D’un bord du mur à l’autre

J’ai mis des photos de famille sur Facebook hier. Des photos de quand j’étais petite. J’ai vu que dans mes photos d’enfance, si je suis avec ma mère, elle me regarde presque tout le temps.

Pis c’est drôle parce que quand je suis chez elle, en personne, elle fait encore ça. Elle me regarde. Tout le temps sauf si elle est en train de couper des légumes ou de cuire un oeuf…

Si elle a bu, elle me regarde encore plus! Elle me suit, elle me cherche. Ben ben fatiguante.

Ça se peux-tu qu’elle m’aime trop ? Ou ça se peux-tu qu’elle se demande qui je suis ? Un peu quand je regarde mon chat et que je me demande à quoi il pense, qu’est-ce qu’il fait, d’où il vient.

Je sais que je suis une étrangère pour ma mère. Je sais qu’il y a toujours eu un mur entre nous deux et que c’est pas maintenant que je vais le faire baisser. Je vis avec le mur, mais elle, elle vit mal avec. Elle n’arrive pas à me rejoindre.

C’est sûr qu’une mère alcoolique, ça donne pas envie de se rapprocher. Surtout avec toutes les affaires plattes qui se sont passées et dites.

Mais, je sais qu’elle m’aime et je l’aime aussi. Elle le sait mais elle ne le croit pas.

Et elle me regarde tout le temps. Elle me dit qu’elle m’admire, que j’en ai donc fait du chemin, que j’ai l’air mieux. Pis, elle me regarde.

Je me sens en-dessous du microscope.

C’est drôle, je pense que je lui fait la même impression.

Je l’ai tellement regardée pour savoir où elle était rendue dans son verre, pour voir son humeur, pour voir si elle m’approuvait, si elle était contente de moi.

On se regarde de notre bord de mur depuis toujours. Je la regarde, méfiante. Elle se sent jugée. Elle me regarde, admirative. Je trouve ça achalant.

Things I have learned

  • Sometimes it’s best to stay away.
  • Going to the gym on Monday mornings helps me keep a good mood.
  • Going to the gym after work when I have a headache helps it go away.
  • It’s best to listen to myself when I’m sick of something.
  • If my spidey senses tell me that someone is icky, that someone usually is.
  • There is nothing wrong with ignoring people when you think they are icky. It helps not being caught in the middle of something or not being « seen ».
  • If you get caught or that icky someone sees you…fight or flight.
  • If you fight, use the system.
  • If you flight, run like a bat out of hell.
  • Kiwis should not be mixed with milk.
  • Chocolate has to be melted slowly.
  • There is no use preventing a cold if you already have one.
  • Light anti-squeek shoes are best for zumba.
  • Weight training time goes quickly while any one-hour class goes slowly.
  • To do homework assiduously, it’s best if I have time alone. Hours. Every day.
  • Do not judge a book by its cover or by what you read about it.
  • Be polite, don’t talk about personal stuff, don’t judge…at work.
  • Juice has way too many calories and sugar.
  • Amarulla also but it’s far more enjoyable.

Avortement sur Tweeter

J’ai commenté sur le post de Mel à propos de la femme qui a décidé de tweeter son avortement. J’ai toujours été honnête sur mon blog, mais le sujet de l’avortement est sensible et depuis que je lis plein de blogs sur l’infertilité je suis plus silencieuse à propos de mon propre avortement.

Voici mon commentaire sur le sujet du tweet :

Thank you for sharing your thoughts on this issue. I have made up my mind about abortion a long time ago. At 16, in fact, when I became sexually active. I was taking the pill but if I ever had an accident I would get an abortion because there was no way I could ever take care of this baby and it would be unfair to me, the baby and my family to have the baby and take care of it when I went to school. I wanted my kids to be happy and me to be happy with them.

I respect women who decide to keep the baby and are pro-life and I also respect the women who decide on having an abortion. Their bodies, their lives. I expect the same respect. I will never try to convince someone that being pro-choice is the only way to go and I hope noone will ever try to force me into a pro-life way of thinking.

But this story about tweeting an abortion makes me a bit sick. A blog would still have been public but not as much as the tweet. I’m all about education but I don’t agree with such a public display of TMI. Having an abortion is so private. I should know, I had one. I didn’t keep it to myself. I talked about it and when people judge someone else for having one I don’t hesitate to ask them if I seem evil ? No ? But I had an abortion and have never regretted it, it was the best decision possible at the time even if I was an adult (j’avais 29 ans). Am I evil now ?

It’s such a sensitive subject. It has become even more sensitive since I follow your blog and other women’s blogs about infertility. Everything seems so unfair. I only speak up about it because my abortion has been on my mind for a while because I read so many blogs and I wonder…about being honest about it, about hurting people, about sadness and hope and now about why someone would make such a big display of attention with a tweet.

Qui est-on pour juger de ce que les autres font de leur corps ? Que ça soit baiser, ne pas baiser, avoir un avortement, garder un bébé, prendre la pilule, manger trop de sel…on a le droit de ne pas être d’accord. Mais qui est-on pour juger comment les autres traitent leur corps ou pour juger des choix que les autres font ? To each his own.

Ben c’est quoi ? T’as pas d’vie ?

Entendu la semaine passée à la job :

« Ben c’est qui ce monde-là qui lisent ton blog ? Ils ont pas d’vie ? »

Euh…plus que toi qui doit arriver à la maison à 16h pour écouter Top Modèle ?! Plus que toi qui écoutes Star Académerde chaque saison ? Et qui vote en plus. Ou bien qui raconte n’importe quelle bêtise sur Occupation Double que tu enregistres pour te repasser les meilleurs bouts. Qui achète 7 jours, Lundi, La Semaine, whatever, avec la photo des nuls de télé-réalité.

