Icarus's blog: "Hurts to watch."

You ever notice there's no adult equivalent of sudden infant death syndrome

but there probably should be?

Food for thought.

I'm eating... 3 hours late, and I'm eating my bachelor's surprise (seasoned sardines and rice). It seriously cooks with about 2 seconds of involvement.

Why?

Why why ... therein the why...

I think my father just disowned me.

I fear many things in my life
things like "my condition is ruining my life and severing my ties with my loved ones".

True for today at least.

My dad opens my garage door (scares the ever living hell out of me because no call, no notice and ... uh I'm afraid of people).
I jokingly say "I'm calling the cops- I've asked that you not do that."

He stomps up to me with a box in his arms and flings it in my face

most people say this in hyperbole

as a turn of phrase

I had a cardboard box full of matter and therefor mass slammed into my face.

Not my vicinity

not my personal space

not within arm's reach.

Painfully thrust into the frontal region of my eyes, nose and upper jaw.

"It isn't all about you- y'know."

My father is red faced. Spittle is flying from the edges of his mouth, as I step back to see if my face is cut.

...

"what the fuck is all this?"

"I wouldn't have even had to have done this if you hadn't picked up your shit like we asked you to!"

... ... ... I know for a fact that the contents of the box presented so unceremoniously to me

was shit I told my parents to "throw away".

Not drive it to where I dwell, and pile it in with the half-occupied garage, half occupied living room and fully occupied guest-room
and contribute to the ever growing towers of misfit artifacts.

I didn't even address these facts as I thought more immdiately about that crack about the world revolving around me.
I almost stomped on his hood so I could yell at him more closely as he began pulling out of my driveway.

Now where did
THIS
crazy fuckery start?

before I get into where this crazy fuckery went.

Mother's day, a day of running around a day of wigging out, a day of preperation and breakdown.

I got there late (not the latest)
I left around the last.

I put my head down after lunch and tried to pretend I wasn't in a room full of people and that my stomach didn't hurt.

And I left stating "I'm not cleaning up because the last 6 things we've done, I was the only cousin/nephew/grandson

doing anything."

I felt pretty comfortable doing so too, because if I fucking hear about it, why didn't anyone else?

So I took off, made plans to watch a movie this afternoon and provided the full theatre schedule to my parents and ... played video games.

It was the only thing I could start that I could comfortably STOP at the moment they summoned.

I tried to evacuate my bowels in anticipation of running around the rest of the night, wasn't able to vommit and didn't feel that I could for a couple hours, so I was fairly comfortable with going to the movies.

They call, they're screwing around running errands for my grandmothers (don't ever volunteer, it is the errands of the damned).

And they ask about show times again
and I provide
and they ask me to pick up my granny's prescription at Dillons (there are 6 dillons here I was assuming the one closest to me. And wasn't even aware they HAD a Rx center.)

3:50

movie starts 4:15.

...

I can't even get across town in that amount of time without speeding.

Much less go into a parking lot, park, walk, find the drug counter, stand in line, pick up a prescription, get back in my car, take the Rx wherever the fuck it needs to go, AND get to the movies in the timeframe.

I state "I can't do that."

This

is apparently why I get a box shoved in my face, yelled at, and talked down to like some ungrateful child.

Next up we have the fact that my father wants me to pay $2200 for a new A/C unit in a house I will reap no profit from once it is sold.

...
He wants me to pay for a NEW A/C for an A/C that should've been replaced in the 90's.

For a house that
I am not selling.
He is selling.

this goes back to this weird indian giver ... open handed offer, fingers crossed history we've had.

A have asking a have not for payment, guilt, or favor.

I really appreciate it.

He tells me my college was a gift,
tells me to "not worry about rent, just save up and make your next move"
and the first time an expense comes up

...

Every fucking time.

And I have to make the point that he can't have me live here as a tax dodge and expect me to pay for everything.
Hell, I'm technically not even living here.
I technically have no residence.

Why would I pay for something that will not be mine?

