Ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more

by jean at 05:14 PM on September 08, 2005

Chuck Woolery asked why my parents kicked me out of my own house. The short answer is: because I was leaving.

I had mentioned that they basically gave the rest of the family 72 hours' notice on the final move date. Everyone stayed up all night the last two days. The keys were to be turned over on Thursday, September 1. I was working every day that week, but apparently my mom and dad saw no problem with it because my dad is retired and my mom took the week off. Tuesday night I went to work on 90 minutes of sleep. After work I crashed for a few hours at my friend's apartment. Wednesday morning about 1 a.m. I entered my parents' house, mad as hell but hiding it, and began to move things into my car. My dad approached me with a check for $5,000.

I turned down the check. A few weeks before, he had been yelling at me and said that he and my mother had "discovered" what I was up to, and that they were aware that I was going to leave soon for a school far away. He told me that I had a bad attitude, that I was ruining my life, and that I needed to get married fast before I did any more stupid things. He also said that he thought that I would not go, because I would not be able to get any loans. I said that I disagreed with him and that what I did with my life was not his business. I did not mention that my loan requests had already been approved.

I knew when my father offered me the check that it was meaningless gesture. He and my mother are very manipulative. When you disagree, they'll fight you tooth and nail in any kind of underhanded way they can think of. Then, when they don't win, they will act like they are resigned to your actions. Finally, after a period of superficial tranquility lasting a few or several months, they will burst into a rage and bring up disagreements which they had previously pretended were resolved.

I didn't say that, though. I just said that I couldn't accept the money. My father said that he was offering it because he was concerned for my well-being. I declined it again. Then he started yelling... he thought I was disobedient, ungrateful, and so on. I said that if he truly cared for me he would accept that I could not take his check. He yelled for me to get out and slammed the front door in my face, locking it. I pulled my key out of my pocket and unlocked it. I continued removing my possessions.

A little later my mother cornered me in the front hallway and screamed that I was a horrible person because I had caused my father to accuse her of being a bad parent. That conversation (such as it was) was maddening also. You guys probably don't want to hear the details. My mom repeated almost verbatim rants she'd given me five or ten years ago. I know because I have a good memory. She started a little power struggle because I asked her to repeat something she'd said, and she said she wouldn't say anything until I repeated it first. Like... what? What was that? Then she said that if I hated my family so much, then I should leave. She got into the master bedroom with my father and after a few more exchanges, including ones where my mother begged me to stop disagreeing lest my father have a heart attack and one where my father told my two sisters that they should not attempt to contact me because I was a bad person, they shut the door on me.

I am not convinced either of them is completely sane.

But tonight, I am going to my favorite coffeeshop and playing Scrabble with my friend. I'll say goodbye for the fifth or so time to my Los Angeles friends, and maybe, just maybe, after losing that Scrabble game (because he is better at it than I am), taking the north fork on the 10 East instead of the south fork which for fifteen years lead to my house, and shutting the door on this second-floor apartment in Pasadena, I might get some action.