ever notice how some people are just hard to banish? they pop up in conversation, in correspondence, in life… they are never the people you want to show up again, but they are the masters at it.
bitch came to dinner tonight. not in the physical sense, but because we started talking about her. I’m not quite sure why we manage to resurrect her being whenever we sit together and talk for more than 5 minutes, but we always do. maybe it’s because we never sit to talk except during holidays. we reminisce, and it inevitably turns dark. I think that is because we have very little positive to talk about. we don’t connect anymore. we live parallel lives in the same house, but we don’t intersect much. days are generally spent avoiding any meaningful contact by being absorbed in our electronics. we don’t talk. the only time we ever do is if i sit to vent about things going on in my head… we have surface conversations about the dogs and the price of things, and the frustrations of being broke, but we don’t ever connect in a true, deep way. the only exception to that is the shared memories of traumas past. I wish it was different. I wish we still had some common ground to talk about that did not elicit a shudder response. well, maybe it only elicits a shudder response for L, while mom and I find some solace in knowing that the past sucked.
there’s rarely any happy memories of the past because, quite frankly, I doubt either of us have more than a handful. we talk about G, we talk about holidays, and birthdays, and K&T with the best of intentions at keeping it light. the laughs run out quick though. we find ourselves (unintentionally) reminiscing about a fight or a particularly difficult night. we try to make it light again, but then bitch pops into our awareness. L said she is generally not scared of me, except when I talk about my hate for bitch. that might be because I don’t hate anyone else to that degree. I could watch her die a slow and painful death, all the while smiling. I can empathize with and rationalize even the most brutal abuser’s actions, but not her’s. I know she had a difficult upbringing. I know she likely suffered a lot of abuse as a child. I know she is most likely paranoid schizophrenic… but I have no compassion for her.
she made our lives living hell. I will never forgive her for that. (I know forgiveness is for me, not her, but I’m just not at a place to accomplish that at this time).
maybe one day we will be able to again find happier thoughts to focus on. maybe one day we will stop dragging ghosts back to the dinner table. maybe one day we will be able to talk about something different, but I think we both need to process the past before that can happen. so instead we immerse ourselves in technology and television. we connect on the animals (or butt heads about them). we tiptoe around each other because the things that need to be said are too heavy to bear all at once. we censor most interactions, though I think that censoring is trapping both of us (all of us). maybe me being able to process some of the crap with De will make a difference. maybe it will be a step towards healing our family dynamics, and we can live as people who actually care about each other not just people who happen to live together… and maybe some day she will find a way to get through the past herself.