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I just can’t take any more

April 10, 2008

The crazy roommate and I had a huge fight last night. Apparently, her family and friends have all convinced her that I am taking advantage of her (which leads me to wonder precisely what light she has painted me in for them to say that). She seems to believe that while I am desperately trying to find an affordable, yet safe, place to live, that I have been hoarding money and refuse to help her out with the bills.

First of all, the offer was “you can stay at my place, no strings attached.” When I argued that I wouldn’t feel right not contributing, she said okay, but to only do what I could. Now that she is desperate to have money for closing costs, I’m manipulating her and keeping money from her that I’m earning.

She seems to have a fondness of throwing things in my face that are not only irrelevant, but none of her damn business, and that’s when I packed my things and said I was going to my boyfriend’s house for the night and we would talk again.

Aye.

I spent my entire day yesterday apartment hunting and I fell in love with one that I should not have even taken the time to look at. It’s on the high end of my price range and it will be a struggle to pay the rent as long as I’m still waiting tables (which hopefully, will only be for another month or so). If my dad can really help me out to get into the place like he said he would, all would be swell. Thing is, part of the problem my mom exposed to me is that they really can’t afford to help me out, so his offer to pay move-in costs on a new apartment might not be something he can do. Which means that exhibit A is most certainly out of the question in that event.

My sister, who I haven’t spoken to since October, was the one who filled me in on what’s going on with my dad and his odd behaviors. I am still taking all of the information with a grain of salt. When talking to my dad, he insists that he is fine (which most mental patients do), and that he’s just tired of being a pushover and doesn’t want to go through life working and not living. To me, that all makes sense, but my mom insists that it’s more than that. I suppose she should know; she’s known him for 43 years. But I don’t know. I hate the fact that I have to talk to each of my parents in secret because neither wants the other to feel like they are trying to pit us against each other.

Honestly, I have a feeling that this thing might be a divisive situation in my family, since I am more inclined to believe my dad in what he says, although I fear that by doing so, I am only enabling his recent behavior. I just know that by supporting my dad, my mom will see it as refusing to take her side. To me, it’s not a matter of taking sides, it’s a matter of actually fixing what is wrong — whether it’s my dad’s brain or the family dynamic that to me, has been so skewed for a very long time. Part of me feels like my dad is finally feeling what I have felt most of my life and that finally, I’ll have someone to relate to.

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