November 28, 2014
This morning got off to a rocky start. I was up far too late last night, partly because I was obsessing on Call of Duty: Ghosts and partly because I was enduring an itchy fit. I turned off my alarm when I went to sleep, planning to sleep until I awoke naturally or the morning activity at my sister's woke me. Unfortunately, I woke with a throbbing headache and lay there for a couple hours with my eyes closed, hoping it would fade. As a result, I unintentionally eavesdropped on my father talking with my bastard brother-in-law. Essentially, in an attempt to tell a good story, my father was talking shit about me. He was making up shit so he could pour out a bowel-spilling load of his anecdotes. From having heard most of his stories multiple times, I knew that particulars often drifted a bit and I patiently let it slide, figuring its just a sign of his memory slipping. Having heard what he said today, it quite literally makes everything he says as suspect, especially some of the more lurid stories that he has told me about my mother. (Which I routinely have to file under "Shit I Really Did Not Need to Know". ) I also know for a fact that he is painting a picture of their relationship through rose-colored glasses to make it seem better than it was as well as make his behavior towards her seem less disgraceful. While he has never really opened up to me about things, my mother frequently did. Even she saw me as someone easy to open up to and took me into her confidence, telling me about many of the things that had occurred between them. She had been quite unhappy with him for years, and I know for a fact that she had nearly left him when I finished high school. I mean...who wants to be with someone that is openly disdainful of you, emotionally abusive and felt that any ball game on TV was preferable to spending time with you? As my father, I love and respect my father, but as a man, I cannot express what I feel about him without resorting to an hour long stream of expletives. He would not be someone I would trust or care to have dealing with. He may be a charming bastard when he wants to be, but he is definitely the second word in that description.
Anyways, the ride home with him was relatively quiet. I made him drive because my I was damnably light sensitive even while wearing my sunglasses. I alternated between keeping my eyes closed or staying focused on the dimmer portions of the vehicle's cabin. Fortunately, once I got some calories in me and my meds kicked in, I was feeling relatively human by the time I got home. While he plopped down in his easy chair in front of the TV (For a ball game of course), I unloaded the car, tended to the feeding of the birds and deer, tidied the kitchen somewhat, and dealt with the cat box in the laundry room. Happily, I did not have to deal with any kitty "presents" anywhere in the house, but their enforced containment had them rushing to spend several hours outside even with the chill in the air. Once I was done with everything, I retired to my room, puttered around a bit, watched some TV and muddled with the internet. It was a quiet evening but as it has progressed, I can feel my mood sliding a bit. Partly, I let my mind wander in directions that I should not allow plus the realization that my least favorite season of the year is upon us.
As I said on Twitter, my mood is going to be shit until March because of it. There are times that like a bear, I wish I could hibernate until it has passed. Far too many negative things have happened to me in December, January, and February that I do not care to remember, it feels like running a gantlet barefoot across a blanket of broken glass with an angry swarm of Japanese Giant Hornets pursuing me. I doubt that there will ever be anything that changes my attitude towards this "holiday season"...at least not in this lifetime.