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No. 350352
Every time I sit and reflect on my living situation and my future, I get so fucking sad. I've stopped feeling affection towards my abusive mother, entirely. I can't tell if that's healthy given the circumstances, or if I'm just unstable. If the situations were reversed, I just can't imagine doing or saying the absurd, psychotic shit she says and does. I can't imagine premeditating the kinds of psych-assault rants or pathetic attempts at pigeonholing people into positions of exploitation that she does. She acts like a martyr and a saint, but I know that deep down, it's just the window dressing of a petty psychopath. I used to think the reason she did it was because I reminded her of my father. Now I think she just gets off on this being the ultimate expression of control. I didn't want things to go this way. I didn't want the choice between a dead end job that pays shit and barely covers gas, car payments and an overpriced shoebox apartment, or be a psychobitch's financially dominated whipping boy.
There's a very good chance that I won't be able to make the military physical fitness requirements as I am. An incredibly high chance that the change to my diet will be noticed by She Who Pays the Bills, and it'll lead to more fights. I recall the period of the most aggressive harassment of all came when I were a teenager and starting to work out and exercise. Something about that made her feel insecure and she got more obstinate, trying to assert dominance more often and more threats to call the police over domestic fights she started and wanted finished, more often. Even if she were the one to try and shove me and fall on her ass in the process. To her narrative, that was me being abusive. Not her being a fuckup. If she knew I were trying to meet the physical fitness requirements to a possible way out, I can only imagine the fights she'd start or the threats to call the police would go up. And the stress level would rise. And my intestines would start hurting again. I hate always being one bad night at her job away from another shouting match, endless hours of shrill screaming, bogus accusations and threats to call the cops just to psych me into obeying whatever petty bullshit would make her feel better.
I didn't want to have to change my name and estrange myself from my worthless fucking family, moving to another place and starting over, but it's becoming more and more apparent that a future where I'm working a dead-end job and barely surviving on minimum wage, waiting for the treadmill to speed up and dump me in the gutter would be an upgrade to what I'm living now.
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