Parce que toi, tu serais capable peut-être d’écrire un blog avec ta fainéantise ? Avec ton fumage de pot ? Avec tes p’tits drames minables de banlieusarde ?

Je vais arrêter, je suis à la veille de m’emporter, là.

Les apparences

On me juge sur mon apparence.

J’ai l’air plus jeune que mon âge, j’ai l’air tranquille et sans histoires. Je n’ai jamais eu l’air malade sauf quand j’ai changé de médicaments et que j’avais l’air de regarder les Teletubbies sur mon écran d’ordi.

Une de mes amies juge tous les livres à leurs couvertures. Les gens sont bien bons pour me juger sur mon apparence.

« On dirait pas ça ». Non. Effectivement.

Les gens peuvent me côtoyer pendant longtemps sans me connaître plus que ça. Surtout que la plupart des gens ne posent pas de questions.

Ma mère ne peut même pas me demander comment ça va tellement elle a peur de le savoir…même si ça va bien. Mes amis ne posent pas de questions non plus. Ils se contentent de l’apparence. Et si je parle, on fait semblant que je n’ai rien dit ou on devient effaré. Les gens ne savent pas quoi dire.

On ne dirait pas que j’ai été bipolaire, que j’ai pris des médicaments pendant 13 ans, que je suis en thérapie depuis 4 ans…On ne dirait pas que je viens d’une famille d’alcooliques, que je me suis fait violer, que j’ai vécu avec un dealer de drogue et avec un sociopathe aussi…On ne dirait pas que j’ai déjà fait des photos nues, que j’ai déjà été arrêtée par la police…

C’est pas écrit dans mon front ! Mais c’est là.

Et je ne m’empêche pas de parler quand j’ai le goût. Je me dis que ça va les choquer et que ça va les ébranler…

Les hormones, le déménagement, les Rice Krispies

I just started work (in fact I started at 9:30 and I have to take my break with everyone, at the same time I mean). I went to the hospital for a blood draw. I should know soon if I’m in premenopause…in my thirties.

I arrived there a bit before 8 and got out at around 9:15. Only one day before the Boyfriend moves in and it’s making me have hot flashes. It’s very exciting. I haven’t wanted to live with anyone in years and I feel claustrophobic with anyone else. It’s a huge move.

What decided me ? Well…he does the dishes and puts the garbage to the road when I ask him. He acts as The Man, putting new batteries in the fire alarm, installing hooks and stuff. Kidding. I just feel serious about him.

My mom gave me cereals she didn’t like because they are too sugary for her. Kind of puffed rice but in flakes with cranberries, they are tasty. But we don’t eat cereal much. So while I was cleaning the pantry (to put Boyfriend’s stuff with my own) I saw at least two packages of marshmallows…expired. I bought a new bag at the grocery store and proceeded to make Rice Kripies treats without the Rice Krispies, and with more cranberries and pistachios. Yummy. Boyfriend is happy, he says it tastes like the granola bars he buys at the store. I told him that the treats were less chemical. I hope I didn’t make him feel judged on his grocery treats… I used to hate the way one of my exes would talk about my choices versus his own, the nutritional values etc. I fear I’m doing the same to my Boyfriend. So I’ll be more attentive to that.

I’m taking the day off tomorrow. I wanted to go to the gym but we have A LOT of work right now and the class I thought of taking is a bootcamp…with jogging. Not something I like so I’ll work later instead to try to just finish this job. Those 1906 titles to verify sure are a hassle. I’m at 1258 and I started days and days ago.

Es-tu sur ton lit de mort, là ?

2 novembre 2007

My Sister understands how I feel. Yeah, sure. She never gave a damn about anyone but herself. And having a kid won’t change that.

Because she’s pregnant I won’t reply to her pathetic excuses and her pathetic attempt at dividing and conquering. I said thank you for the excuses. For the first time in History I don’t have to twist her arm and rip it off its socket to hear her (or read her) I’m sorries.

But really, does she understand ? She always made excuses for my parent’s and her drinking problems. « We were never beaten! » Yeah. You never were. That’s because I’m older and mom never told dad anything until you came. « We’re just having fun! » Yeah. Yelling, bitching, kissing someone other than your boyfriend, harassing people, almost beating me up, humiliating me, very very funnnn !!

Now that she’s pregnant, she realizes that she doesn’t want mom taking care of the boy if she is drinking. Hum. Wow, how about her ? How about how she is going to treat her kid ? How about how she treats her boyfriend in front of other people ?

It looks as if I’m judging doesn’t it. Well after years of making up excuses for them, after years of taking the abuse and clenching my teeth because they’re family (said here with a nasty tone) I am judging. I had enough.

My Sister tried to make me come to functions by threatening, by coaxing, by manipulating, by being absent. It won’t work !! I don’t want to be around them when they drink and they always drink.

Now she thinks that saying she understands is going to make me come. She clearly doesn’t or she would have stayed in therapy.

How can I hate someone so much ?! I am ashamed of it but I can’t help it anymore. I tried being nice and it didn’t work. I left enough room last year for communication but she wouldn’t talk to me until she was on her deathbed.

Well, as I see it she’s only pregnant. She’s not on her deathbed and until she is, I have more important things to deal with, more important people to talk to than her. She made me angry with this and it won’t go away. Everything she said and did, it’s just stuck there. I gave her a chance and she just shoved it in my face.

If she understood she would say it : It’s all her damn fault !