Ramble on, sister

I'm chatty today. I just feel like rambling, so I'll tell another story.

My mom is crazy. No, really. She's got borderline personality disorder, which basically means she can be a manipulative bitch and also a sad, lost little soul. I always took care of her, until I set some boundaries. And when I was little, she always too care of me. Now, we have a better relationship, but it was rocky there for a while. Let's see if I can think of something good.

I used to hide from her. There were spots I would go to when she was being cruel - just fighting with me, or saying mean things. I seem to have blocked out the substance, but I know I the emotions that are supposed to be there.

One day, my dad came home and found my mom just yelling up the stairs in my general direction. Who knows what she was yelling about, but my dad came upstairs to find me. "Anne?" he asked, looking around. I heard his footsteps enter my room and could see his shadow. He sat down on the edge of my bed and looked at the closet. "Anne, come out." "I can't." He giggled and asked why I was hiding in the closet. "I hate her," I replied. "Come on out now," he said, a little louder (not yelling, just trying to get me to come out). He pulled open the door and I was curled into a ball in the far corner, just sitting. "Come on."

My dad always tried to rescue me and reassure me by acting like it was no big deal. He didn't have to spend all day with her, so I know he didn't realize what it was really like to be in her path. So I hid, and he found me. Every time. And every time I was curled up as small as I could be.

Later in life, I dealt with this fear of mom's moods by drinking. Need to get away from mom? Go drink a bottle in the woods. Hide in the hall closet where the booze is. Stay away all night and smoke some weed. Oblivion will help. When you get home she won't say anything, cause you're invisible when your dad is around. She loved him so, I know that. She still does. And he loved her.

I would always try to get in between them when they hugged so I could be a part of it, too. I wanted love, and they freely gave it to each other. My dad hugged me when he got home from work, and read to me every night as a kid. I remember affection from my mom, too, but not well.

I was the invisible kid. I learned to walk in the dark and to not make any noise at all (which helped when I was older and snuck out a lot). I spied a lot on my parents because I knew which steps made noise, and which I could sit on without fear of being seen. I stayed invisible. I tried to go through life that way, but I'm a little outgoing now. But I often feel invisible. I feel like people can't see me, or take me for granted.