i don't feel like i know how to write about this constant shit that goes on in my family anymore. like i maybe feel like i'm spilling too much, that i don't want this to be a big fat feel sorry for me party or something, that i don't want people to think i hate my family or something. but i know some people do come here for the latest, to see how i(we're?) doing. and for those people...

since the huge blowup between my mom and i she's been ultra paranoid that everything i say, do, think is a cut against her, that i hate her guts or something. not true. i'm just completely fed up with her inability to deal with ANYTHING by herself as a parent. i'm completely over her constant need for a boyfriend because she's oh so alone when she's got all her kids around who obviously aren't good enough companions.

i always feel like when i'm writing this stuff "holy crap steph you are such a damn selfish jerk". don't get me wrong - i get that she needs other adult company. but to basically guilt your kids with how you're stuck taking care of them when the divorce is over. to not realize your kids can hear when you tell your friends how you didn't sign on to raise the adopted twins yourself. i wish she could see past that little bubble of "i need everyone to take care of me" one-track mindedness and realize what she's doing.

i called the house last night to see how everyone was doing. kind of annoyed starting off because i called sunday afternoon and no answer. left a message and no one called back. called when i got home monday night, same fuckin thing. called again a couple of hours later and oh there she is. i know this game. it's called "i don't wanna have to pay the long distance bill so i'm pushin it off on my filthy rich daughter." (you should read filthy rich with much sarcasm.) i tried again to just keep things light with her, made a few jokes, talked about things that have been going on. and apparently she took all those things to mean i have a huge problem with her. i do, but i never let it out right now because i feel like if i start telling her what i'm really thinking i'm not going to be able to control it, i'm just going to keep screaming.

she grudgingly tells me about brittanie when i ask because she knows i'm gonna be upset.

how she's started scratching herself with sewing needles. and my mother has "done all she can do", basically saying she's not doing anything else. "well, it really sounds like maybe she needs to talk to someone" i tell her, and she jumps on my shit telling me she's trying everything, brittanie doesn't want counselling and she can't make her go if she's not ready to handle it. she tells me bill's bringing over this stuff that should take care of the scarring so it's not permanent. and she tells me to tell b to scratch the word she wrote on her knuckles out with an emery board. yeah gross. i'm not gonna tell my little sister, who's starting down the self-destructive road, to do something like that. it's my little sister for fucks sake.

so i talk to brittanie. and talk. and talk. and talk. and i don't know if i got through. hopefully at least some of it sank in. we talked about how she's grounded all the time, the things she's doing to herself, how she doesn't really get why everyone's coming down on her for having the relationship she's having with her boyfriend, and therapy and how it could be a really good thing, how it could help her understand why she's so confused and how to deal with it and stop hurting herself. she was kinda worried they'd maybe do something like send her to the looney bin, because she feels like she's going crazy and she's worried because she felt completely disconnected when she was doing this to herself. we talked about everything for a really long time. and when we went to hang up it was agreed that she'd go talk to mom about getting some kind of counselling.

here's hoping she gets the help she needs and this scary shit will stop. also, all i want for christmas is no more fucking family drama because the shit gets old. the end.