This Southern Faggot's Blog

Botox brain
September 1, 2013, 5:03 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , ,

I’ve had this thing for 4 years now and I’ve all but abandoned it. Not actively abandoned it, but I just sort of drifted away. I think about TSF a lot (nearly every day, actually) and what it has been for me over these past years. It’s been incredibly helpful to have something to dump thoughts and emotions into, when I don’t have someone around to serve that purpose. I feel like it’s helped me work through a lot of things. I feel like I appreciate it more than I maybe appreciate many other things in my life. How was I able to abandon it so easily? What does that say about me? 

I went out to dinner with my dad and mother the other night and it was, as you already know, terrible. After two glasses of wine, she stumbled into the day spa next to the Thai place we were eating and demanded botox. My dad and I had to pull her out of the day spa and the entire drive home she cried and just kept repeating “I want to get botox”. Eventually she started sobbing more and yelled that she wanted botox because she felt ugly and this very moment, I felt sadder for her than I have felt for her, over these past 10 years of understanding that she is an alcoholic. My first reaction was to hate her. To hate her for making me feel any emotion towards her, other than disgust. But, that quickly went away and I didn’t hate her, but felt so, so incredibly sad for her I just wanted to hug her and tell her everything would be okay. 

Of course, the days of things possibly having a chance of becoming “okay” are long gone. My mother is so gone that I truly believe the only comfort she will ever feel again, is death. She isn’t able or willing to acknowledge her addition and she is married to a man who doesn’t know what to do, other than ignore everything. I hate that it has become this, but I can only see my mother as a burden on my father and I can’t help but to be excited for him, when I imagine a time without her. I don’t know how he feels about this, but I would have trouble imagine him being sad over her death. The quirky, fun loving, spontaneous, stoner California surfer girl he married died years ago. I have to wonder if my birth is what killed her, or if maybe it was a slow death that started with my birth. It possibly had nothing to do with me being born. Either way, I don’t really care. 

And that’s the end of another up-beat TSF post. It would be easy to say I want to write here more (again), but apparently it’s hard to me. I’ll try, I promise. That’s the best I can do. 


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