Waiting for the world to change but knowing it won’t

Sometimes I so deeply wish I had a normal family. You know the kind where I didn’t live with my mother but rather in my own home with a garage, granite counter tops and maybe even a man who had actually been excited enough about spending the rest of his life with me that he gave me something big and shiny for my left ring finger. And if I’m not being too picky perhaps a normal, non bi-polar sibling would be fanfreakingtastic.
This afternoon as I was returning from town with my brother and listening to him rant on and on and on about business that simply wasn’t his but really my mom’s, I thought to my inner self that stays super inner when he is in town, “This is like being pelted in a month long sandstorm as I stand naked and bloodied while the granules embed themselves in my raw, open sores. When will the storm end?” The thing is is that it doesn’t and it won’t. Ever. Bi-polar people who choose not to medicate or to self-medicate are forever the storm. It just depends on whether or not those of us surrounding them choose to wear sturdy armor or allow ourselves to be scarred.
So after pondering it all I did the only thing I could. I went out and bought king crab legs to celebrate Cassidy’s conquering of the second quarter of fifth grade. It seemed better than bitching and far tastier than the un-fun Lenten Friday stew my mom had brewed up.