measi's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Daddy's Little Rich Girl, redux The *cough* "joys" of having parents help me get a new car, as explained here continue. It's put me in an underlying foul mood that I try to avoid on almost any occasion. Unfortunately, I'm also in major PMS mode right now on top of it, so it's harder than normal to shake it off. Dad finally called me back last night, per the email that I sent him (copied in the entry linked above). In his usual diplomatic way, he thought Mom and Grandpa were being "very generous" by giving $5,000 each, and he was happy to contribute $2,000 to the cause, which would get me a very good used car. While I'm extremely happy for the help, my heart sinks, because now I know another round of this bullshit is beginning since $2,000 does not meet my mother's expectations of $5,000 from my father. The bullshit about "your father has the money, why isn't he helping out more?!?" is going to come up again. She's going to rant to me about it, and quite frankly, I don't have the patience or the desire to deal with this anymore. What am I supposed to do? Invoke the stereotype of Daddy's Little Rich Girl and whine to my dad that he's not giving me enough fucking money? Please. He's willing to give me $2,000 for a car. No strings. Seriously-- how many parents have the ability to just do that? I'd be an idiot to whine. I'm thankful for the help, for crying out loud. I've come to the conclusion through this wonderful exercise on my patience with my parents that my mother has NEVER dealt with the divorce. She won't fucking get over it, even though she puts on this great show that she's doing just fine. She forgets that her children, or at least this child, sees right through the charade because I've done the denial thing with LGM a bit more recently, and also because I've been thrown in this "child in the middle" crap since I was a teenager. To my mother, everything is my dad's fault. First it was how her settlement happened in the divorce. Then everything sparked back up when my dad got remarried. She uses the excuse that he was insensitive to put his wedding date the day before their original one. Perhaps it was. Perhaps my dad's an asshole to have done so. But he was getting married in Hilton Head, during their vacation there, with the family and friends he wanted included, in the place where he proposed to her. He only had a one weekend window to plan this thing. It happened to be on that date. As soon as she remarried, the pissing and moaning started again. I've bitten my tongue through a lot of it. I've even verbally agreed, with no real truth behind it, in hopes of shutting her up about it. Nothing works. This car issue will become yet another catalyst for my mom to shelve dealing with her animosity towards my father. I'm fucking sick of it all. Honestly, I find no joy now in getting a car with any help at all. If anything, I'm feeling like my parents are indirectly giving me shit for actually wanting one, and for bothering to ask their help at all. When the car actually becomes reality, it will be more of a relief that it's (hopefully) over, more than a time for excitement about having a new car. My first ever car. They have destroyed the excitement for me. Completely. And then they fucking wonder why I don't ask either of them for help more often. My mom keeps telling me that "sometimes, Melissa, you just need to ask for help." No Mom, I don't. Not if this is the crap that I will have to go through every time that I need said help. Quite frankly, the headaches are more of a pain in the ass than the lack of money. I've learned to go without pretty damn well. Perhaps the two of you guys should start recognizing WHY I am the way I am about money. Could it be conditioning to the pattern of behavior I get from my parents? No, of course not, Mom. Because that would imply that you play these fucking headgames, which you never do, right? It's the same old shit, new day. I'm the eldest. I'll go along on the string of promises that my parents give me only so far. And then when the illusion of hope that this time, maybe I'll be treated with the fairness my fucking brother gets shatters, I'm left here wondering why the fuck I keep getting myself into these situations. Goddess forbid if I ever buy a house. 11:40 a.m. - 29 July 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||