I'm basically renting temperature comfort.

Now that may sound ungrateful

but really someone planning to make 30-40,000 $ on this house's sale, and you're not offering a fraction of it to me

I'll tell you what

why don't I just empty my bank account for all the money I've been saving the last year (3 years if you can't the 2 I was unemployable) never eating out, driving a duct tape SHIT HEAP, and just hand it straight over

especially after you encouraged me not to, and encouraged me to save up so I can MAKE A BETTER LIVING FOR MYSELF

Yeah...

Great idea.

Bankrupting me sure will get me out of this house SOONER with all that $0 I have to make a move.

So I'm pissed about this already because it came up yesterday, and I can't help but suspect its part of the problem today..

"house's take upkeep" ... yeah, and so do cars that you take in without my permission that get fucked up that no one will recoup and cost me $1700 that I DID NOT HAVE. This is actually YOUR property, you stand to have any gain in investing in it.

Oh

and I'm worried that since my dad's never had depression or a chronic pain problem (and as he's said himself) thinks I'm just pretending, or that my problems can just...
go away.

So I'm pissed about that too. And scared to death of it.

And it came crashing down on my head.

By the time I was screaming cusswords and calling bullshit, and even pointing out the impossibility of me picking up an Rx in the timeframe provided, he says "well we could've made the 4:45" which
"you didn't say JACK SHIT about that, you just made an executive decision, unecessarily drove across town and thought I WOULDN'T do it, I would've, I just said I COULDN'T in the time frame we discussed, and you made up your own damn mind about changing that as well, without talking to me!"

He tried to call bullshit

and then I really lost it.

I start jumping up and throwing rude gestures and screaming at the top of my lungs- my mother who's so afraid I'll be burned as a witch or that I'll
hurt someone
or that
I'll hurt myself.
has stepped out of the car and attempted to console me.

I'm still jumping and screaming.

"When have I NOT done what you asked me, when have I NOT done as I was told, when have I NOT helped out? I'm doing this shit EVERY FUCKING WEEKEND with you people- you think I LIKE leaving my house to get sick, you think I LIKE being afraid while I spend time with you, you think I LIKE my life? I'm fucking MISERABLE I fucking HATE MY LIFE, I am in a constant state of depression and unmanaged PAIN, and I do ALL this shit for YOU- I do everything I CAN, I'm sorry YOU don't think its ENOUGH"

... I saw my father's face when I said these things, because I had run back up to the car to scream at him

he was on the verge of tears

I honestly think he just realized that he had just told someone that is in constant anxiety, fear, pain, discomfort and misery

that he was selfish.

I wasn't done.
Because I am selfish.
I don't like eating out.
I don't like going out to movies
or other people's houses
or cafes
or go shopping
or go outside of my house

it is so selfish of me to have a biological fear response to that

and worry that in public I will shit my pants
go into a seizure induced by adrenaline or pass out from pain
and throw up all over those nice strangers that already hate me

I am so sorry that every time I leave the house
I'm worried someone's going to start hitting me
and I won't know who, and I won't know why.
Hitting me, or on worse days stabbing me.

I am so sorry that I am broken, and I am afraid, and that I need time to prepare, that I need special treatment, that I struggle to go to work, to buy food, and to walk my dog.

I am so sorry that I like some people enough to ask that they ENDURE this aspect of my hubris if they honestly want me to spend any time with them.

And I am sorry that there are some people I am willing to endure for, what little of it that I can.

Asking me to go on an errand, or to "hang out" is like asking a normal person to jump into a swarming river of highly poisonous and agitated spiders. Let me get my spider-proof suit on first.

I am sorry that my condition is an all consuming aspect of my life, and requires my full consideration and attention.

"Fuck you
fuck both of you"

I believe was my response to that as my mother pleading reached out to hold me.

Then I punched my sideview mirror so hard I felt it give.
I found out hours later that it did.
Hours of spasmatic interrupted breathing and a complete unwillingness to move.