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samtheflamingomain · 3 years

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sometimes

Sometimes, it's been a while since I thought about the day I got kicked out. Sometimes I miss my parents even though I shouldn't.

Quick recap: Feb 10, 2018. I sneak upstairs to steal my parents' weed while my dad is asleep and my mother is visiting family up north.

I honestly don't know what possessed me that night. I've never snooped on anyone's phone before. But his was right there, next to the weed, charging. I opened it.

He didn't have a password and the last app he used was text. To text his mistress. A fucking bible-thumping volunteer at the homeless shelter he volunteered at. To "get him out of the house" once a week. Apparently helping the homeless was a side-effect of his "chasing 20-yo ass" agenda.

This absolute steaming piece of shit human being Lisa, well, she was in need of a place to stay a few years ago, and I was at college, so I said of course she can stay in my room for a few weeks!

They probably fucked in my fucking childhood bed. Fuckin homewrecking slut. If I knew her last name, I probably would've killed her for what she did. When I was kicked out, I was in a manic phase. I spent DAYS trying to find her just so I could inform her that she literally ruined my life. To this day, I hope she fucking burns to death. SLOWLY.

And that's nothing compared to Scott. I hope he is kidnapped, tortured, and forcibly castrated. He deserves it. He's a monster.

Don't believe me? Once I had taken picture of his texts with my phone and sent them to my sister so she could show our mother (up north), he deleted them like I thought he would. Then, within 10 minutes of my mother returning from my sister's, where she'd been presented with the proof, Scott brought up the fact that Lisa had been here to her, saying she came by to help with a reno. I immediately questioned him about it, because I had been out that night. Same night he begged her to come over and fuck him.

"Oh Lisa came by? You never mentioned it to me". I kept going like this and he had an instant answer for everything. Finally I just showed him my phone and said "She came by to help in the kitchen? Cuz that's not what this sounds like."

Whaaaat I've neeeeverrrr seen that beforeeee whaaat did you snoop on my phone? Well that's fucking unbelievable, go to your basement that's awful.

And my mom was such a fucking limp piece of shit idiot and was like yeah! Don't snoop on his phone! I know my own husband! I'd know if he cheated!

So which is it? I completely made it up or I shouldn't be snooping on his phone? Cuz if I made it up, did I even snoop? Logic failed these assholes.

So I went to my basement and spent 12 hours pulling up articles and research to prove Scott is a lying sack of shit. At 9am I go upstairs and present it to my absolutely braindead mother.

The first tab I had was about gaslighting. She started with "pfft that's not a thing." I was losing my mind that she was gaslighting me about the very concept of gaslighting existing.

I tried to move on but she simply believed she "knew" he didn't do anything.

I asked her one thing: when you went to bed last night. Were the sheets washed?

Yes.

I'd asked him if he'd done laundry recently and he said no.

Well maybe they weren't washed...

Bitch, if you can't tell if your own sheets have been washed after 55 years on this planet you're either a zombie or lying. I did not say this.

Instead, she accused me of making up everything and told me she would not have a "psychotic liar" in her house and I had to leave now. I was manic, but psychotic I was not. And liar just made me snap.

So I complied. Went downstairs, packed my shit, and called up Scott, who was at his volunteer/cheating job. Told him he's a piece of shit, that Lois was kicking me out, and I was no longer his son. He tried to play his games with me but I was done. I told him straight up, there's literally nothing you can say that will make me believe you. He started to confess.

I sprinted up the stairs, put him on speakerphone in front of my mother. He said "Even if I did what you think I did it's not your business". I raised my eyebrows at my mother.

Then she said, "That's true" and he heard and hung up immediately. Somehow this STILL wasn't proof enough for my fucking idiot of a mother. Honestly, I actually thought she was a smart person before this but now I legit think she has a learning/breathing/existing disorder. No rational human with 2 braincells to rub together is as fucking stupid as this woman I swear to god. Her face should be in place of the dictionary definition of "braindead". I'm honestly impressed that she dresses herself every day. She has the mental capacity of a flipphone.

I resumed packing, then headed for the door.

