I… am confused.
So I have a problem. Or, I might do. No, I definitely do. But it might be that the problem is due to someone else having a problem, or it may be my own problem. but I don’t know which.
So, ok. This post isn’t even me being the me I am on here. It’s me writing problems… well, I do random stuff, I guess, so this fits… maybe..?
Ok. Now, this situation goes back, like, umm… 5 years? Maybe? Anyways, I left my mum, stepdad, and sisters to live with my dad. And, as such, my mother was obligated to pay CSA for me, just as my father had been when he was working as I and my sisters lived with my mother.
Then… well, then a problem arises.
As I remember it, my mother called up, and used all the guilt-tripping language she’s so good at to make me feel like sh*t about her paying CSA. So, I talked to my dad, and I and my mother came to an agreement - that she wouldn’t pay CSA, and would instead put money every now and again into a bank account. This money would be mine. However, I had no particular desire for it till recently, and so have simply let it accumulate.
As such, I asked my mother for it. Which, unsuprisingly, was a bad idea…
Because, you see, the story as SHE remembers it goes something along the lines of:
She paid CSA right up until she stopped working,
The amount of money she gave was upwards of £150,
And I never saw any of it because my father managed to spend it all on…something. Considering I had to go through his bedroom every day to get to the bathroom, and there were no closets or cupboards I didn’t go through in the entire living space, he’d have to spend it all when he went out. And given that not once have I seen my father drunk or high, he really must have worked some miracles to make the money go away.
Hell, some weeks we struggled for food. Most weeks we were asking my stepmum for money to buy food, and paying it back when money came in, so it’s not like we had any spare…
The bank account was set up just because she’s such a lovely mummy (though none of my sisters, living with her, got one. Just, you know, saying…),
I know about the bank account because, well, I don’t know. And apparently neither does she! I guess I’m a frikkin’ telepath, huh.
Oh, and it’s not mine till I’m 18. Because reasons. Well, there are some reasons I can think of, but quite frankly, none of them are good enough… given that they rely on me somehow becoming a completely different person over the course of a year. And I genuinely mean completely different. I, as I am now, am scared to get on a bus (and haven’t ever done so without my family. Wow I am saying some embarrassing sh*t. Well, not that it’s embarrassing till somebody reads it…) And she expects me to pay for driving lessons. Tell you what, the first time someone beeped their horn at me I’d probably manage to run a guy over.
Anyways, the point is, as you can see… maybe… through the slight bit of raving and ranting… mm…
Yeah, the point is, I have a problem. But I don’t know if the problem is
1) Me and my father somehow having memories that are completely twisted and false (oh, and my stepmum too, since my mum threw out some bull about stuff she knows about too …) or
2) My mother completely misremembering in the same way, with my stepdad, or
3) my mum being a total b*tch who doesn’t want to part with £200 of money that should, by rights, be mine, but may not even really exist, considering her and my stepdad…
We got into this massive fight about it, you know. Well, you don’t, only we do, we being those I’ve told, soon to include you, unless you’re re-reading this, or started at the end, in which case, good on you, you do already know, what was I saying, hmm, look at the screen? Yeah, ok.
So, we got into this massive fight about it, during which I decided, for the first time, to actually be something less than nice to my mother… which deteriorated suprisingly quickly into me being rather terribly impolite, and her using rather terrible grammar, failed arguments and stupid logic that she thinks is the best kind of logic because it works in her favour (only it doesn’t, ‘cause one part of it actually tore the other part apart, didn’t it, hmm, you smug *****)
Oh, just saying, I’m pretty sure I still love her. Maybe
Though, her deciding to ignore my birthday utterly (seriously, not even a message on facebook AFTER I initiated contact.) and sending me nothing more than a card for christmas (which I have a slight suspicion may have actually been done by one of my sisters) - again, not wishing me merry on the day. Oh, and her getting my little sister to call me a liar… or rather, to believe I’m a liar, is enough for me to want to smash the f*ck out of my stepdads new motorbike (which is totally NOT frivolous, and very necessary, despite their owning two cars) (oh but how they suffered for money when they were paying my CSA) (Oh, and she called videogames frivolous. While I’m not about to argue with the fact, the context made it a terribly derogatory remark. And she called any arguments about it being on the same level as, say, books, films, football or motorbikes on the frivolous scale ‘guff’. Guff. Mm, because that’s the reason you haven’t replied to any of my arguments, mother. Because they’re ‘guff’, and you won’t have this argument with me, and I’m not calling you a liar but you’re calling me a liar but by the logic used for that statement you actually ARE calling me a liar, no reply to that, hmm? No, because I told you what I expected of your reply, and surprisingly enough, after I told you my predictions, I just didn’t get one. Because that’s the only path you had left open where you would lose a minimum of face, right? Coward. )
But yes. Basically, this whole thing has ruined my relationshjip with two of my 3 sisters, and to be honest I didn’t have much of one with my eldest to begin with… oh, though I love her very much, of course. As the only one left who doesn’t think I’m a liar who’s been tainted by my father’s ‘poison’ (yes, an actual quote. My father, the man who’s very words are poison. Pretty impressive, huh?).
