I didn't sleep well last night.

Long story short because I hate thinking about something I feel like I have no control over:
I have no job, and it feels like no one will ever hire me. I have student loans to pay back on a monthly basis and there is no way to defer it. I can and did defer part but not all. I have talked through all of my options with multiple Sallie Mae reps and my only option is get a job, which, see above, or let my credit die before it's even had a chance to live. Not to mention my co-singer's which is my father which I have mixed feelings on. The normal part of me doesn't want to let that happen, and the vengeful, cold and uncaring side feels like it would be payback for leaving home and having me grow up with my crazy mother. Luckily, that normal part of me is winning because I don't want to be that other person. Not really.

After touching on that I don't even feel like talking about the good stuff. This bull shit really depresses me. Money has always been a problem for me. My mother has a gambling problem and spends money on this she shouldn't. I grew up hearing, "We don't have enough money and we are going to lose the house." She would set my brother and I down and show us our expenses as a family and say we needed to cut back. She would explain the numbers that couldn't change, like the mortgage, car insurance and others, then point out that internet was frivolous even though eventually internet was important for school. Keep in mind my brother and I were too young to get jobs to help, and the month I was 15 I was forced to go work at McDonald's; I've been working ever since. It's something I kinda hate, but understand having a job at 15 isn't really all that bad.

So, with this budgeting bullshit I pointed out to my mother how TV was obsolete and that with time you can find many thing on the internet to replace television; this was before Hulu and probably youtube, too, and even then I knew you could watch shows online if you tried. My mother being a TV addict said no to removing TV from our list of necessary expenses.

Now would be a good time to mention that I have a lot of things wrong with my brain; it doesn't work correctly. I have chemical imbalances, I have a section that isn't as developed as it should be, but another that's over developed. I could list the things I have been diagnosed with and what medications I've been on, but I honestly don't feel like tackling that today. I will leave it at this: I have a hand-washing thing. I HAVE TO was my hands or I feel like they progressively get dirtier and dirtier. I feel like those germs will get in my body and that I will be dirty for ever. So, I wash my hands a lot. Aside from medication I have tried ignoring it, thinking it out logically; nothing works. I live with it and deal with it. I tell you this to tell you that my mother brought up me using less water. She knew exactly what was wrong with me; tried getting me to stay on medicine for it, but noooo I need to use less water. I don't like admitting it, but then I didn't shower often, so if I switched washing my hands for regular showers I would use more water in the showers, most likely.

The other thing she tried pinning on me to make me feel bad (trust me, I know my mom, it was a "fixing through shame" situation.) was leaving lights on. During the day I tried my best not to use lights, but opening my curtains instead. I would do my best to turn things off when they weren't in use; I wasn't a saint about it, but I gave it a good effort for a kid. I used to have a crippling fear of the dark and I'm still not fond of it. However, unless I'm particularly spooked, I can move through a darkened room alone only fearing tripping on something real. Back then I needed a night light; I feared anything. So many parts of my house growing up had it's own monster to scare me. Under the bed, foot of my bed, side of my bed, the one little alcove that led out of my room, the stairs, the top corner of my mother's room, the window that looked into the back yard; the list goes on. All of these places scared me and the biggest bane of my existence was going up the stairs at night in any sort of semblance of darkness. I needed to leave a downstairs light on as I ascended into the darkness of the upstairs hall. I usually had every intention to get a flash light, turn on a light in the hall, then return downstairs and turn off anything downstairs, but most nights I couldn't bring myself to.

My mother used this against me, playing mind games. Mind games seemed to be her favorite things, screaming until she ran out of steam usually was her second favorite. She's one of two people that has made me so upset that on a normal day of health I have actually straight up vomited from the stress. (The other was an ex.)

Since this has evolved from me talking about Sallie Mae to me bitching about my mother, I also want to mention: I hate Atlantic City with a burning anger. As a child she would drag us there and gamble away the money she should have been using on that list mentioned before. It was boring and she would keep us there pretty late. She would give us money to go out on the board walk and shop at the mall there, or play games, but freak out if we were late meeting her because she was oh-so fucking scared someone had taken us. AC isn't really a place for children to be walking around alone. I remember one time that /i was so tired that I was sitting on the floor falling asleep. A security guard had to tell me not to sit on the floor (a crazy big no-no at AC is not sitting in a chair, which there are none in the lobby areas where we would wait during meet ups.) Actually, guards telling me and my brother not to sit on a ledge (a safe ledge to sit on mind you) or the floor (more understandable) happened nearly every time we were there. Anyway, this one time I was on the verge of tears because I was so tired, bored, and ready to be home in bed and my mom wanted to keep losing money. And yet she doesn't understand "Let me get to the next save point." at all. She's very impatient and selfish.

My oldest brother, Mike, has told her off and I think he is the one that loves her the most out of the three of us. Any attempt to calmly, forcefully, or even hint at pointing out something she could do to make her life better, or the lives of people around her go unheard. I think she blocks out memories. After I moved out she told me she was sorry for everything and it helped, but then she later called me crying and delusional asking me if she was a good mother. I didn't say no, but I didn't say yes. I told her that she tried her best, but she hurt me a lot. She needed to hear it. When I was little she would scream at us for everything, then later cry and apologize. She was so out of it that I had to lie, as a child, telling her she was the best mother ever. I used to say, "When God made me I picked to be your daughter." Which was bull shit; I never meant it for a second. Telling her "I love you" felt like a huge lie too. I didn't feel it. For a while I stopped saying it. It was near the end of high school that she put her foot down and made me start saying it again. I don't remember when I ever felt love for my mother, or even most of my family. I like most of my family, but loving them is just weird. I do know that I love my oldest brother, and my grandmother. Everyone else I don't know them well enough to feel anything.

Ten years ago I had thought that by now I'd be living somewhere with out any contact from anyone in my family; it was a goal of mine. I almost didn't even care if I was living a "good" life; I had just planned to cut off all contact.

I think I just realized the wording for how I feel about my mother's parenting. My mother's care for me was conditional, if she didn't feel like it it didn't happen. I was like a toy she got bored of quickly. As much as I hate admitting it, I know she loved me and tried her best, but her best wasn't good enough. Sure, I did have a rough over my head and she never hit us aside from spanking a looooong time ago. Her lies, her lack of reliability, the person she is makes her unfit to offer care for living things. My brother Mike and I talked about this a few years ago: my mother used to be okay, but she's gotten worse and worse in her heart and head. I want to say it's not her fault, but she could also stand to try harder. She and I have a lot of the same emotional and mental problems and I at least know children aren't little maids that need to clean up after you; they aren't mini adults. They can't handle all that craziness.

I can't honestly say I feel any better sharing this, because I've shared all this before, but I know I would have felt worse if I held it all in. I don't know if I can undo all the damage, the living in fear of punishment for not dusting after getting home from school, the ridicule for my tics I have no control over, the hatred she makes me feel. I used to be a sweet, happy, and loving child and when I think of me at six I cry and think "I am so sorry." And I don't know if I am apologizing for my mother's actions or my feelings. I just wish I could fix everything for that sweet little girl and save her from how I feel now as an adult.

Sorry for such a post, but I guess we can label this working on my goal of being happy. I don't know how to get over all of this, but maybe sharing will help me find an answer.