My Weekend In Hell

I spent the weekend with my family, and I have to say that when the inevitable process of life is concluded for them, I will breathe the biggest fucking sigh of relief there ever was.  Perhaps family is important for people who have had love and support, but I wouldn't know.  I am sick of that obligation and I wish it would end.  I spend every other weekend at my mothers' house because I live 4 hours away from my son and she is only 10 minutes from my son.  I pick him up, leave my daughter with her dad, and spend the weekend at her house.  Its nice that she lets us do that, but spending time with mom and sf is torture for me.

I am very different from my mom, and she likes to create drama.  She truly believes she has the biggest cross to bear in the world and no one else has any problems.  She also "has no time for anything", "has so much work to do" and chain smokes.  She is the most stressed out and worryful person I've ever met.  My sf is a seriously obese 75 year old with insulin dependant diabetes.  He is also on dialysis, had a quadruple bipass last summer, almost had his pancreas explode, has a fake eye, and every last thing wrong could have been prevented through a proper diet.  He drowns everything in gravy, eats only high fats and sugars, and is in complete denial about his health issues.  His idea of managing his diabetes is to use extra insulin after eating half a box of doughnuts.

Saturday evening involved going for a van ride with my mom, step father, boyfriend and son to a town about 20 km away.  We went to a diner that mom and sf frequents and ate burgers that Steve makes really well (or so we were told about 10 times), during which they had to say hi to several other older people who also have made this diner their second home.  After dinner, I went outside for a smoke and was forced into conversation with several other old people.  I listened to mom talk to some guy who thinks that poor people are garbage, and a weird man who felt it necessary to go on endlessly about the length of my sons' hair.

Finally we got into the van to go.  Sf wanted to drive down to the pier, so we went.  Biff, my son and myself walked end to end while mom and sf waited in the car to watch the fish jump.  Why this had to happen I do not know, but finally it was time to go.  On the way out of own, they saw people they knew walking down the street, so we had to drive around the block and park so that we could say hi and have more unnecessary awkward conversing.  We drove back the their town, and stopped for milk and cereal.  Only my mom went into the store, so we got to listen to sf talk about "Crazy Tony" who brings in the fucking carts.  Mom took 20 minutes, because she saw someone she knew in the store and had to talk to them.

This ordeal took hours.  Hours of my life I would have wasted, sure, but hours I can never get back.  Biff and I are very anti social and have little tolerance for the bullshit games that others feel the need to play, and this is almost unbearable for us.  This type of experience happens to us every single fucking time we go there, though, and it never gets any better.  The visits only go smoothly if we just agree with everything they say and pretend to be people we are not.  My sf is homophobic, racist, and likes to complain about the guy across the street who must be dealing drugs because of the traffic through there...though they also have heavy visitor traffic, but they would never make this connection.  I am a pot head, who uses marijuana frequently to help my moods and settle my thoughts.  They love to talk about the "crazy" person they know who is Bi Polar and wanted to be a cop but couldn't because of his illness, yet only 2 years ago I sat at their kitchen table and told them that I am Bi Polar and what it meant and how it related to me, but its like it never happened.  My best friend had dinner there, and they have known her for years.  The are very well aware that she is a lesbian and I have explained to them that this isn't something chose - this is who she is.  Still, sf just had to tell her that she would make some guy a really good wife.  Sometimes I chew up my tongue and just nod and go along with whatever uneducated garbage they spew.  They are opinionated about everything but are frighteningly out of touch with the real world that I live in.

They know so many friends, acquaintances, and relatives its impossible to keep track.  If the phone rings they will both run to get the phone and always talk to the person together.  I know I can't call my mom without having sf on the other end, too.  Sometimes they will thrust the phone at me or Biff and say "Its Vern!" (Or Bob or Horace or Chester- always some old guy we don't know very well) and we'll be forced to exchange lame and stilted words for absolutely no reason.

On Saturday, after going through the ordeal which makes up breakfast and spending time with my son, I laid down to take a little nap.  I woke up really groggy, walked through the house, went downstairs and was confronted by 2 barking tiny little dogs, people talking in the furnace room and when I looked into the rec room I saw a little blond girl laying on the floor colouring. Overwhelmed and swearing under my breath, I grabbed a can of coke, went back upstairs, and walked outside to drink it on the deck while I figured out what the fuck was going on.  I opened the door and ran smack into a 6 ft. tall mildly retarded man (who was grinning at me in that semi-sweet mildly retarded way) whom I've never seen before in my life, my sf sitting on the deck steps, and my older quadriplegic cousin in his wheelchair.  Seriously...you just can't even make this shit up.

I went to the far away corner of the large deck, sat in a chair and had a cancer stick while drinking my coke and feeling really confused.  Turns out Quads came to see his wife, who was helping my mom pack things in the furnace room, and the dogs and little girl were hers.  The retarded man remains a mystery.  According to my sf, he is a thief but doesn't steal from his friends, and he doesn't steal from his dads' friends.  I have no clue what this means.

As I mentioned before, they are moving.  On Sunday my cousin came to help them clean out the garage.  All this moving traffic, and I didn't pack one box.  Neither did Biff.  But no one asked and the purpose of this visit was to visit my son, so we didn't offer.  Biff and I can't help but wonder if they tell people "Cousin took time off from his 4 jobs and drove allll the way down here to help us pack, but they didn't lift one finger...".  They don't know the stresses we have been under.  They don't know about the significant lack of money, the stresses with my daughter, or my mental health issues.  We can't tell them, and I don't really think they care.  They also have no clue about how visiting them takes every last bit of energy the two of us has and how their every day way of life threatens both of our already unstable mental status'.

The only good thing about all of this is that both my children will be with their father the next time (in two weeks) to attend a wedding, so it will be four weeks before this happens again.  This has been going on every other weekend for the last 3+ years, and I can't stand it anymore.

However, my mom is 70.  He is 75.  Massive strokes have killed two of her sisters already, and like I said, she is a chain smoking stress case and he has one foot in the grave already.  When they pass away, I will pretend that I am sufficiently sad and be the dutiful daughter and see their pre arranged funerals through to the end.  In my secret heart of hearts, I will remember the few good times we have shared and be utterly relieved that they are gone.

I can't wait.