This is just my excessive, entitled petulant whining, right? An obnoxious expression of privileged ignorance over nothing that I'm lucky to have. But I hate living here. Hate it hate it hate it. Today was such a lovely day, up early, take care of the various pets, walk down to the shops, clean out and refill dishwasher, scrub the pot I'd used, sweep the floor, take the bins out, look for work... I was happy because I'd taken care of things that I saw needed doing and no one in the process had treated me like I was incapable of recognising that things needed doing, because they were all asleep or at work. And doubly happy because I had managed to take care of everything we get criticised for missing, so I could look forward to an evening without stress or hostile environment. Oh well, I made a mistake with the bins, of the two that were scheduled to go out I got one right and one wrong. Because one goes out every week and the other two alternate and I marked the ones that alternate on my calendar and guessed wrong about which one was the other, regular one. And apparently it's so simple to do how could anyone get it wrong? And that's all the notice I got for today. Of course I want appreciation. If you're going to chide me for not cleaning your dishes and not sweeping your floor and tell me how lazy and useless I am then I bloody well want something beyond the mere absence of being put down in return for the doing of them. But no, no, you find it amusing to tell us how tomorrow you're off work and going to make us get up at 10:30 (am up before that anyway) and clean up our mess in the kitchen (what was I doing today then? what's your mess, an artful decoration?). Sick of this, sick of this. Tell me to clean the bathroom, assume I didn't do it, then reissue the order the next day without checking. And then when I show you, you stand around with my sister talking about how amateurish it was because I missed the metal ring around the sink drain. It doesn't matter, right? Why should I ever do anything I'm told if I don't even get to escape criticism that way? I love it when there's no one around and I can just enjoy cleaning and taking care of myself and living without the fear of my family being around and judging me for it. When have you ever had a nice word for anyone? Presumably you like your husband, since you just married him a year ago. Am pretty sure you praised us sometimes as children, gave us comfort when hurt by bullying, told us we were smart or whatever. But you don't seem to like us now. Whenever one of your children isn't around you tell the others how awful the absent one is. My sister's a cow, a bitch, lazy, selfish, thoughtless. Don't know what you say about me behind my back, presumably much the same but without the gendered epithets. Or like what you say to our faces when you're actually angry. You've not a kind word to say about your sister, your father, your mother. And speaking of which, why are we going to your mother's for Mother's Day if you dislike her and your sister so much? I don't have a problem with them, but a day of bitter sniping doesn't seem worth whatever duty or denial of their victory is going on here. I can't talk to you. Every time I try you interrupt with some criticism of myself as a person or yet another lecture on How To Survive When You Are On Holiday - it's like you are incapable of remembering I know how to cook, or worse when you don't take seriously something I express and then share the same sentiment months later. And then either you walk away before I can try the talking to you I wanted to do or I've lost the will to do so and walk away myself. I do a lot of that when I want to respond angrily to something but know I'm incapable of 'winning' a verbal conflict in this family. I can't talk to you. Every time I try you make me feel like a shitty, worthless, incompetent person. I can't go to you for support when I'm feeling down or scared or whatever, because in many ways you explicitly don't support me, and in the others you neither understand nor are willing to take seriously for the sake of empathy how I'm feeling. And if I ever let on that you don't help or actually make me feel worse you start on about how mothers are innately all the same and cannot behave other than you do because it's love, or how put upon and blamed the mother always is and sarcastically deriding our pain as an unjustified vicious attack on you. I can't talk to you, so I avoid you when I can, and in your view it means I need psychological help because I have an increasingly serious anti-social problem. Bah, as if you were fond of any of the psychologists who declared me competent and sufficiently aware and informed to make decisions concerning myself, my body and my future - when what you wanted was for them to use my disability as a bar to my autonomy, though I know you refuse to see it that way. I know you have a lot of issues of your own and I'm pretty sure you've suffered emotional abuse from several sources but it isn't my job to teach you how to be a decent person, and it is not something I am able to do anyway when I can barely speak in your presence. What I want is for it to stop hurting. I'd really, really like a daily life without this.