my mother just texted me a picture of her dog wearing a hat.
i’m not sure how i just let myself be depressed for years. my mother of course had a lot to do with it. she actually encourages that sort of thing. (talking to her on the phone a couple of weeks ago, she told me i ought to look into getting disability! for post-traumatic stress disorder! and living off that! which came so far out of nowhere i burst out laughing. what a terrible plan. ‘you think i’m too crazy to work?’ ‘no, you know i don’t think you’re crazy. i’ve never thought you’re crazy. because you’re not crazy.’ ‘right.’)
she was also vaguely talking about how i should move to south carolina—‘we could set you up in your own little place!’ and her new paleo diet. and how she desperately wants to get a new dog. (she and my stepfather already have 3.) and how it was such a drag to have to go out to dinner with a friend who’s just been diagnosed with ‘a bad kind’ of cancer. (i told a therapist i had in chicago that i was worried my mother was a sociopath. she said she probably wasn’t—most sociopaths being CEOs or in jail—probably more like your basic everyday narcissist.) whatever she is, she’s kind of like the arch-enemy of reality. after i decided to leave grad school, she SENT OUT RESUMES AND APPLIED FOR JOBS PRETENDING TO BE ME. i swear to God. and i would beg her to stop and she would go into a psychotic rage. these were good times! she would scream at me for being lazy and ungrateful. when she was being so helpful!
of course it wouldn’t have been so bad if it had actually been helpful. i mean, it’s pretty nuts to pretend to be another person, but if she’d made a nice resume and applied for jobs that made sense for me to have, well, that wouldn’t have been so bad. but the jobs were totally random. and the resume—i was so horrified when i saw it—was a formatting nightmare, full of nonsense. (not being me, she obviously didn’t have a lot of information about what it was i had done.)
things would have gone very differently if i’d had one even halfway-sane person to talk to.