Can’t believe how much trouble I am in right now. It started on Friday morning when they found me doing sit ups in my bed. I tried to deny it but they had seen me so there was no arguing. They weren’t going to even allow me home this weekend as planned but then of course mom went all ‘psycho mom’ on my specialist. Didn’t really care.
In the end, being in hospital, or whatever this facility calls itself is better than being at home where the tension is so thick you need fog light just to navigate safely through conversations. Mom is manic. Smiling too brightly and trying too hard not to make a fuss about eating or going for a walk. She even avoided the shopping mall so I wouldn’t have to see store mannequins or whatever she tells herself. And the crying… Like I said, mom is just displaying complete psychotic behavior. She dropped a cup of tea and completely came undone. There was the crying while doing my laundry. I also heard her laying on the bed crying this morning. It is starting to grate on my nerves. I’m angry all the time now.
My teacher came round for tea this morning after church to go through my coursework with me and collect any assignments I may have completed. I haven’t. Apparently, I need to focus on my coursework and get an early start even though I’m not attending classes. I tell her I’m writing in this journal and she nods and agrees journaling can be therapeutic. Then she starts again and I zone out by looking out the window and imagining I’m a little brown bird. I guess she said she will come visit me here in hospital one or two afternoons during the week because I heard dad agree that it’s a brilliant idea and then … yes. What was I going to say?
Mom stayed home with Jack. Dad brought me back. Grandma brought me a few books to read and expensive bottles of hand and body lotion. It seems grandma and mom have been at it again because they barely said a word to one another all day. No one seems to know how to be around me. Not even Jack who has started whispering anything he wants to say into my parent’s ears instead of just shouting out loud like usual.
Dad says; I shouldn’t be so hard on mom. This illness isn’t easy for her to deal with. It’s not easy for anyone. I asked him if that’s his way of saying this is all my fault and I should just be giving everyone a break? He sighed tiredly and said, I was being difficult. I guess I am being a bitch especially after my retort, “Are you sure mom is crying because I’m anorexic and not because you’re fucking the busty brunette from work?” Dad turned a crimson shade as I slipped from the confines of the car.