I Will Not Be Haunted By My Grandmother's Hate

 Dear Diary,

No one in this world knows me better than you do so, today, I'll confide in you.

It's frustrating.  All of my life feeling this enormous pressure to be amazing.  All I was ever told was how smart I was and how my face was pretty and how I needed to do something tremendous with myself.  So, when I grew up I thought, I am smart and pretty and I am going to do something tremendous with myself.  It's one thing to get told those things but no one ever took the time to guide me.  Somewhere along the way, I got lost.

I didn't know how to do something tremendous with myself.  I stopped feeling smart because I couldn't figure it out.  I wasn't other people's idea of pretty so I lost confidence in myself.  Your aunts and uncles will always tell the little girls how pretty they are and call them princesses and twirl them around as they stand on toes and wear sparkly dresses.  I got lost in fairy dust and when the dust cleared I was left standing alone in a dark forest full of creatures unknown.

So, naturally, I stumbled into adulthood.  Yes, I work hard.  I earn every dollar of my paycheck.  I work as an assistant manager in a retail store.  I rarely ever miss a day of work.  I pay for my car with full coverage insurance.  I pay bills as best I can.  I actively work on my credit.  

Unfortunately,  my job underpays me so I looked for a better one.  That one paid me more but still pays me less than I need to live on my own and pay all my bills.  So, for a while, I lived with my grandmother and mom.  My mom eventually moved out on her own (into a small, one bedroom garage apartment so clearly she had no intention of moving with me in tow)  The first thing out of my grandmother's mouth was, "You going too?"

This question came after my grandmother knew my mom was moving into a small, one bedroom garage apartment on someone else's property and there was no room for me.  And every year, my grandmother would ask my mom if I was ever going to live with her.

I'd go to work and come home to my grandmother's house and go straight to my bedroom.  I rarely spent any time outside of that bedroom.  My grandmother became increasingly cruel.  She hated the fact that I lived there.  Even though she rarely saw me.  The fact that I was in her house, that my things occupied her space where she wanted her things, made her angry.  Eventually, I had to start cramming things into my bedroom.  My bedroom became a storage room, a kitchen, a bedroom, and a bathroom.  It became filthy.  I had so much of my things in one small room and there was no place to put everything.

Then I had surgery and went to stay with my mom in her small apartment.  That was only supposed to be for three months while I recovered.  But, because of such cruelty by my grandmother, I did not want to go back.  My mom use to be my mom.  That has been changing over time but that's another post.  Her personality resembles my grandmother's.

My mom is a nagger.  She gets worse and worse it seems.  I sleep on a futon.  All my things are crammed in a corner in the living room.  I have a few things in the bathroom tucked out of the way.  That's right.  My things are in a corner.  But still, my mom is "put your things here, and put your things like this and do your things like this" just like my grandmother.  "Move your things,"  just like my grandmother would say.  

My mom even accuses me of doing things I don't do just like my grandmother.

And tonight... tonight is what prompted this post.  I keep tweezers and an eyebrow razor on a shelf next to the sink.  It's been there for months and I use them both regularly.  Suddenly, out of the blue, my mom takes my things out of the bathroom and says I can't keep them there anymore.  Find another place to keep my things. 

I found myself sitting on the side of my futon with my eyes closed, rocking and just saying to myself over and over,

"I won't be haunted by my grandmother's hate.  I won't let my mom attack me with that same hate.  I will be in the position to live on my own one day.  I'll pay my own way. I will, I will, I will."

Three times I repeated this.

No matter how many job applications I've filled out and how many favors I've called in,  I've been stuck making $12.84 an hour working as an assistant manager in a shoe store.  

But you know what?  I will be in the position to live on my own one day.  I will, I will, I will.