Beginning... A Probably Very Long Introduction

2008-09-14T05:02:00.000-07:00

So this story is probably starting at what, I very much hope, is near the end to a very long saga (four years so far). Normally I would just bitch/moan/vent to a friend from high school, Tanaaz, but unfortunately it’s quite hard for us to get together and chat. One of the downfalls of higher education I guess. We're used to seeing our best friends regularly five days a week for thirteen years then suddenly it's so hard to organise to see each other for even a few hours every month.

Anyway I should probably give you, the readers, some background, because in this saga you'll definitely (does anyone find definitely and defiantly really hard to spell? I'm twenty years old and still hesitate when spelling both those words) need background and perspective.

My name is Lincoln Then James. And 'Then' is pronounced 'ten', as in the number. It's Malay I believe. I'm twenty years old, gay, male, single, extroverted when with friends and generally introverted when with anyone else (including most of my family). I'm currently studying a Diploma of Hospitality (Management) at Holmesglen Institute, Waverley Campus. It's fun and seems to be my chosen career path, but also somewhat easy. I also enjoy dancing (mostly contempory ballet but I only did that for 6 months, but before I did hip hop, which I don't enjoy so much). When I’m at home I'm mostly playing games on either my Xbox 360 or Computer, reading Sci-Fi/Fantasy books or online gay fiction. And I enjoy cooking (except when forced).

The other major player so far is my mum (who this blog'll mainly be about). We will call her Jill. She is 52 years old and has a mental disorder (again one of the main reasons I’m writing about this blog). I won't mention what the disorder it is, but it's not immediately obvious like schizophrenia, but it has over the last four years affected her personality and habits tremendously and not for the better.

So I've started to write this blog tonight (just thought I'd mention that I've never written a blog before, so please be gentle) because of a little altercation with my mother. To any outside observer it wouldn't have looked like anything earth- or soul-shattering but to me it seemed like the straw that broke the donkey's back.

I got home at about 9pm after spending the day with some of my closest friends (we celebrated Eliza's birthday by going paintballing). Mum was using the computer so I was playing the 360. She decided to watch TV, and seeing as I was using the TV I had to stop playing the 360. I asked her to put the remote and controller on the side table for my easy access next time I play the 360. A minor argument ensured. My argument was that the whole point of a remote and cordless controller is negated if you have to get off the couch to get it. She said the side table had too many things on it. After which she scolded me for annoying her after having a day of fun and that I wasn't allowed to use the computer tonight and that I was to go straight to bed (the time was approximately 10pm and did I mention I'm 20?). Also the computer is mine. Not in the sense that I use it most or it was given to me. I paid for it, all $1900. And all while I was studying full-time at Deakin University (that was last year, I'll continue about that at some later point) and working part time, not something that's easy for anyone. My question to her was 'Oh, and it's your computer?' She said something along the lines of 'yes, because I pay the bills.' Since when are parents so focused on money? (I should mention that I get no allowance from my mum, my youth allowance goes straight into her bank account and if I want to do anything besides stay at home I have to pay for it.) And yes I know that parents do need to be thinking about money, because if they don't, who will? But it seems to me that money is more important to her than I am sometimes.

I don't mean to sound all Emo or self-centred, but in choosing to raise someone don't we have a responsibility to them to provide for them until they move out or are able to support themselves the best they can? And by 'best they can' I mean once they've gotten some sort of higher education qualification and a full-time job? It seems that my mum is constantly not giving me money. I haven't been paid from my work for about three weeks and I know that if I ask to have some money for lunch or whatever her first words will be 'make sure you pay me back'. And she does this with everything. It makes me feel less like a son and more like I'm asking the bank for a loan.

I think I should bring this post to an end; I don't want anyone to read this to stop half way because they're bored. So as I was leaving the room the thing I most wanted to say to her was how much easier and happier my life would be if she just committed suicide. Extremely harsh, I know, but that's how I felt, and now that I've had my, somewhat-little, rant I don't really feel like that anymore as much, although thinking about that rationally (if you can be said to think about your mother's death rationally) it would ease things quite considerably. I guess the best option would be to move out. But I don't want to move out until I have a full-time job...

So please comment and let me know what you think.

Btw the song I think most applies to how I feel right now would be "The Moment I Said It" by Imogen Heap. Not so much because of the lyrics but because of the music and Imogen's emotions emoted during the song.

Living with a single, mentally ill parent

Beginning... A Probably Very Long Introduction