Dreading Home

I’ve been thinking a lot about going home lately, I think because it’s nearing the time we had originally planned to go. Last year at this time we were already pinching pennies and stuff. I don’t have it in me this year though, to pinch pennies so we can go to Oklahoma. As much as I enjoy the drive it’s just not worth it.

When I fell in love with my husband it never occurred to me to ask him to move to Oklahoma. It was an immediate “I’ll move to Connecticut.” It’s not the place I didn’t like, but my entire life I’ve wanted nothing more than to be far, far away from my family and everyone I knew there. I don’t fit in there, not even with my own family, especially not with my own family. My views and ideas are so different from their conservative christian views and ideas. My mom lives in this fantasy world where she’s like the coolest thing ever and men are stupid. My dad thinks he’s some kind of genius but I can guarantee you he’d score below average on any IQ test.

I’m just not comfortable with the rest of my family anymore either.

I guess too, I’m resentful. I resent the fact that thanks to the evil step-mom I was treated like I was five until I turned 18, then I was treated like I was 12. I resent the fact that everyone always talked behind my back and they were practically taking bets on how long my marriage would last. Instead of saying to my face they thought this was a bad idea they just went along with it and faked like they were happy with it. I’m resentful that I was forced to get married in a christian church when I specifically stated that we wanted a justice of the peace. It bothers me that their wants were always put before mine. My mom still begs me to move back to Oklahoma to this day.

I still don’t feel like they hear me. I tell them things and they don’t hear me, especially my dad, he still talks to me like I’m a christian, even though I told him I’m an athiest, it’s like he didn’t believe me, or didn’t really think I’d stick to that, like it was a fad or something. A stage of rebellion.

Not to mention the fact that my dad doesn’t bathe. I was embarrassed to be seen in public with him. He smelled of B.O and his vehicle smelled like a garbage dump, I wanted to vomit.

Then there’s the whole thing with my evil step-mother and my brother. I honestly don’t want to see my brother, I’ve thought this through extensively and I don’t want to see him, not right now. Not that I would turn him away if he wanted to see me but I’d rather wait until he’s older. I don’t want to see him because I know he’ll say something about sissy to his mom and she’ll know I’m in town. I KNOW she’ll want to see me and I do not ever want to see her face again, ever. She’s a sick fuck and I hate her. I hated her when I left and I hate her even more after the falling out when she came up here to visit. Little Miss I can do no wrong, my son can destroy your house and terrorize your cats if he wants can go fuck herself. Calling me mentally sick for getting upset over him crunching cheeto’s on the floor, spilling chocolate milk on my chairs, chasing cats and tearing light switches off the wall. Grr, man, fuck her.

I don’t want to go there because of the memories. I don’t want to see my dad because he smells like ass. It’s not that I don’t love my family. I like my dad via e-mail, he’s alright, I’m bitter over a lot of things but I can forgive. I enjoyed when my mom came up here and stuff, we got along okay although she was hard to entertain because she wouldn’t tell me what she wanted to do.

I’d be devastated if this ever got back to anyone in my family and that tempts me to put this entry on private but in a way I feel like putting things on private is a cop out. I’ve never been afraid of what people think of me because it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything if Susie in California thinks I’m a bitch and Ed in Alaska thinks I’m a moron. Although it doesn’t seem it in person, I’m a pretty confident person on the inside. So therefore I’ll not put this on private.