Tuesday, February 5, 2008

Happy Birthday, I'm moving in!

Today (Feb. 4) was my mom's birthday. I picked a funny card out for her at Target a few days ago and planned to bring it to her today, but what I didn't know at the time was that I was also going to be bringing her a present - a bit of news also known as the your-almost-25-year-old-daughter-will-be-moving-back-into-your-home all wrapped up in a pretty little bow. I should really learn to plan my emotional breakdowns better...
It was late by the time I got out of my city council meeting - thrilling in a town of about 3,500 - let me tell you, but somebody has to do it. I went over there, gave her the card, side stepped around the issue for awhile, then miraculously managed to tell them my situation without crying for a whole minute and a half. It's weird having to tell your parents that you're in an abusive relationship and you need them to help you. It's like it's actually real now and there's no turning back. It's basically every woman's and parent's nightmare. The only thing that could have made it worse was if he actually punched me in the face or something. Perhaps if he had done that, there would be no question that it was abuse and I would have left long ago, saving myself months of emotional damage.
While my mom sort of knew a little bit about the situation, my dad had no clue and I think he was a little confused at first. I wonder what they talked about after I walked out the door of their house and headed home almost two hours later...
I told them to get one of the upstairs rooms ready for me - I like my sheets turned down and my mint on my pillow by 9 p.m., my eggs scrambled and fresh flowers in my presence at all times. Ha, I'm just glad my parents are right there for me to help me lug all my shit out of that house and into theirs, live through the at least three solid months I'll be at their house until my lease is up and my rental obligation is through and prevent the ex from hacking me to death with a machete...Oh, that probably wasn't a funny thing to joke about.
Anyway, I seem to feel better just talking about the whole situation. It feels just a little less hopeless, a little less like the world is going to end and a little more like I can go on with my life. Now, if I could only get this beginning-of-a-cold nasty feeling out of my throat before I leave for Cabo in TWO days! I may become addicted to Zycam.

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