After much of the ranting and raving I’ve done, I found myself in a weird place.
I am holding on to the anger and frustration. I mean, I’m sure psychologically I’m all fucked up in the head over this and I especially shouldn’t be assigning my blame on anyone.
But, I DO blame that surgeon. And I will hold that against him forever. Please just don’t let me know his name. That is when it’s going to be very bad.
So yep. I’m bubbling inside there. Like an extended and suppressed PMS. I’m fine and dandy until something sets me off. It could be a big thing. It could be a little thing. People I like bug me. People I don’t like but I can tolerate suddenly grate on my nerve. People I really hate? You mean, aside from that nameless and faceless doctor? Well, thank god they don’t really exist anywhere near me right now.
Crouching Rage, Hidden PMS. Scary, but yeah…there it is.
A coworker brought in one of those new age-y book that describes your personality according to both your Chinese horoscope and your zodiac signs. She said a guy she went on a date with consulted the book and told her they weren’t compatible and therefore they couldn’t go out. No shit. You’re a loser and that lady is wonderful. Thank that book she didn’t have to go out with your sorry ass. But I digress.
With me being both Scorpio and a Dragon, the only keyword–and maybe one of the first words I read–that stood out was RUTHLESS.
Oh yeah. Don’t you get on my bad side. I mean, I’m pretty easy going and a happy go lucky girl until you piss me off. Fortunately, nobody has gone on the OakMonster’s Wrath List yet…
Wait. I lied. My ex-boyfriend had. And the asshole Greg Parker at Accelerated Learning Group.
So, yeah. Ruthless. That’s me.
At the same time, I feel the guilt.
I feel like I should be home, taking care of mom right now. My best friend in the world Joy told me bazillion times to leave everything and come home to be with my mom. I think I blogged about this before but it is not that easy for me to do. But I can’t just up and leave my life–not to mention my income–for months on end. I mean, seriously. I just can’t financially afford to up and leave.
My mom worries about me enough already, being the only one away from home and REALLY making my own life. If it’s the worst case, I never EVER want her to worry about me afterward either.
Fuck, I already cause her enough grief in her life. I don’t need to continue making her suffer like that later too.
I mean she already shakes her head at my big mouth and huge attitude. My “Americanized” ways. My refusal to carry a luxury brand anything and to conform with the materialistic Thai society. My happily weighing in at 100 lbs. when my mom thinks I’m too fat…Thai folks see 95 lbs. as ideal after all. Me and my big fat calves mom wants me to hide but I don’t and my giant ass I should be ashamed of but I don’t. My utter awkwardness with Thai manners and sense of appropriateness that seems to embarrass her to no end. Oh, and if she knows about this blog, she would fucking kill me, of course.
Pretty much being me is something my mom never gets used to. She has another idea in mind of how her daughter should be. I know of her vision and it breaks both of our hearts that I could never be that girl. You know, the dainty, pretty, proper sweet Thai girl. I think that is enough pain and damage I’ve caused mom, don’t you think?
For once maybe I am going to follow one of her orders since she has gotten sick:
Don’t you abandon your husband and your work for me. You guys can barely make it out there on your own. I’m already worried about me. Don’t make me worry about you too.
So, I’m going to stick with what I know she’d approve of for a change. I’m staying put until it’s time to come home. I’m running my family and making a home, even a messy one. Making a life the way I want it, the way she knows I always want to do.
It’s the least I can do right now. At least one thing she doesn’t have to worry about me.
So. Anger. And guilt.
And now I’m crying.
Did I not say it’s like PMS?
Yeah. There you go.