So as I mentioned in previous posts, I have been thinking back to the LA concerts, and my wonderful time. So I went back and read the post I made. Good lord I was excited!
I am not feeling well today, my tummy is yucky, and my knee hurts so much I took my prescription anti-inflammatory. I hate taking those things, because they make my tummy yucky, hence the tummy issues right now. So I thought I would put my feet up and just sort of read stuff that would make me laugh/giggle/feel good!
Then of course I get a phone call from my mom, who has been laid off from her job at the IRS, and last week had foot surgery. Sigh. I wish she would fucking learn how to tell other people to leave her alone. I have a hard time talking on the phone with her anymore because it is always that same damn thing: Whoa is me, everyone is out to get me, I am the martyr, koo, koo, kachoo. It gets old quick.
Did I mention that mom and dad are both bipolar? They I think, are not properly medicated, and what's worse is that even though I have said as much to them and suggested they look into adding meds to their daily regimen, they will not. Talk about sticking you head in the fucking sand, and expecting to be cured. Just doesn't work that way.
Apparently my dad is being an ass and is "only concerned about my mom having a job so they can make decent money. It's all about the money."
Um, no. He is concerned because at some point down the road, you will have a cow and tell him it was all his fault that you no longer have a job. You will tell him the same thing you have been telling him for years:
"It's your fault we are poor, you don't make enough money, you hate me, I hate you, we should just get fucking divorced." They are not what I call poor. They have made some bad decisions about money, and are now paying those things off. Not poor, but things are not exactly cushy either.
I cannot tell you how many times I have heard that from her. It isn't true. My dad, wisely or not, has worked for the same place for 40 some odd years. He does not have a degree. He is now too old to start over somewhere else. What's more, he hates his job, but he never quit. He works a job he can't stand, to earn money so that they can live. She doesn't get it.
In her world, it is always about her. Always.
I finally told her today, that if he was harping about her calling to make sure she still had a position lined up for when they get called back, that she should tell him to "just back the fuck off."
Yep those exact words.
I then put an even finer point on it, by telling her that if she didn't speak up, they would get into a fight, because she is cooped up and can't go anywhere which is frustrating, and because she won't tell him just to shut his pie hole.
Communication people. If you don't communicate, you will not be happy. I think it is pretty fucking sad that I have to tell my parents this. Repeatedly.
I am beginning to worry that my mom may be going senile. She has such grandiose ideas, and she is so paranoid. Of course those are the major calling cards for bipolar as well. Bipolar that is not properly treated.
God I hope she gets her job back, so I don't have to field these frustratingly maddening phone calls from someone on the edge of sanity.