things I’ll always think about

Because of Mother’s Day and because of my suspected, impending mental illness, I have some things to spew off. Just stuff I’ve always thought about, and new information. Parental-related.

When I was younger, my dad and I were talking about he and my mother’s divorce. I’ve always gotten two sides of the story (one unchanging and the other not so much), and it was always interesting to hear the stories without any bitterness and anger. 

We were driving around like we always used to do; he’d drive all over the Lower Mainland looking for a little adventure for us. Before I looked out the window to hide any falling tears, my dad told me, “I would’ve stayed with your mom forever.” Even writing it down makes me sad, and it will always stay in my mind as one of the time’s my father truly made me upset with how unfortunate his life has been. My half-sister doesn’t understand that part about him, but one day maybe she’ll understand.

My mom and I have almost always gotten along wonderfully, and up until a few (now more like a “bunch of”) years ago, I was her best friend. She doesn’t have many friends so that’s not saying a lot, but it’s still an important part of a woman’s life when she’s best friend’s with her mother, and when something changes that and your mom lets it happen, there’s a trust that breaks and might not ever be repaired. The last time I saw her, a few months ago, she came out to Vancouver and we had all-you-can-eat Indian buffet, a favourite restaurant of me and my sweetheart. After eating, we chatted like old friends or sisters do before heading back to my place to chat some more. We started on the topic of our mental health, and how I haven’t been doing so well lately. My mother is bipolar, so she’s the person who knows intimately all the feelings I always experience (except I imagine hers to be far worse-feeling, as I feel like I’m doing well in comparison considering I’m not addicted to hard drugs or in a negative relationship). Let me type that again. My mother is bipolar, and I strongly believe that genetics play an incredibly important part in how someone is formed into a thinking, living human being. I’ve always expected to be bipolar. My entire life, I’ve been dreading the day when I finally have to become another medicated drone, because if I’m not then I’ll be miserable forever. So far, I’ve been able to cope with being quite miserable near-constantly, since I’m trying to figure out what, exactly, is wrong (It is bipolar or do I just experience S.A.D.? Does my weed-smoking have anything to do with it? What if it’s just intense PMS? And maybe all that acid I did affected my brain like my mom always thought it would affect hers had she ever taken it?). I told my mom that I was doing alright, and I was really hoping that these terrible feelings would go away, and I will remember the next moment forever. She smiled at me, standing in the doorway of my living room, and said, “It never goes away.” If my dad broke my heart by saying that he would’ve stayed with my mom forever had she not ended it, then my mom broke it again with those words.

"It never goes away."

Such disappointment. I figured I could avoid it, or hold out until I grew up and my “teen angst” faded away. Forever, I get to feel like this. I HAVE to feel like this. And when I tell people these things (like my best friend in the whole world, for example. Thanks a lot, by the way), they say, “Get over it. What are you anxious about? Why are you sad?” I’m anxious and sad about everything. About breathing and being alive. I try to breath calmly and think happy thoughts but my brain doesn’t want to do those things. It wants me to be upset and on edge. If it didn’t, why would it be so hard to make that feeling go away?

Well, good news, your mom says it doesn’t go away. Hooray. You just gotta deal.

My parents are people and I’ve always understood that. They’re not some mystical creatures that do no wrong and are nice, picture-perfect people. They both can be cruel, and they both can be fun. They’re both creative, and they can both be closed-minded despite their open-minds. They’ve done things that are wrong, wrong, wrong, but they’re people, and how would they know any better? I only know that they did things incorrectly because I’m looking back at them from a very intelligent and mature standpoint (I flatter myself). They were figuring stuff out, just like I am every day. Parents don’t know anything, but if my kid ever reads this I’m just going to say that parents don’t know anything, but I know everything so don’t you dare disobey me (love you, future child. Hopefully a boy). Parents are people, they don’t necessarily know if what their doing is right or wrong, they just do whatever and hope for the best.

Saying all of that, I appreciate my parents for everything they’ve done for me. For their undying love even though I probably don’t deserve it. For giving me money and refusing me money, both when I needed it and when I didn’t. I know now that how my mom raised me was wrong, but I can’t imagine being anyone else besides me: the realist, the cynic, the animal-lover, the misogynist (that part’s from my dad, I think), the Indian, the leftie, the most stubborn kid ever (also from my dad). Without both my parents, I’d be an empty shell of a person, and that sounds much much worse than just being miserable all the time. I’d rather feel all my feelings than none at all.

And, without my half-Indian mother, I’d just be another whitey. Sorry, whitey’s, I love you, but thank God I have some colour. I’d die if I were see-though like some of you.

Also, white people might be the most hated of all the people, and that sure sucks. What did they ever do to you, coloured people? Oh, right. All that stuff…

It’s late, and I’ve made this a lot longer than I wanted it.

I might go visit that best friend I mentioned tomorrow, at his new place. I might sleep in and not, because his internet doesn’t work yet and I’d have to call him and I hate talking on the phone. Although, since it’s just him, I can maybe deal with a phone call. But I also have SO MUCH TO DO that I shouldn’t be making time for friends.

If we wanna get our lives together and start a webseries, hanging out is the first step, though.