Miserable B****

After last week and my sister’s horrible visit the last thing I need was to be call a miserable  b**** by my adopted grandmother today. It all started yesterday when my mom and my nephew ended up having to go the emergency room because they couldn’t stop throwing up and having diarrhea (sorry if this turn anyone off but I can’t think of a better way to put it right now). They were sent home after a few hours, a shot and some medication, but now I have them both at home. Yesterday it was fine because dad was around to help, but today he had to work so I was left with two sick people, one of them under the age of five. I am NOT good when it comes to the stomach flu because listening to others be sick makes me want to be sick. So here I am trying to get Pedi-pops down the little one, Gatorade down my mom trying to remember medication and not be sick because they are being sick.

Of course this is when my adopted grandmother (the one I usually love and adore and who usually loves and adored me back) starts calling the house. The problem with this is that she can’t hear on the phone so she starts getting made when we pick up and she thinks no one is there. After 3 calls of us picking up her not hearing us and getting cussed out on the phone for not answering, I have to run to the nursing home to see if she’s dying because that is how she is acting. I get there and she starts on how no one has been to see her in a week (which is a lie since both mom and I where there on Sunday – I even stay and watch a whole movie with her). She told me that I had better get my mother in to see her today – when I told her that wasn’t going to happen because mom was sick, etc. and on bed rest. Then she starts in, on wanting me to run to her house because she only has the clothes that she has on that are clean. I told her that I really couldn’t because I didn’t want to leave my mom and nephew for so long and that I would have someone bring her clothes the next day in the morning.  At which point she starts yelling all kinds of things at me and I leave with the sound of her yelling “Miserable B****” as I go down the hall.

Yes I realize that she is old, and frustrated, and use to getting what she wants when she wants it. I also realize that she is not used to being immobile and reliant on other to do things for her. This however is not the first time I have either ran over there or told her it was impossible for me to come at that moment only got get it turn on me.  I’ve been told that if I didn’t come she was going to die before morning and it would be my entire fault. I’ve been told that because she has given me money, which I thought had no strings attached, I was basically going to do what she told me when she told me.

The hardest part about all of this is she used to be the person I would go to when I was feeling bad about myself. She’d always say that I was her favorite granddaughter. That I was beautiful and loving and now she is making me feel as worthless as everyone else in my life.

The real truth is that she is miserable and b****y and is taking it out on the ones closest to her. That of course didn’t help as I was bawling my eyes out as I left the place.

I found the above picture and added to this blog because after reading it, I’ve come to the conclusion I am NOT Miserable, BUT I AM A B****!

Advertisements

One thought on “Miserable B****

  1. That’s right!..you go girl!….or should I say…”bitch”!…I’ve learned that when other people accuse me of things and call me names….they don’t even realize that they are unconsciously referring to themselves..projecting onto me how they are acting. Your family expects so much from you…..it seems that if you moved a million miles away from them….you might lose your identity, but maybe you would transform like a butterfly and find out who you really are…apart from their negative influence and opinion of you.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s