thought that living with her might have actually been a good idea, as I’d have been in a far better / more suitable part of t he UK, far enough away from my mum and the past and that I’d have a friend who had my back and even the chance to be a sort of stepmom to her son.
I’m most likely going to leave all this behind for a third time and return to the United States. I’ve realised that people are just shit and fake everywhere, and that I’m always going to be lonely and isolated. I don’t even want to live, but I’m too much of a coward to attempt suicide again, having stared death right in the face in Scotland yesterday. I wish I could just be put to sleep, like an animal would be if it were suffering as much as I am. While I wouldn’t wish my pain on anyone, I do with that people could actually see it. My mental health has been on the decline for years and I don’t know how to stop the decline. No medication has worked and therapy became a safe place for me to talk because I didn’t have any friends.
As for my mum, I told her that I didn’t want to hate her, but I have been hating her lately because I just can’t live close to her. I feel like there’s no chance of salvaging this, because she has clearly blocked out a lot of what happened in the past and is in complete denial, convinced that she gave me the same upbringing as she did my 2 younger half siblings. But she’s hardly ever been alone in her life, going from one man to the next. While I know she has deep seeded problems herself, she’s not visibly different and as far as I can see, the only privilege she doesn’t have is male privilege. I don’t think she cares that much about me, except that she doesn’t want to have to deal with my belongings if I were to “do something to myself” (her words). She’s never going to change and my UK-based demons are never going to go away.
Maybe I should just show her this blog entry next time she asks what she’s supposed to have done? I still don’t think she’d listen though; it’s time I threw in the towel on my joke of what I once believed was my family. I should have just stayed away.