So, as some of you who follow me on Twitter, yesterday marked a rather explosive argument with my Mum. It was one of those arguments that had no purpose or reasoning behind them, but it did mark a new level of ‘abuse’ that I have had to deal with on a daily basis – and so like any red blooded male, I left.
Writing abuse is rather harsh actually, but for the life of me, at 6am in the morning, I really cannot think of a better word. I should say however, it has never been physical. This is not going to turn in to some kind of horrid Jerry Springer or Jeremy Kyle disgrace. But I knew that moving back home would make the whole situation with my mental condition worse.
The foolish thing is, as I sit here in my friends dining room with her laptop balanced awkwardly on my knee so that I can get the best signal on her 3G modem, pointed out of the window, to type this out to you, I still do not know what I did wrong – the argument literally came from nowhere. But to be honest with you, they always seem to. Normally, I’d be sitting in the living room reading the newspaper, or on the laptop downstairs watching something on BBC iPlayer / emailing people, or like yesterday, sitting down in the kitchen to eat some food I had prepared [OK it was just Beans on Toast, but I did make it!] and from nowhere I’d receive this collection of verbal nasties from Mum on the stupidest of subjects.
I should mention that this isn’t nagging. Nagging I can deal with. Nagging can be sorted quite quickly, with no aftermath. What I am talking about is constant, one sided ‘discussions’, some times lasting for hours, about how rubbish I am. One moment I am being told in no uncertain terms that I am too fat from eating too much crap, and that I WILL end up with diabetes. Other times, I’m too thin and I should go to the doctors and talk to them about what we can do about it. Sometimes I am so bleeping lazy and should work out what I am going to do with my life, but other times, I am doing too much for the show, or my scouts, or anything else I love, and I should find ways to calm it down. It is a constant random cycle of contradicting attacks.
So when I left, like a fool I drove around Haverhill and the surrounding areas for about an hour. Stopped in a local car park, had a cry – you know the usual crap. I listed the possible options for suicide – like you do – turned out all the ideas I could come up with at that time were either too painful or just too messy to worry about it for another day. Before finally ringing Julie to take me in like some kind of useless refugee.
After reviewing the situation with Julie [like only she can] over coffee, toasted hot cross buns and chain-smoking like a bitch – we finally came to the conclusion that I really can’t stay at ‘home’ any more. Which is all fine and well to conclude – but now what? I am unable to afford to leave home and rent somewhere else. And even if I can find somewhere [I’ll give you three golden guesses at what I’ve been doing online since 5am this morning] it is only the box room in a house-share. Nothing wrong with that I know, but with the studio in tow, it’s not practical. Which kind of leads me nicely back to square one, like some nasty evil game of snakes and ladders.
So in conclusion, I’m stuck – unless you can come up with any better ideas? Cause of right now, I’d gladly take any suggestions. Hell, if I was more handsome and so was actually worth the time, I would of been prostituting myself months ago