Today was one of those days.
It started out really well. Free Molton Brown goodies at work (I honestly haven't been so excited at freebies in ages) and nothing too seriously complicated going email-wise.
Lucnhtime rolls around and I decided to get a burger from the van a minute or so away from my office. On the journey there and back, I got wolf-whistled at twice and a guy actually stopped his car to talk to me. Lunch was good. Cheeseburger whilst chatting to a colleague about life in general.
Throughout the course of the afternoon, things got a little worse. Colleague complaining that my sarcastic mocking is bullying rather than a sign of affection so I said if its a problem I just won't talk unless its work related. Headache starts to set in. Generally not feeling well. Little niggly work related issues. Trying to be helpful and ending up with more work for myself. Obviously I'll do it, its what I'm paid for but sometimes its a bit frustrating that I pick something up because no one else does and my repayment for that is to get given more work.
By the time I got home at about 5:45pm, I'm feeling truly horrible. Sick but not being sick. Parents arrive home at around the same time. I comment on how ill I feel. How i'm guessing it was the burger. No one really says anything. We go food shopping.
We go to Tescos, and I'm wandering around feeling like crap and trying to work out exactly what the hell I'm going to cook for dinner for the next month (because mother doesn't cook, it'd get in the way of her being-a-lazy-bitch time and we can't have that) and what ingredients I need to do that. I really want to go home, put my fingers down my throat (sorry for the graphics, but I'm better at being sick than feeling sick) and go to bed. Eventually, dad and I meet up and he asks what we're doing for dinner. Having told him already that I'm not feeling well, I'd have figured he'd understand that "I'm not really bothered" meant "I'm not really bothered about eating, because I feel like shit". So he wanders off and I carry on around the shop.
Several times I pass my mother, I see her and actively turn away and pretend to be engrossed in the combination of my iPod and whatever is on the shelves. I bump into dad again, who asks me (again) what we're doing for dinner. I said I thought he went off to find something before, and rather than simply saying "I thought you were doing it." he went off in a strop. Like a child. So again, I carry on weaving my way through the aisles.
We catch up a third time and he's brought something over for dinner and is awaiting my approval. For the second time I say "Yeah, thats fine, but I'm really not that bothered." This time, he throws the things down in the trolley and walks away saying "FINE, I'll sort something out myself then." and actually leaves the trolley in the middle of the aisle. At this point, I can't go anywhere because his stuff is there, so I move his trolley and struggle with mine to the end of the aisle, waiting until he comes back over. "You left your trolley there", I say when he comes back. His response to that is to walk away, barely even acknowledging that I was there.
By now, I've got everything I need and we're going to pay except mother has disappeared. What happens now is dad gets even more pissed off and tries to find her. I beat him to it and because she can see that he and I have had an argument of sorts, she decides to try and be nice to me. No thanks, pal. Even I'm smart enough to see through that. She starts to unpack things onto the checkout and I have to go and find dad. He's really furious at this point and so am I because with every passing second I feel more ill. I find him and yell "She's down there, happy as fucking larry like a little sheep that wandered off on its own. She really has no idea what this is like for me. None at all."
We make our way over to her and she asks if I'm okay. Let me be clear about something. If I'm angry about something, its obvious. There's no question, no subtlty to my anger. People 10 tills down can feel the atmosphere. I snap, "I'm absolutely fucking fine." So, if the look of thunder on my face isn't clear enough, the snappy comment should clarify it, no?
I guess not. She then says "Could you pass this to the lady..." and holds out her clubcard (For the non-UK readers, its a loyalty card - they give you money off etc). We're stood no more than 4 inches apart and she's more than capable of handing the card to the cashier. I reply "Can't you reach? If you just take a couple of steps forward you should be fine." I then get the obligatory "Right, fine. *mumbleweakattemptatguilttripwhichinolongerfallforbecauseshesjustnotthatfuckingclever*" I then snap (again - snappy cow aren't I?). "Its just that i'm going to be stood packing bags for the next 5 minutes so maybe you could do this bit". Another bugbear. She doesn't help packing. She just stands there on ceremony while dad and I do it.
The cashier smiled at me and said hi as I walked past, and I smiled and said hi too. Not her fault, so why be rude to her? Dad and I begin to pack the bags and we're barely talking. We then take the trolleys to the car while she pays and I inform him "She'll have the arse now" as mother isn't someone you can have grown up conversations with or who understands other peoples moods. He ignores me. My bad mood has pretty much disippated by now. I'm a vent-er. I snap for 5 minutes than I'm fine.
We get home. I grab about 5 of the bags, bring them into the kitchen and immediately run to the bathroom to be sick.
What would have been lovely would have been if one of them had said "Are you okay?" Nothing. Nada. Rien. After a few minutes, I surface looking decidedly green. Not a word. By now, the shopping has all been brought in and dad is sat on the sofa. I ask if he'll be ok to get his own dinner this evening. He says yes and I explain that I'm really not feeling well and not going to eat. He ignores me some more and reads his new computer magazine. I contemplated repeating myself. Wanted to say "Hey, hold on a second here. If you've had a shit day, or you're tired or ill, I ask whats wrong and if I can do anything to help. How about showing me the same courtesey?"
I didn't do that of course. I know better even if it does feel like a punch in the face. The thing is, more than being angry at them for not caring, I'm angry with myself for being upset that they don't care. I know the drill. It reads like such a cliche. Bad mother/daughter relationship. Only child being over-dramatic. Fuck, I wish I was. I wish my imagination was good enough to make this sort of shit up.
I don't like there being bad feeling between my father and I (really, he's the only immediate family I've got. The woman who gave birth to me lives here too, but to say "mother" in anything other than a totally sarcastic way would be an outlandish over-estimation of our relationship). That said, I'm not being unreasonable wishing for a bit of sympathy when I'm feeling unwell. I'm not asking anyone to go out of their way or wait on me hand and foot. A very simple "I hope you feel better" would be more than enough.
Still, at the end of the day, I'm powerless to change it and I'll be damned if I'm going to spend my whole night crying about it. I'm operating a new policy with regard to crying. 5 minutes maximum. Instead, i'm making use of the blog. Write it all down. After all, crying over it won't make it clean.
Although, what may help is not gong back to the burger van again...
