Going down to Port Jervis sucks the energy from me. The drive down is long no matter what way we take, though we've found a better route down that bypasses PA completely (I-86/NY-17 all the way down to exit 104, then NY-17B, then NY-42 aaaaaall the way into Port Jervis) that is only a few minutes longer, maybe. And we get to go through areas of NYS that we wouldn't normally (and lose all cell signal upon entering Orange County from Sullivan County, because that's the sticks, I guess, of Orange County). It's a bit more direct that way and it avoids the Mid-Delaware Bridge (they're doing shit with it so traffic would be a nightmare).

There was no one parked on the street. I don't think anyone was home at #3 or #7 (the houses on either side). The house looks virtually the same as it always does. There were two pieces of mail in the mailbox, both addressed to my wife lol. One was a credit card offer (junk mail basically) and the other was from Bon Secours/Westchester Medical, notifying her that our doctor was leaving the WMC medical group and all of our medical shit would be transferred to the doctor they'd listed, or whatever one we opted for if we didn't want that one. Which we wouldn't, because we try to avoid male doctors when we can, and also, we no longer live in the area, so it doesn't matter. Up here we can choose between Guthrie Clinic and Arnot Health. Down there...you're stuck with Westchester Medical. We would've been fucked.

Luckily we're not, because we no longer live down there. We were on the "Just Visiting" side of the JAIL space on a Monopoly board.

So in we went. Reluctantly.

( Read more... )

No, I don't feel sad.
I don't feel remotely melancholy.
It's an anger that's tinged with resentment over you,
burned out husk of a creature
black leathery wings that smell of gasoline and fire
everything you touch burns and melts to the ground
some sort of sludgy substance.

happy mother's day in hell
enjoy the fire and brimstone
as the ash and soot consumes your body
to match the darkness of your soul.

I know tomorrow might not be easy for you...considering you lost your mother...

This is actually my second Mother's Day without her. I did nothing last year after she refused to acknowledge my birthday with anything more than a hastily scribbled note on the fridge white board. No card, no gift (like cheap chocolate or something else cheap), nothing. Said everything without even opening her mouth what she thought about me.

So, to pay her back in kind, I did nothing for Mother's Day. I'd thought about getting her a card but when they all talk about sacrifices made and cherished memories and love all wrapped up in some grotesquely saccharine mass-produced Hallmark card, I wanted to fucking vomit. To watch people bring these cards to self check or one of the lanes I was at caused bile to rise. Most people have good mothers who deserve flowers and a card, but not mine.

It would be one gigantic farcical lie in a too expensive card if I bought one. So I didn't. I didn't buy chocolates or any gift either. I was in my villain era now, beyond the "I should be a good kid and do nice things for Mommy" thoughts that were tied up in fear and obligation and guilt. Not to mention it was Serena's first one without Eileen (her mother). So neither of us felt like doing anything.

I'm sure Egg was sore about it. I wish I could say I cared. None of the cards or the gifts meant anything except obligation anyway. Emptiness.

( Read more... )

hello from my bed, the one i've only left periodically today for reasons like needing the bathroom or going downstairs to the kitchen to scrounge for food only to just grab a banana and reluctantly scarf it down. my back hurts so I have to type this on my Chromebook from some really weird angle and I doubt downward dog is good for my neck in this situation but it's all we have

I have things I want to do like write and exercise and maybe actually have food but I have a big fat zero for motivation to actually do anything. we have leftovers but I would have to figure out what to do with said leftovers and yes, I realise I am awful at remembering things like eating more than just one medium sized banana and two bars of chocolate.

