Tired

At the beginning of this year one of our local library branches announced 2 writing contests. My caustic cohorts merry band of writing friends decided to all submit a story for the second contest after one among us entered and earned an honorable mention in the first contest.

And it was all fun and games (which really boils down to snark) until I received the email that I'd gotten an honorable mention this time around.

Incidentally, my friend placed this time around and one day will be a Pulitzer prize winner, which is not currently relevant beyond my need to remind this person to write more. *cough*

I now, with literally a few days' notice, am to present myself in a library multi-purpose room and read the story I wrote. Aloud. In front of other people.

Instead of quietly rehearsing in my own private hell, I'm having to manage my mom completely coming undone. All because of the fact I'm getting a little paper certificate.

God help me, when I got the email notifying me I was at my desk with my mother hovering nearby. I was startled to see "Congratulations" in the body of the email and didn't think quick enough to take the proper precautions. Which means, as a general rule, keep my mouth shut until whoever I'd tell is in a more private area. And in an instant my mother knew. And demanded to attend the small award ceremony.

When I was little and would have school events and award ceremonies I never hesitated to want my mom to attend. She was, as far as I could see, perfectly together and didn't do anything weird. And at the time, social anxiety aside, she was a perfectly doting mother. Once I was a teenager and had finally witnessed her have a full breakdown, once her meds had been adjusting I still didn't have a second thought to her attending stuff.

We've crossed a bit of a burning bridge at this point though. And while I took a day to consider that she's on a new medicine and has seemingly had less problems as the week progressed (the amount of time she's been on this new medicine), today happened. Full meltdown where she all but told me I was a horrific mistake that never should have been born - or at least a really shitty daughter who has failed her miserably. The best part was when she started spitting out favorite sayings her predatory father apparently used to say. Nothing dirty, just sayings along the lines of 'right as rain' or 'more than one way to skin a cat'. I also enjoyed her shrieking swear words at me, telling me what a potty mouth I have.

If only.

Mom later told me her outburst was because she was overtired and NOT because the topic of the award ceremony and my story came up 15 seconds before it started.

I'm tired, folks. It's suddenly the night before what I hope is a quick and relatively painless event and I'd rather skip it and take a nap. Or drink a pitcher of margaritas. Or doze on a gently rocking boat with a paperback resting on my chest and a floppy hat covering my eyes.