I’m living with my parents, for now. This is because, no matter how much shit they put me through during my childhood and teen years, they are family. They are the only people in the area who I could stay with during this transition. (Believe me, if I had friends actually in the area who didn’t have a cat, I’d have asked them in a heartbeat.)
My family has always been a bit strange. I didn’t really notice until I brought friends from out of state home to visit. We’re very close and have basically no boundaries. (This is why it’s difficult to set boundaries now, because we’ve NEVER had boundaries before and my mom is always confused and hurt when I set a new one. …. Not that I let that stop me nowadays, but… I digress.)
One boundary-free aspect that I simultaneously appreciate and loathe is the fact that I know, I know, my parents have a healthy, happy, sex life.
These are the days I thank God for making me deaf in one ear and the fact that I sleep on my good ear, so I can’t hear anything. Plus, I have the air purifier and the air conditioner making white noise and I can’t hear anything that happens outside my room.
It’s fine, because it made me secure as a child that my parents really did love each other, no matter how crazy my mother is or how much of an enabler my father is, and they were not going to get a divorce.
“I promise to keep my underwear on!” My father exclaimed, making me look up from my phone with wide eyes to see him taking off his pants. He wears boxes (apparently, because I never knew that, why would I??) so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Still.
“…And that’s my cue to go upstairs! Goodnight!” I positively escaped, my father’s cackling laughter following me up the stairs.
I need my own place. A.S.A.P.