Home Is Where The Heartache Is

I didn’t grow up in a picture-perfect family. Normalcy was never this family’s strong suit.
We weren’t a family of four, who got up early on Sundays and went to church together. We didn’t have a pool in the back yard. We never sat at a table for dinner, informing everyone of our daily tales and shenanigans. Our father wasn’t a huge moneymaker, nor was our mother a charming housewife. You’d never see our family’s picture in photo frames as samples.
I live with my dad and grandparents. These circumstances were thrust upon me, and if I had been given the choice sometime after I could walk, I would have chosen to live alone with my father. Living with one’s grandparents isn’t something anyone aims for. I wouldn’t mind living close to them, but living in this crowded house with a deaf guy and a lady who can’t walk isn’t a big dream. When I was a baby it was nice, ya know, having babysitters. But I’m 13 and living with old people is really no fun at all. There’s always yelling and LOUD TVS OH MY GOSH DO I HATE MY GRANDPA’S TELEVISION!!!! We need freaking soundproofed walls! I have a feeling I’ll be writing a whole blog about my home life in the near future.
We all know about my mother. We needn’t go into that. My brother Michael just moved out (I prefer to call it escaping). His residence here was both a burden and a rarely-occuring benifit. He was no perfect housemate. He yells. A lot.
My oldest siblings both live elsewhere. My sister in Texas, my brother in West Tulsa. They both went through a lot, because they lived with our mother the longest. Adam stayed in Fostercare, Amber in there for a short while before being placed with our aunt and uncle in Arkansas.
It gets to be a hassle. I look at my friends’ lives and think, Why can’t I have a family like that? One with a mom, dad, and kids that get everything they want? Why is it ME who has to live with old people in a small house and lives on barely any money? Why can’t I have a 1990’s sitcom family? I’m not asking for complete faultlessness, but some sanity would be okay. I don’t mean to sound whiny, but my gosh! I have to put a pillow over my head to drown out my grandpa’s TV even when my own is on. My grandma can barely freakin walk, so I’m always at risk of getting run over by her stupid powerchair. My dad works maybe three days a month. My brother Michael got lucky. He doesn’t have to go through this anymore.
This isn’t one of those blogs where I state my problem and state how I’ve overcome it. No, this problem is still going on. (Excuse me, I have to go TURN THE STUPID TV DOWN!!!!!!!!!) I don’t think it will be resolved until I move out. Sometimes I want to pull my hair out. This home is far from perfect. I don’t even think we’re on the same planet as perfection. I’m barely handling it here. Maybe someday I’ll move out with my dad, but… That seems like it’ll never happen.

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3 thoughts on “Home Is Where The Heartache Is

  1. zezemia4000 says:

    maybe not right away but it might in the near future or maybe just the future maybe not near lol XD

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