(no subject)

[felicula]

Okay... so I thought there was only 7-9 inches of snow out there. I set Aidan loose in the back yard and started to shovel the driveway. Usually I just keep going until the driveway, sidewalk, and a path into the backyard (for the landlady who fills the birdfeeder every day.) I didn't even make it down to the sidewalk. My back and arms became uncooperative.

Sodden.

I think that's the best word I have to describe that mess of white in the driveway. in places it was as shallow as three inches deep where the car had levelled it on its way out of the driveway. On the other hand, it was up to a foot deep in other parts of the driveway. My usual technique of becoming something of a human snowplow, systematically pushing the snow to one side and off the driveway was inneffectual. I resorted to prying up bits of the compacted layers bit by bit, inching down the driveway.

UGH

Last weekend was great for the most part. I got to host something of a gathering on Friday. I got to attend a friend's going-away party, run into several other friends in the midst of a LARP, and make it out to the Continental on Saturday. Sunday brought a family breakfast with my parents, lunch at Red Lobster with mechanchaos, a visit to a friend's apartment, family lasagna dinner, and crashing another LARP to visit more friends. And yet, I'd been somewhat melancholy since then.

I remembered something while I was out there shovelling. It's striking how strongly denial works to blot things from my mind. The missing fragment was Saturday night after being dropped off at my parents' house.

I knew something was wrong by the way my mom jumped and stumbled, startled by my arrival. Her body moved as if the world was moving for her. She was much more huggy than usual and repeated the same things over again as if she hadn't already said them. By the time she stumbled again I knew she was inebriated. My dad was as well.

It was the first time I'd ever, EVER seen my mom stumbling drunk.

My dad... well, I'd been proud of him for staying off the bottle as long as he had into his treatment for prostate cancer. Now... Well, he's still my dad, still my alcoholic dad.

But... MY MOM.

It upset me in ways I still haven't fully come to grips with. In all this, my mom was always a point of stability, even when she was hurting and upset. I've seen her go through so much bullshit without losing herself in it. She was always the one I could go to, knowing that she'd remember what I said in the morning. I could talk to her about my feelings about my dad.

That the denial has been so strong is almost overwhelming.

When mechanchaos arrived, I tried to nonverbally communicate that I needed to get out of there, with the idea of meeting up with friends at the Continental as a handrail I was reaching for. I wasn't communicating very effectively though. I didn't want my folks to go from giddy-drunk to angry-drunk by my pointing out explicitly that they were intoxicated. So, my parents talked our ears off, and kept on saying they ought to go to bed while making no motions to make good on the suggestion.

Eventually, we left. I made the mistake of agreeing to drive. Before we were even out of the driveway, I was wishing for windshield wipers that could clear my tears. My dad, I can somewhat understand, or at least rationalize. It's just so incongruous to have witnessed my mom like that. She kept hugging me and implored in a whisper for me to forgive her. Over and over. "Forgive me. Please forgive me."

I want to scream. I want to curl up in a corner and cry like an orphan. I want to understand. I want to fix my broken brain. I want to come face to face with the many reasons that I am so unnerved by this. But... I want to let denial wash the memories away, leaving my weekend unmarred. That won't get me anywhere positive, though.

Comments

[phoenixsong]

*hugtighttighttight*

All the more reason for me to come visit tomorrow.

[blackfelicula.livejournal.com]

***hugs lots and agrees wholeheartedly***