I tried writing fic because I have ideas for things, you know, but after two sentences my inspiration and motivation both die at the same time and though I try to keep going, it doesn't work and just ends up being word vomit and though Heero would be the type to have moments of just vomiting letters onto a page, I doubt that would be most of his writing. Heero in a lot of aspects is a lot more concise than me. I want him to talk about all the death in his life but the words dry up faster than I can write them, the pool completely gone leaving cracks in the clay leftover.

maybe I need a change in how I express myself. I used to use all sorts of media for this, not just words but also pictures. I used to use paint. I used to do watercolour. I wrote music composed on the keys of my piano where I would write down all the notes and the octaves before writing it on staff paper. and then tweak it and tweak it. I used to do collage but I left most of my magazine clippings behind because I didn't feel they were necessary. I can print pictures off the internet if I really want to.

grief sucks.

my wife's workplace knows nothing and I prefer it that way. I don't need her to tell me, "Alice and Susan wanted me to tell you they're sorry for your loss" and I don't know how to accurately describe how something like that makes me feel because did I really even lose anything? Is it a loss if I never had it? My mother died but I never had a mother, this archetypal figure who cradles babies to her bosom and sings sweet lullabies when you're a baby and is always there for comfort no matter how old you get is not what I was given.

one comment I read described losing your parents as a "rite of passage" that happens when you're older. define "older". I was 10 when I lost my father and 32 when I lost my mother. Is that "older"? Most people are in their 50s and 60s with both parents still. Is this something I'm supposed to check off Life's Checklist? Like how I was supposed to be married before 25 and have a house by 30?

another waxed poetic about how losing a mother is such an awful thing and mothers are a blessing and I have to resist the urge to laugh and say, "You've never met mine."

the assumption is that every mother is a good one.
the assumption is that I was just a bad kid somehow.
"I bet you miss her." No, I don't.
"I bet you regret not re-establishing contact with her." No, I don't.
Even if I did and even if I wanted to...what would that even accomplish?

Today, as I set out for Port Jervis, my mind filled with questions, I was certain I was going to get at least some answers, right? Walk through the door and see obvious signs, right? Scorch marks or something burned or something. Something.

Instead I'm left with more questions and no answers.

The house looks completely untouched. It also looks like it hasn't been lived in for months, which I expected for the second floor because...it hasn't been occupied for four months. And going through the upstairs, even though I knew I wouldn't find anything, felt surreal. Everything was gone, obviously. Even the one door was replaced. The only signs that I was once ever there were the stick on mirrors and the wall decals. It was hard to believe I once lived here.

Downstairs things felt...weird. Off. All four of us (my brothers, myself, and my wife) searched for clues. Things we may have missed. We found a couple of things outside the house, bits of burnt clothing. A sock nearly burnt completely into cinders, the other one not nearly so bad. Nothing in the house has any signs of ever being on fire. Everything is in its place. The only addition was a candle and some matches. But this candle was never used, the wick never lit, and no soot or anything around the rim of the glass from lighting it. There were three used matchsticks in the lid of the candle.

But the candle had never been lit. Maybe she'd tried to light it but struggled with the matches. Maybe they didn't last long enough to get it to the candle. Maybe the head of one of the matchsticks fell on her without her noticing and smouldered without her knowing until it caught fire where she sat.

But there would be obvious signs of that on her chair. There was nothing.

It's like this event that shouldn't have happened, did. And no one has any idea how. There have been cases where people do spontaneously combust if the conditions are right. But were the conditions right?

Was this a genuine accident or was it something darker? Because of the events of the past year, police say it's something darker. But I find it really hard to believe because even as fucked up as she was, I don't know why anyone, but especially her, would choose that method.

It's sad. It really is. Regardless of the how or the why it's a terrible situation no matter how you cut it. I don't know what would be worse: it being an accident or it being on purpose. I feel they might be equal for similar reasons.

Imagine just wanting to light a candle and some tragic accident happening.

This is cruel for the universe, in my opinion. Too cruel. No one deserves to go that way. Not even my worst enemy.

One could say I still don't have the words, but here we are.

I sat here for a...while. Wondered, Where do I even start? and How do I even start?

Well. I guess from the beginning. Where I got the phone call from Bon Secours and the very bored sounding receptionist or whatever left a voicemail asking for me by my (dead) name saying to call him back at the number he rattled off. Which I didn't. Because I am not the medical affairs person, the emergency contact person for this woman I've cut out of my life 124 days ago. I even held the screen up to Theresa to show her. Why are these people calling me?

So I texted my brother. I got a response I didn't expect, and quite frankly who could've expected this anyway?

