Today was… hectic. I fought with my mom because she attempted to throw my art materials out.
Now, for context, my mom and I always fights. We don’t seem to meet eye to eye on everything. We just don’t. From clothes, foods, political opinion, and house arrangements, you name it. I would say our fights has their different degrees or levels. First degree, is when we keep our fights to bare minimum by being saracstic to each other. Second degree is when one of us is mad, the other would just yield just to stop the argument. And third degree, is when my mom and I shout at each other while saying all the hurtfult things that we could think of. We just really don’t get along.
The fight that we had today was a third degree type. It started out on things like me telling her how her house arrangement looks incovenient so she should do this and that insted of that and this(our house is pretty small btw so you can only do so much in here). My mom don’t always take criticisms well, so whenever she hears anything negative that would pertain to her or anything about what she did or thinks, she will take this as personal offense. Now today, we pissed each other off that she attempted to throw out the most important thig to me, that is my are materials. My whole family knew how much I cherish those, and she attempted to threw it out. She would’ve really done it if I hadn’t stopped her. I felt so mad and betrayed all over again. I think this is the reason why we never got along, I never felt a mother in her.
So what is the point in all of this? Well, cause every time my mom and I have third degree fight, I always don’t feel like myself. I seem more violent towards myself. Like, scratching, biting, pinching, pulling of my hair, and shouting endlessly. I hurt my hand today because I can’t stop pinching it with my nails, I was that frustrated. It even formed a black bruise and some scratched off top layer of skin. It hurts, but not as much as the pain my mom caused me from when I was a kid, until now. It kinda feels comforting tbh, so that’s when I realize I think I really do have a problem.
The title of this post is a reminder to myself to get a grip whenever my mom and I fight. It pains me to think that my brother sees how crazy I look. I really don’t want him to be like me. I feel sorry for being like this. I want to get help but therapy is expensive as fuck.
So… just get a grip.
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