Out-staying your welcome.

Well, I was going to go home last weekend. Somehow I managed to talk myself into staying just one more week. My vacation was cut short this evening when I had to threaten to use a gun on my father because he went completely ape shit. Crazier than a shit house rat. Its a long drawn out story that I'm not sure I want to relive at this particular moment, but Dad and my grandmother got into it. I thought he was going to kill her. There was no physical violence, but what he was saying scared me. I grabbed the gun, threw the kid into a bedroom and closed the door, and went to the room where they were screaming at each other. My hands were shaking so bad that I couldn't even get one Barney Fife bullet in the gun, but I still yelled, "Open the fucking door or I'm just gonna start shooting!" I'll be the 1st to admit that I never could have shot the thing; guns scare me to death. So I stood there for a minute or so and listened to them verbally abuse each other when I thought, "Fuckstick-call the police." So I screamed that if they didn't get out of the room and shut the fuck up that I was calling the police. I gave it 5 seconds and I ran down the hall. They both bolted out of the room after me. By this point, I was shaking uncontrollably, my voice was quivering so badly that I wasn't coherent, and my knees felt like jell-o. I grabbed the kid and ran outside. I needed a cigarette. I couldn't find the lighter anywhere. I knew that Dad had it earlier. I went to his room, threw open the door, and said, "I need my fucking lighter." He started to come near me and I told him that if he took one more step, I was going to shoot him (I didn't even have the gun at that point? Logic was gone). He said, "OK, here's your lighter. Don't flip out on me." WHAT THE FUCK. Don't flip out? I do NOT handle that type of confrontation well, unless its with my grandmother or my husband. I went back outside and tried to light the cigarette. I couldn't. I was shaking so badly that I couldn't even get the lighter up to my face. I stood there, on the verge of hyperventilation and syncope, and began to cry. The baby put her hand on my shoulder and patted my back. Then she said, "Mommy cry? It OK Mommy. It OK."

All fear left me at that point. No matter what, I knew that I'd always have my little girl, and everyone and everything else can kiss my fat ass. I gave her a hug and we began to play. But I AM staying at my Mom's house tonight. We're leaving at 8 in the morning for home. It may not be the most exciting place, but going home will be like a vacation compared to this fiasco of what was supposed to be a vacation. I need stability. I need people around me that don't experience extreme and sometimes violent mood swings. I need for people to be on an even keel. Though I may not lead the most glamorous life, its calm and calculated. Everything is planned; well, as planned as it can be with a 2 year old.

Blah, blah. The end. Going home in the morning.