Me and my husband
I’ve always liked my mom better than my dad. I’ve always loved her more. If my dad died, I think I’d be sad, but part of me would also be relieved. If my mom died, I’d be devastated.
I know my mom better. I understand her sadness better. My dad is a black box. The only true emotion I’ve perceived from him on rare occasions is rage. My mom wears her heart on her sleeve, to an annoying degree. Even when she attempts to cover up her emotions, it’s a performative attempt for someone to ask her what’s wrong. When she’s angry, she acts the way a hurt child acts. I find that easier to comprehend.
I find their relationship exhausting. The kind of “playful” fights that they on the daily have is the level of conflict that would leave me reeling for weeks, replaying the scenario over and over, asking myself why did I say this, and what exactly did he mean by that.
I’ve been postponing coming down the stairs because I don’t want to look at the aftermath of what was a very not playful fight.
Is it normal for a 20-something-year-old to still be affected by her parents’ fighting? I always picture a little kid sobbing, hiding in his closet, while his parents obliviously shout in each other’s faces.
If I want to spin it as a positive, I now have another reason to add to my list of why I want to get the fuck out of here as soon as humanly possible.