I went to visit my mom on Mother’s Day with my sister this year. To Bonnyville from Calgary is about 345 miles and takes about 5 hours by car. Instead of having a lovely time, it didn’t start out well.
My sister was unreasonable, and I was uncomfortable being with her. I was beginning to think this whole thing was a bad idea when we stopped in Red Deer, and she wanted to buy me some clothes at Value Village. Really?! I was a little insulted she’d offer me someone else’s hand me downs. I hate that store. In fact, I’d had FREE clothes that smelled and looked better than those rags hanging on dusty racks. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough for fear of sneezing so bad. UGH! She could’ve warned me but whatever. I was unimpressed, and I never want to do that again.
At this point, we were headed for a rough road trip. She can be so bossy sometimes AND acts the same way as I do when she doesn’t get her way: bored and unenthusiastic.
I wanted to listen to my audiobook of Landlines by Rainbow Rowell, but she doesn’t like to hear music including audiobooks when she’s driving. She had no qualms telling me how awful she thought the book was, though, so I popped my iPod on and listened to it myself quietly. Except she demanded that I paid her attention and pulled my earphones out like a petulant child and that is when I punched her on the side of her face.
I was in physical, mental and emotional pain for the rest of the weekend. My sister gave me a huge bruise on my arm. My anger had got the best of me. I know it wasn’t a nice thing to do, but I cried tears of remorse that I tried so hard to suppress. I just wanted her to turn the car around and take me home. We could’ve had an accident! I’m surprised she kept on going because she was shaken up too.
I still love my sister, but she wasn’t going to let ME blame her for anything or leave me on the side of the road that day. No, if it had ended in an accident it would’ve been all MY FAULT.
I tried to forget what happened because I didn’t want to upset my mom.
When my sister gave me some money, I immediately thought I’d use it to get back to Calgary, except I couldn’t keep a straight face, so I told her what I intended to do with it. I was going to take the first Greyhound bus back to Calgary, she was not OK with that idea and demanded I give her back the money. I gave it back, and I decided I never wanted anything from my family again, as stubborn as it sounds, not even my glasses that got broken; I wanted her to fix them.
In the mental and emotional state I was in, I felt like a hostage.
That was just the beginning. We still had to get back.
We never discussed much or talked to each other when we met up with our mother at the Hotel. Our fighting and arguing didn’t stop either.
So basically I’ve always known that I had anti-social tendencies. Why do you think I like hiding behind my computer? I also cannot handle too many troubling feelings because I turn psycho like the San Andreas fault. I’ve never felt comfortable around any of my family, and it must have to do with my psyche. Too many bad vibes ruined me, and I don’t want to revert to taking psychiatric medications again so I must stay away from people who either abuse me or give me the willies or stress me out too much. You know? I am not a masochist.
So I suppose my sculptor can take all the chips off the old block piece by piece for all the moments like this
In response to The Daily Post's writing prompt: "Immortalized in Stone." Your personal sculptor is carving a person, thing or event from the last year of your life. What’s the statue of and what makes it so significant?