Ahh, damn, I won’t stop thinking about this till it’s resolved. Have to laugh when they say ‘why is it such a problem’. It shouldn’t be. If mum just gave me my money, there’d be no fuss. And they can’t (or damn well SHOULDN’T) do anything with the money anyway, so why not just give it to me?
Oh, but then, their the sort of people who, if I get upset, say ‘stop being such a child, throwing hissy fits’ while if mum gets upset, go ‘you’re so hurtful and arrogant and mean, I don’t want to speak to you’
Yep. My mothers half of the family, a circle run on guilt-trips, double-standards and paranoia. (I don’t think I told you about that, but meh, it’s a long story, I haven’t the time.)
Oh, hey, while I’m here! Want to here about the reasons I came to live here? mm, no-one does, right? But as no-one is the one reading this, I suppose I’ll write it specially for her, mm-k? mm, that is, it’s written for you, no-one! Love ya!
Ok, well, there are actually many, many reasons. But I’ll start with a big one.
I like video games. A lot. A very lot. A super very lot. A REALLY super very lot.
And I always have, long as I can remember.
Now then, back with my mother, to keep me under control, they regulated me strictly to half an hour a day, tops. Now, it may sound like whining, but I had already read every book in the house I was allowed to within a couple of years, so apart from what new books were allowed to me every now and again, I had nothing interesting to do. Oh, I was a child, of course I liked playing with my (then) brother and sisters, but they often had their own stuff to do. And anyways, 30 minutes is nothing for a child. I mean, nothing at all. At least for me, back then.
So yes, I was discontent with that to begin with.
But, add to that the rules. Which basically state, if Amos does something wrong, or doesn’t do something right, no games. So, I could only play on it if I tidied my room (hoover, dust and polish), did my homework, did whatever household chores were assigned, to a satisfactorary standard, with no fuss. Does anyone know a child who would spend their life HAPPILY like that, when there is something else they REALLY want to be doing at the time? ‘cause I don’t. At the very least there’d be a little fuss. And then, bam, no games for the day. That one thing I went to sleep looking forward to, the one thing I actually wanted to do with my time, and I had to wait a whole ‘nother day for a chance.
I realise I sound kinda pathetic, but come on. I haven’t had a social life my entire life, and… well, the furthest I’ve ever been from home on my own was to the shop across the road. Literally visible from our window. In plain sight, even. I was stuck in a house with a bunch of books I’d already read and a bunch of board games no-one else wanted to play. And you can only play monopoly with yourself for so many hours before it gets a little bit tedious. And videogames, they were what I longed for. Probably because of the escape factor.
So anyways, nearing the end of my time their… having spent a year at a selective business and enterprise college, there came up a particularly distressing issue. Now, up to this point there had been multiple summers without games, months gone without games, and at one point I think about half a year with them being stuck in the loft. But then, suddenly, something happened. I can’t remember what the hell it was, but according to my stepfather, one of us absolutely had to have done it.
Now, I was the naughty child. Unsurprising, really, given my constant feeling of suppression (sounds way too dramatic but I don’t know what else to call it) and so everyone seemed to believe it was me. It wasn’t. My stepfather and mother then agreed that if no-one were to confess, the game systems would be sold, or no-one would be allowed to read for a month.
Understand this. My brother (at the time) was computer savvy. He could play games on his laptop if he so desired. And my sisters were not particularly fussed about games. So they all just said sell the game systems. I myself went the other way, but it was a ‘democracy’ so… Anyways, as you can see, they had already decided it was me. But I had nothing I could do. If I confessed (despite having done nothing) I’d lose the games as punishment, and if I didn’t, they’d be taken away as a ‘fair’ punishment against us all.
That kind of manipulative bullsh*t is a big reason I hated it there, and a big reason I came to live with my dad.
So, thanks for reading this, no-one! It’s nice to have someone to talk to, you know? Someone who can think something like I can, or something. Oh, and… Merry Christmas, no-one, though it’s a day late!
As I said before, love ya!