What really gets my goat.

You know what really gets my goat? The number one thing that if I had the power to stop I would.

My parents communicating.

All of a sudden this year they're speaking to each other. After 30 years of hating each others guts and constant shit-talking they've finally grown up and are capable of speaking to one another. They couldn't have done this during my formative years when I was being imprinted with god-awful relationship ideals and subjected to horrible examples of communication, love and general life. They had a nasty divorce. They hated each other for years! They couldn't or wouldn't speak to each other until I well into college, 15 years after they divorced. I was dragged into all sorts of unimaginable shit because they couldn't get it together as adults.

And Now 30 years later my parents have begun to communicate. About the only thing they have in common, me. It wouldn't be so bad except that I always hear about it later. And I know it's still the same manipulative games they've always played. It's just that now they know I'm sensitive to it so it plays into their motives. They're still playing the "Love me MORE!" game it's just that now they're exploiting my insecurities to do it. Joy!

Seriously, If they feel the need to sit around and talk about how much I suck at life do they have to tell me? We've all known each other for 27 years now, they know what makes me tick and more importantly what makes me cry. I can't even be mad at my mother for freaking out that everyone I know is getting married and the fact that I'm further from that point than I was in high school because I know the only reason my dad told me is so I would be mad at my mom. Which does make me mad at my mom but it also makes me mad at him too. And now I just feel alienated. Now there is no one I can cry to it about it. I'm freaking 30 years old and I'm now starting to deal with the emotional trauma inflicted on me from their divorce. Or maybe it's just that years of emotional abuse, neglect and trauma have finally become too big to swallow and pretend as if it isn't there.

The sad part of all of this is that it is really my number one fear. I'm scared to death that I'll do the same thing to my kids. I'm afraid that I'm too damaged to resurrect a decent parent. I'm afraid I'm too damaged to do anything really.

I'm sorry this isn't my usual light-hearted jovial babbling. It stinks of self-loathing and self-pity and I of all people appreciate how disgusting it is. If I wasn't myself I would say "Get over it and move on." I have no patience for it. But then again if I wasn't myself this would all be moot. I wouldn't be going through it. Or it would be really irrelevant because if I wasn't myself I would be someone else which would probably indicate some kind of dissociative identity disorder and we would have different problems all together.