Christmas at Home
Miserable. Thats the one word i would use to describe my family. Miserable. No one here is happy and no one has a problem showing it. Everyone is grumbling and discontent no matter how polite or considerate someone else may be attempting to be… At least now i know where i get my curmudgeonly ways. Its in my blood… Like AIDS! Consuming and destroying any positivity that may be lurking inside.
I guess there should be some sort of sick comfort in the fact my family is in this sinking ship of misery together.
First my dad. He micromanges everything. He follows me, or anyone I suppose, around the house watching everything, commenting on everything. Nothing is ever right. Everything is wrong and its all my fault. He’s the victim somehow, and everyone else is wrong. He furrows is unkempt brow and his icy blue eyes freeze over in a mean glare. He’s never happy. He always alludes to how he won’t live much longer. Whether he is planning to go out with a (literal) bang like his brother or via a heart attack like his dear old dad, who knows, but you don’t need to say it.
Everyone is always talking. Narrating everything they do. Talking into the silence of the room to whoever may be listening. It’s as if within the silence you can hear the sadness tapping on the walls. Depression peeking through the windows reminding the whole family that it doesn’t get better.
Why’d you do this? Why not that? Why dop you want this? Why would you get that? What are you doing? Everyone is up in everyone else’s business. Maybe that’s why I dont ask questions. I just accept things I have gone so far off the Pivnicny plain. I dont want to become them. I don’t want to micromanagesomeone else”s existence because I hate my own so much.
The fat shaming. That’s something else as well. Directly, or sometimes, indirectly saying to me that I’m fat. Don’t you think I know? Dont you think when I look in the mirror I hate myself? I havent forgeotten I’m fat and you certainly don’t need to remind me. My fat has been dropping over the last year. I’m glad you said mom thinks I’ve lost weight, but what about you? No? I hide every bite I eat around you because I cant handle the judgement of every bite I take making me fatter and thusly less liked by you.
Mom, though, silently stews. Angry grumpy cat face and silence. The wicked silent treatment and she lets shit fester. Its backhanded and chiish and uncomfortable for anyone.
Dad paces and finds everyone in the house. Why cant he just let people be. I go to my room… What am I doing? Mom is somewhere. Where is she? Just leave people alone. Always in the way. Always lurking. Stop it. Just stop it.
Then the brother. Brother bear. He hates everything and everyone. Still living aty home and stays in his room most of the day. There’s so much more but he’s not a talker so nobody knows.
Things have happened. People have died but I never know the stories. I don’t know anything because nobody fucking talks in this family. Maybe thats why I keep my feelings balled up inside because i wouldnt know what to do if someone asked or cared about the answer!