Then Scott came home. We had a brief shouting match, most of which was Scott trying to redirect everything toward "how dare you snoop my phone" and for some reason Lois ate into it. Maybe because she's the stupidest human on God's Green Earth.

I'm walking out. He gets between me and the door and says quietly, "All you have to do is say you made it up, apologize, and you can stay."

I regret not punching him square in the balls. I flipped him off and literally never saw him again. I unfortunately had to meet with my mother a few times to negotiate the return of my belongings and cat, but it's been 4 years and I've rarely looked back.

But sometimes I do. Sometimes I hear something that would be funny to us as a family because of an inside joke. Sometimes people talk about forgiveness and I wonder if I should try it. Sometimes I have days that I know my parents would've been able to help with just by being older.

But those are all false hope, nostalgia and lies. My mother never would've been able to talk me out of the anxiety attack that I had today like my roommate did. She probably would've accused me of making it up. Because she's a piece of shit borderline retarded person.

Maybe it's petty after all these years, but when I write it all out, it always makes me mad all over again. Sometimes I just remember the attacks on me and I do wonder if I made it all up. Sometimes it takes another writing out of everything that happened that day for me to realize how truly fucked it was. To remember just how betrayed I was at every single turn.

How every single member of my family. one by one as I called number after number refused to "get involved" even after I told them I had literally nowhere to go. I called my grandmother 7 times while I was staying at the very homeless shelter at which my father met his fuck buddy who somehow loves Jesus and thinks he'd be totally cool with fucking a married man. Definitely a great citizen in Lisa. God, I hope she suffers deeply. I mean it. Scott is absolutely a fuckhead, but goddamn, to homewreck someone who gave you shelter in your time of need? I hope Hell exists just so she can dedicate her whole life to Jesus then end up there anyway because she's shit.

The instant I saw the texts I knew I couldn't NOT tell my mother. And because of that, when Scott offered his "deal" at the door it didn't even occur to me to acquiesce. I can't imagine sitting on a lie like that for the rest of my life. I literally chose homelessness over safety.

I once phrased it that way to a therapist and he said very frankly, "That's kind of incredible that you didn't even accept that as an option. A lot of people would." It did not even enter my head. He was just lying and I had Enough.

Sometimes I think about what life would be like if I had taken the deal. I really can't picture it because it's just not in me to live a lie.

Sometimes I actually wonder what if I had lied for him? What if I used it as extorion? What if I blackmailed him into doing shit for me? Well, I doubt it would even work, but also, it's just not my nature.

And then sometimes I get dark. I live in Canada. Hard to get a gun. What if we lived in the States and Scott had a gun? I might not be here. I no longer hold any doubt that Lois would've helped bury me in the yard after proving what a spineless fuck she is.

Sometimes it's hard. But sometimes it's easy. When I started writing this it was hard, but now that I've laid it all out and reread it, it's a lot easier to say "I did the best I could." and have that be okay.

Yes, even 4 years later, I'm still extremely salty and bitter. But really, how can I not be? The people I were supposed to trust immediately revealed themselves to be massive sacks of shit. I'll NEVER forgive either of them. They could give me a million dollars and I still won't go to their funerals.

I know it's probably not great to hold in all this hatred, but honestly, I think I need it. I need to hate my parents because they're terrible people, and it took this for me to truly understand how little they actually care about me.

They've never reached out. Just went on with their lives. The only family member I speak to is Scott's mother.

She was the first one I called when I became homeless. She said she didn't believe me and hung up. But she's also my favorite grandparents I knew she was just acting on instinct. So a month later I called her again, and as I expected, she gushed out apologies. She knows he cheated after talking with him. She still loves him as her son but she understands what I went through and I call her monthly. She actually beats herself up about that first phone call where she said she straight up thinks I'm lying. She says she should've listened to my story. She should've taken me in. I don't blame her anymore. I finally told her I forgive her for that first call and she was nearly in tears thanking me. She's a religious woman so she actually talked about praying for forgiveness about it. She's a good woman. Even though she rejected me at first, I understand it, and because she said she's sorry so deeply, I believe it. Nobody else has said a word to me in 4 years.

Well this is 10x longer than I intended.

Stay Greater, Flamingos.

#sam #homelessness #bipolar

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