I really wish I can help my mom but I can’t. Nothing I can do will change anything. I feel so helpless but I still keep hurling myself at this situation, trying to fucking fix it, as if it is fixable. I’m dumb. I’m trying to make my mom care about stuff like gardening and dinner and small things like composting — like all stuff my dad cared about.
And then I get mad because I know she’s making it worse for herself by drinking every night. I used to think I had control over that too, but I don’t. I still take offense to it — because she still does it even though she knows I hate it. I know I shouldn’t take it personally, but I do. I need to stop. But she makes it so much worse for herself.
Some say alcohol is to numb pain, but I think it enhances it, and she does it so her emotions can run free. Today, I sat on the couch and cried. I know crying is important, so I just wanted to take a moment to cry, instead of pushing it back like I always do. I took a moment and struggled a little. I wanted to cry, but felt weird because I was on the verge of full-on sobbing but needed something to push me to break down. I think that may be alcohol for some people. I was holding myself back, mostly because I felt “What’s the point?”
I miss my dad so much, and the world without him is unbearable. I don’t even know what my family is, or who I am, or my mom. It seems so stupid and obvious to say that I wish he didn’t die. I would trade anything. And yet we still keep moving. It’s the only thing we can do. And it sucks. I just feel like nothing matters. I try to make things matter. I try to inject a little meaning into things. For me and for my mom — so we have some sort of purpose to live. Because right now there aren’t a lot of good reasons.