You know what really pisses me off? How some social workers act like they can just come into anyone's home, do, say, and ask about whatever they want, and not have the person be either extremely annoyed or unsettled by it all.
Is a family not allowed to keep their business to themselves? Like, you acted on a report that was about how my baby sister didn't talk about her bruises. She's a klutz, and you're a dunce. And beyond that all: how dare you make the assumption that it was my father who left us, how dare you make my mother cry, and how dare you question if I "do anything to help" you insufferable prick.
My mom fucking pointed straight at me and informed you that I was her only support because she doesn't have friends, and we don't have family. She answered every single fucking question of yours, and still you tried to pin the fault on me or her.
We left because my father abused us, substances, had a criminal background, and a mental health background as well. How hard is it to understand? My mom doesn't drink. Doesn't do drugs. Doesn't even fucking leave the house if she's not at work. And still everything is always her fault.
And I swear to God it took all my willpower not to reach across the fucking couch and shove my fist down your throat until you choked when you made her cry. No one makes my mother cry. No one tells me that my room is a mess and that I need to clean it, especially if I don't fucking know you. No one tells me that I'm abusive. No one. I fucking take care of my family, and accusing me of anything less is both an insult and the worst way to fucking hurt me.
And you just had to ask about why I was home. "I'm sick."
"Do you have any health issues?"
"You mean besides asthma, chronic bronchitis, severe allergies, and an immune disorder? Yes."
"What's the name of your disorder?"
"Don't remember."
"Why not?"
"Because it's complicated. But surprisingly I remember the name of everything else."
"Do you not help around the house?"
"I live here. I work just as much as everyone else."
"Why is it so messy?"
"I have a five year old sister and a six year old. Shit happens."
"Do you have food?"
"If I didn't don't you think I would be complaining of hunger?"
"Why did your dad leave you guys?"
"We left him."
"What does your sister do to you?"
"Beyond stabbing me with objects until I bleed? A lot."
"Why is your sister gone?"
"She's a danger to everyone in the household, including herself."
"Do you not help your mom?"
"We both told you I do. Some days more than others."
"Is there anything else you'd like to say?"
And I wanted to tell him, 'Yes. Get out of my house and don't come back. And don't you fucking dare take my sisters away from me.'
But I just went with, "Not particularly, no."
I'm so angry right now. So pissed that he came into my home and acted like he was fucking entitled to know everything. That because we were abused we would be bawling. It's so fucking easy to read him. He thinks we're lying. That we're abusing my sisters. And that I'm a fucking moron. Why? Because we were unsettled by having a stranger in our home. Because we were stand-offish. Aloof. Because we didn't cry until he fucking accused us outright of being the reason our dad left us. For being the reason that we don't have friends. For being liars. And most of all, for being abusive. And that was, let me tell you, fucking insulting.
I know what abuse is, dickhead. I've lived through it. Just because I don't cry and weep for you and blurt out my entire life story doesn't mean that I don't have feelings and it doesn't make a liar. Kindly go fuck yourself sir. I hope the cactus doesn't get hurt when you pull it out of your ass.
