Tuesday, February 21, 2017

"They're not on my side."

A little inner voice that spoke to me back when I was 12 or so, re my parents. I was in our living room in Azle, Texas. I heard it clearly. (Note that it wasn't "They're not on YOUR side" --- it wasn't an outside voice. It was MY voice.) I felt momentarily relieved because of that moment of clarity: I wasn't crazy for feeling the bad vibes from my parents. I just, in a flash, realized that neither of them gave a shit about me. Knowing such a thing is simultaneously horrifying and liberating.

Two other times that "voice" has visited me:

(1) Staying with my mom at her new house in Austin when I didn't have a place to live after NYC. I'd spent 6 hours that day unpacking her boxes while she was back at her old house in San Antonio, cleaning. When she got home, I was sitting at the kitchen table doing freelance work. The first thing she asked me: "Did you look for bus-stops today?" She's not on my side.

(2) And just the other day: An acquaintance (formerly someone I was in love with) called me at work to bitch about Trump. (She and her daughters know nothing about politics, but they're from River Oaks in Houston, and all of their friends are, therefore, Sanders/Clinton/anti-Trump.) The Trump stuff was irritating but still tolerable. The tipping point came when I interrupted the anti-Trump diatribe to mention that I'd just been given a raise that very day. I was so excited! Now I could get a better place sans roof leaks! The acquaintance wasn't happy for me. I tried to explain, "But now I can move! Now I can get a better place..." Her response: "Yeah, I saw that on your blog. Your roof leaked five times...."

My blood ran cold. She's not on my side.

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