Why can't I get myself to write? Why can't I get myself to have anything to say. In my head I am talking almost nonstop to myself, to the other. It's Saturday night and I guess I wish I had someone to talk to, I'm in an awful way. Not really awful; just melancholy. The house is so so quiet-I love it when it's like this, it feeds my sadness. Once again I am not connecting to my almost teen-she is very angry with me because I called her out on bad behaviour. I didn't side with her. I get where she is coming from but I do need to support the other adult in the house on her being rude. Rudeness is one thing I absolutley cannot tolerate in my home. And just over simple things, "why did you do that with asking" kinds of things that with her these days lead to "whatever" rolling of the eyes and worse. Makes my blood boil. I would have been killed by my parents if I talked to them that way! I am thinking that I am a total cliche now-saying those things, feeling these things-like I can't get my teen to like me-how far we fall for our children to like and value and respect us.
That what it is-I really don't think she respects me. Maybe she thinks R walks all over me, maybe she doesn't trust him, maybe she thinks I should have a job, a career. Maybe she thinks I should be more interested in television and technology. Maybe she's jealous of the little one because she's still so goddamn adorable. Maybe she hates this family-its chaos and loudness and smallness. Maybe she thinks I am angry and depressed and that I hate my life and she wants nothing to do with my life. Maybe she's right.
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