I came in from the kitchen and sat down facing my mum. I knew I was in for a tough few minutes. I knew that once again, any chance of talking civil to her is just a wish that will never be fulfilled.
A disjointed 'chatlog' of the conversation that proceeded below. I can't remember it word for word of course.
"What are we gonna do Neil?", she asked me, calmy.
"I don't know", I replied.
"Well, I've had enough. I just don't know what we're gonna do Neil. You're not happy here are you? I know you're not."
"I wan..."
"So maybe you should start looking for a flat or something"
"I wan't to be happy here"
"Neil, the bridges have been burnt", she began, raising her voice more, "and I don't know if I can build them again"
"Well I can"
"I don't even know if I want to"
"Wouldn't you like things to be better between us?", I asked.
"Why?"
"Because it'd be better?"
"For who?"
"For me and for you"
"You want me to try and make things better just so you feel a bit better? No, why should I"
"For me and you"
, I said, repeating myself as usual.
"If things were better between us, you'd be less frustrated and angry at me", I told her.
"Neil, i'm not frustrated. I'm not angry at you.", she said, with her voice still raising higher, "I'm hurt. For 19 years I've been there for you. I've give you everything you've wanted and I what have I got back? Nothing! So why should I try and make things better? If someone hurts me, I cut them out of my life."
"You've hurt me too"
"I don't need it. I don't want it"
"You've hurt me too"
"What? I've hurt you? And why do you think that is Neil? For the past four or five years, you've pulled away from me. You come in and go straight and go up those stairs to your room. And that's how it's always been. So over the years I've thought 'well fuck you' then and now i'm doing the same to you. And it doesn't feel nice does it Neil?"
"But I pulled away because of the depression. That's what depression does. It makes me, anyone, pull away."
"I KNOW that Neil. You think i'm so stupid. I know it does."
"So why does it sound like you're blaming me for having depression?"
"Oh NEIL!", she shouted, turning away from me to glare at the TV for a few seconds, before turning back.
"Here's an example. The other day, you saw me and Laura going to town didn't you? Now would it of hurt you to say 'hello mum'?"
"I did!"
"See, you didn't even do that"
I DID!", I said. "Why do you think Laura looked up and said 'oh there's Neil'? Because I did!"
A brief silence.
"Neil, you've got to realise that for the past four or five years, I've felt hurt over and over and over..."
"But depression does that"
"...and over again by you."
"But depression does that. And if feels like you're saying it's my fault for having depression."
"Yeah Neil", she said, sarcastically, folding her arms "I blame you for everything"
"Well you do. Because you don't think anything is your fault do you? You don't think that you could be wrong about anything you're saying"
"Like what?"
"About anything. You don't think there's the slight possibility that you are to blame for anything regarding me and you"
"What does it matter? What does it matter who is wrong? The fact remains that the bridges have been burnt."
"But you don't think any of it is your fault do you?"
"Alright Neil, alright. It's all my fault", she said, again, sarcastically, "now what? What does that do? What difference does that make?"
"No...", I sighed longingly
"Go on, what difference would that make?"
"Because I know it's not all my fault. I refuse to accept that everything is my fault and I know that some of it is yours too"
"Oh yeah Neil, it's all my fault", again, sarcastically, "I'm to blame for everything aren't I..."
"I didn't say it was all your fault"
"...because you're always right aren't you Neil"
"I didn't say it was all your fault"
"What?"
"I didn't say it was all your fault", I said for the third time, and possibly more.
"I said that some of it might be your fault. I admit that a lot of it is my fault, but I refuse to accept blame for everything"
"But it doesn't MATTER"
"But you're not willing are you? Willing to accept blame for anything?"
"About what!"
"About any of this. That there might be a small possiblity that you could be wrong.", I said, and she thought for a moment.
"No", she said. "Alright, you tell me how I've hurt you"
"Ok, well one example, since you mentioned it (remember, this isn't a full transcript) - When I got that phonecall saying Natalie had OD'ed."
"Yeah? And?"
"And you didn't do nothing to comfort me"
"What do you want me to say Neil?"
"It's not about saying anything, just, I dunno, showing a bit of compassion instead of saying 'oh if wants to die then she'll die'. It's not the best of things to say to someone who's just heard about news like that."
"What? I didn't lie."
"That's not the point. You showed no compassion. And that's how you are all the while."
"So? I'm happy with that."
"If you showed compassion, things would be better"
"For who? Me? I'm happy now. And I've been doing ok for the past fourty odd years."
"So you're admitting that you have no compassion?", I asked her. She thought for a second.
"Yeah", she said "Yeah. I don't see anything wrong with that."
"Well if you had compassion, things would be better between us"
"No. I don't think they would"
"If you just changed a little bit"
"Why should I? Why should I change for anyone? No! If people don't like the way I am then that's their problem. I don't have to change for anyone."
"Then I think you're worse off than most people. Because the majority of people have compassion."
"Well i'm in the minority", she said, proudly, "I don't follow everyone else. Why should I?"
"It's not about following everyone else. It's about simple care and compassion. That's not following everyone else, that's just, I dunno, normal. If everyone showed everyone else compassion the world would be a better place."
"Alright. So i'm weird. So?"
"So you're wrong"
"Why am I?"
"Because things would be better if you had compassion"
"I will never change for anyone. Not now. Not ever."
"Try"
Silence.
After an hour of this, I finally escaped to the confines of my room. My head felt so bad. Really, really bad. Like there was an incredible internal pressure on it. I felt mentally exhausted. I just wanted to give up. Just close my eyes and sleep forever. Those little 'conversations' make me feel so bad. They knock me back. They make me feel ill. Physically and mentally. I felt quite queasy for at least two hours after all of that and the only real release I got was when I went to bed at midnight, welcoming the unconcious state.
*long sigh*...
This morning, as I was walking down my stairs, my mum passed me. "Hiya", I said to her. She didn't say nothing back though. I walked down to the living room and made myself something to eat. Soon after, she came down. "Do you want tea?", I asked her, since I was making it. "Yeah", she replied.
I went to sit in the living room with my food, and she came in shortly afterwards and the discussion about the DLA resumed. It was much more civil than the 'discussion' last night and I found it so much easier to talk to her, since her voice was much more friendly. I think she had came to terms with the fact that I wasn't comfortable signing a DLA form when I wasn't entitled to it. Nothing was sorted, and she pressed me to sign it again, but I don't want to, even if it would give me more money and her more money. I realise that she is in need of more money to pay bills and stuff, but I don't want to do it if it's wrong. She berated me for that. The fact that I wouldn't do it because it was wrong. "Neil, there are millions of people on benefit. You think they're all entitled to it?"
"No, but why should I be one of those?"
She didn't reply. Nothing was solved, but I think she had come to terms with the fact that I wasn't going to sign the form.
I'll continue the rest of my day tomorrow, since once again, this entry is huge.
