On the one hand, it's a relief (for reasons that I'll explain another time).
On the other, it's really pissing me off. REALLY pissing me off. In fact, I'm furious.
Here's why (this time):
Last Sunday was Mothering Sunday. I told my brother what mother really, really wanted; a full afternoon playing board games, all three of us. Emphasis on "all three". Because that's what she wants. Me and her AND my brother all playing together; not just me and her, as it usually is. Because while games played with me (or The Grandpapa or Great Aunt, or The Cousin; we are a board game oriented family) are fun, games played with The Brother, her son, are SPECIAL. Because EVERYTHING to do with The Brother is SPECIAL.
So that is what I told him that she wanted, and he agreed; yes, he would come over and spend a whole afternoon playing board games and he would pretend to have fun.
As Mothering Sunday was tight for time, we arranged for him to come over the following Saturday; yesterday. Yesterday came and he arranged to come over Sunday instead, and I didn't mind. OK: as mum didn't have an orchestra rehearsal, there was just as much time on Sunday afternoon as Saturday, so what did it matter? Sunday was fine, so long as it happened, because mother was looking forward to it.
Fast forward to today, and he isn't coming. He will "see us in the week".
I don't know why I am surprised; this is what always happens. I don't know why I care; I should have learnt by now. But I am and I do. I wanted him to come over and MAKE AN EFFORT. He didn't have to do much; just be here and smile every now and again. He'd even be fed; he always is fed, and mother probably would have given him something special; she always does. Hell, he wouldn't even have to walk the 30 minutes home again; mother would drive him. All he had to do was SHOW UP. That's ALL.
He came on Mothering Sunday. He brought a card that he had made himself with one of his special abstract drawings and a witty note inside, which made my store brought card look...well. Stupid, frankly...he gave her a gift; a beautiful tea-tray that mother fell in love with. And that was fine. That was great. But he KNEW what she really wanted, what she always wants and always has wanted: HIM. And he's blown it. And I'm probably more disappointed than she is; I know that - she accepts everything so much better - but I'm so FED UP. Why can't he try, just a little bit? We try so hard for him. More fool us, we know that, but we do: it's an irresistible compulsion.
It's always been that way: us bending over backwards and slogging and him just watching from afar with a nonchalant expression on his face. When it matters to HIM, it's achieved, but nothing more. Never more, and never for others; not even us, the only two people that care enough about him to keep loving him no matter what happens or what he has done.
The merest hint of effort and he can succeed so easily; he always has. But he doesn't, because he doesn't seem to want to; for himself (not when there are others to put in the effort for him) or for others. Especially not for others. Why? Why doesn't he...CARE? Why doesn't he feel COMPELLED, ever?
...Ugh. I'm typing myself round and round in circles. It feels good to be able to rant, though. I can't show my displeasure to HIM without upsetting HER, and I won't upset her if I can help it; never. But it feels good to - metaphorically - scream about it.
Whew. I need to cut back on the caffeine. Damn Pepsi Max. Why does it have to be so good? And why does it keep having to be half price?
- Ah, sod it. I'll drain the rest of the bottle.
And yes: that would be a 2 litre bottle, in one day, drunk by one person. Yes: it's terribly bad for me. So sue me. We all have vices. Mine is compulsive comfort eating and an addiction to tomato ketchup and sugar free fizzy pop, particularly Pepsi. It could be worse. It could be Red Bull. *shrugs*
Tara For Now.
Alice xxx
No comments:
Post a Comment