That’s what mom told me tonight. I was down and out about addiction and mental illness. Earlier in the week, I submitted to a drug test at my father’s request and it came back negative. He was just sure I was on something, thus causing my problems with mental illness.
“I love you momma,” I told mom tonight. “You’ve all I’ve got. Dad hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you!” mom said. “He is just hard hearted in his elder years.”
“Get in the car and let’s drive around,” she said, as I sat down in the passenger’s seat.
We drove out Spring Road far out into the countryside out of the town’s limits. I ate my two burritos mom had bought for me for fast food Mondays.
“Seeing you upset makes me upset,” mom told me as we pulled back in front of my house. “You’re my son. I want you to be okay!”
“I’ll be okay,” I replied. “Just being with you tonight made me feel better.”
I shut the door and watched mom drive off into the drizzle that was now falling. I had never felt so alone in all my life. I only had one choice. To get back on the straight and narrow and to try and win my father’s trust if such a thing could be won. I just want his love and affection. I want back the father that would used to hold me in his lap and laugh. What we’ve all been through with me and mom has us all jaded, cynical, and hard. We are all victims of the battlefield of family that can be mental illness. Can such things even be undone? I don’t know. I really don’t want to think about it now that I’ve written this. I just want to drink my two cokes and get lost reading about other’s lives on Twitter.