It's amazing how most of my anxiety attacks happen at night. Because I know I'm gonna have to be around my aunt without my mother around — ‘cause she’s working —, and the thought makes me sick. She never listens to me when I'm having an attack, she always downplays what I'm feeling, makes it seem like I'm just being dramatic. That I'm just overreacting. That calming myself down is much simpler than she thinks.
I've had to take my mother out of work several times ‘cause of this. Not only is she unable to take care of herself, but she also has to drag others along with her in her misfortune. She thinks I owe her respect because she's older than me for totally unreasonable things, completely forgetting that I'm a human being with opinions and I have every right to ask questions about anything. When all she did my entire life until I realized I had to start standing for myself was disrespect me. And you know what makes this clear? I feel great when I make her feel bad. When I can throw something I've always wanted to say in her face. When she realizes how trashy she is and that she urgently needs a psychologist. How relieved I am that she has to work all day and how much better I felt when I was away from her in another house — just as much as I felt worsier when I had to see her again (involuntarily).
Sorry mom, sorry grandma, sorry cousin. But I can't stand that woman. I want her to die — for real. I’ll never, never, ever have any sympathy for her.