jrohini
It occurs to me that the possibility exists where everything I've gone through in my life, could count for nothing. Like at some point in the cosmos, the universe says: "Well I know you've had it rough, but here's some more." As if the universe were a seven year old girl grown disenchanted with her Barbie and decides to cut the doll's hair poorly and colour over her face with magic markers. She smells like strawberry now, but not in the way Mattel meant for her to.
I think I'm obsessed with the idea of having O.C.D.. I'm not sure I actually have it, I'm just enthralled with the notion that I may. I like to have things organized, everything needs to have a place, and things need to be ordered according to their height, or various physical similarities. Perhaps I'm more O.C.D. about being O.C.D. that I force my life into order. Maybe it's just my way of making sense of my life. I shouldn't belittle the condition though, I don't know it's real plight. There are probably those plagued by O.C.D. that they wish their life wasn't so...ordered.
Someone called me a trooper the other day, and I didn't quite know how to react. I mean my dad's been sick for as long as I've known him, and my mother has taken care of him for as long as I've known her. I've just been the youngest child, and my brother left home to become a priest. What about that makes me a trooper? Was it the trips to the hospital behind the ambulance, packing the overnight bag and snacks so my mother wouldn't go hungry? Was it always remembering to pack a change of clothes for my dad? Was it the foresight to bring the phone charger? Maybe it was the fact that I was there, then went to school, and work, and went back again? I knew I was a daughter, but I didn't know I was a trooper.
That's the thing about my house: when my mother got mad, everyone knew about it. Her emotions hijacked the atmosphere. Her anger was a thick viscous blanket that slowly crawled over the house, seeping into everyone's emotional space and suffocating their vulnerability. When she was angry, she made you feel small, quiet, and responsible for her anger.