Every single time my mom so much as rearranges the littlest thing, how hard she tries to clean up without disrupting things, I freak out. I try my best to control myself but I just freak out. I start to throw things on the floor, I rip my hair out and I kick things around, scream and cry and full-out-freak-out.
It's not a matter of trying not to freak out. I try. Because I know it took my mom effort and time and she means very well and she just wants to make me happy and she tries so hard, so I try really hard to control myself. But this. It's like a switch flicks in me and it's over. I can try to stop myself but I have to freak out.
I will never be ready for things people try to force me into. I will never be ready for the things people think aren't a big deal, and they want me to be ready for, or assume I'm ready for.
Something in me constricts around my heart and I'm just like, no, I can't have it this way. And nothing can stop me then.
I tried to tell her it wasn't her fault.
There are times when it wasn't because of somebody else, even if they triggered it. It's my problem. And it wasn't that the person did this to me, to make me feel whatever it is It's just the conditions. The circumstances. I can't not know. I can't have things around me change and leave it that way and not rearrange them to how I want them to be or at least re-know what placing they're in. But usually, I make a huge mess, sit on the floor, and cry while I rearrange them.
I wanted to tell her it wasn't her fault. But she wouldn't listen. And then when she asked, if what I had to say was something, well, no she didn't ask, she implied that it was something that was no good. So I got angry. I was hurt. I threw my chopsticks, because I was eating. And she got shocked and indignant and she said how could I throw my chopsticks and after that I just refused to talk.
So now she'll never know.
This is my problem.
