Just when things seem their suckiest - BAM! kicked in the balls.

Now I don't talk about my family or childhood in general out of respect for my family members - who would be mightily offended that I might talk about them at all.  Good or bad.

The car is having problems and the money sent to get me home is being frittered away bit by bit trying to solve the problems.  This is completely normal in my universe.  It is not in theirs.  Therefore - all problems are my fault.

I'm already not well.  I'm struggling just to get things in order to make a 3 day drive knowing full well I may never see my boat again. But now - they aren't sure they can "handle" having me around.  Because being mentally ill isn't ok.  Actually needing something is not ok.  Needing something from them - definitely not ok.

Find a job.  Find an apartment.  What do you mean you are planning to leave in 6 to 8 months, we expect you to stay permanently.  You have to stay here with us - who want you to be anyone except you know, YOU.  Because we don't know you or like you very much.  

Now add to that the fact that my mental illness likes to use birds and my parents voices to tell me what a horrible despicable human being I am that is unworthy to live.  MMM, that is a recipe for some good times right there.  Good times.  

If I explain what is happening to me - my mum sees it as a personal attack on her failure as a mum. Nevermind that isn't what I said, or meant, or even implied.  All she sees is personal attacks on her ability as a mum.  Which I could argue kind of sucked given the things that are suddenly coming out now that were just ignored - but I'm not even going there.  I'm just trying to get along and get through this.

And yet.  I asked her for one thing while I was freaking out - that she would tell me it was ok, I wasn't going to die and to come home.  And she couldn't.  I specifically spelled out - I need to hear this from you right now: it's going to be ok, you won't die, come home.  And she wouldn't or couldn't - it doesn't even matter which - and I keep asking myself, why?

Because it's my fault my own mum can't even lie to me when I need to be told it's going to be ok.

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