"She was in a fire. They don't expect her to make it."

A fire? Like, flames and smoke and singed objects? That kind of fire? I was thinking "house fire", especially since Egg had talked about wanting to set the house on fire on more than one occasion. I thought, Maybe she actually did it. There would be a news article or something on the Whatnots about it. So I had my wife check the Whatnots, and the different fire call FB pages for that area, like Orange County NY Fire Calls and Orange and Rockland Fire. And sure enough, written on Orange County NY Fire Calls was the following:

City of Port Jervis Fire | Person on Fire on the Sidewalk | New St
21:18
OCFC 1

I immediately said nothing as I stared at my phone.
Speechless.
What do you even say?
There were no tears, there was nothing.
I've already grieved for the mother I should've had and deserved. I've already grieved this woman and the fact that she could never find it in her to be those things to me.
But I'd be lying if I said I felt anything, because I don't. All I feel is a numbness with the teensiest tiniest bit of guilt. Guilt at leaving, at walking away from her.

Maybe part of me was expecting to get news like this. News that she's more or less dying. I especially expected it after I found out that she was now partially blind. But I wasn't expecting fire to ever be part of this equation. What I suspect is self-immolation. But I don't know. I wasn't there and who knows what they even suspect. She was on fire, I guess she wandered out of the house screaming because fire hurts and hurts bad, and one of the neighbours heard and called it in. That's just what I'm assuming.

I don't have any idea what to feel. Or even write. What do you, in this situation, jot down in the form of letters that eventually become words and those words become sentences? I don't know. I don't have it in me to cry. Like I said, I grieved this person before she was even dead, and that person wasn't even Egg.

Grief involves love that now has nowhere to go but I don't have love for her. It's indifference. And that might be why I don't have much to say and no tears to shed. How can you love someone who already abandoned you long ago in all the ways that you needed someone there? Whenever I needed a mom, I never had one. I had friends' moms, but I personally didn't have one, just this nasty, horrible woman who called herself by a title she didn't earn.

I have a missed call from Rob because my phone is on Do Not Disturb from midnight until 730a. But I did get a text that they're transferring her to a different hospital. Part of me wonders why but I guess they have to try and say they did everything they could. I just want this whole fucking thing over and done with. I hope she's disinherited me so I don't have to deal with anything. Because I don't want to deal with her fucking bullshit.

Got woken up from a dead sleep by Egg screaming that "I need to come down and help" her because she's "having a mental breakdown!!!!11"
"Are you a medical professional? An EMT? Paramedic?"
No, no, and no.
"Then why was she asking you for help?"
To trip my (non-existent) guilt, baby~ That's why.

I told her: "call 911."
Egg said: "no, I want you to come down here and help me!"
so then H grabbed the landline we had upstairs because that's where the modem is and said, "I'm calling 911" in a voice that said I am so fucking done with your bullshit.

male dispatcher: orange county emergency dispatch, do you have an emergency?
H: Yeah, I do.
dispatch: okay.
H: My mother is screaming and crying, yelling about how she is in some sort of mental distress.
dispatch: oh! are you able to go to where she is and check on her?
H: Unfortunately no, I don't feel safe around her at this time.
dispatch: okay, not a problem. are emergency services able to come in through the door?
H: She should be able to let them in.
dispatch: okay, can I have your address?
H: It's # ### Street in Port Jervis.
dispatch: okay. And a telephone number in case I need to call you back?
H: 845-XXX-XX48.
dispatch: alright. I have a cruiser on the way to your location, they should be arriving shortly.
H: Great. Thank you.

He then went out in the hall after hanging up and said, "I've called for EMS, they should be here shortly."
Egg, of course, said nothing, because that's probably not what she wanted to happen lol but my protector alter wasn't going to have us go down there when there was no time for any sort of OPSEC or, you know, optics. So.

I need to point out that Egg will do this at like 6AM on days where we have to work like two or three hours later, probably expecting me to then call out and ride with her on a rig or something to the hospital holding her hand and going, "It's okay, Eggikins! You'll be safe!" like a father to their inconsolable three year old child who is afraid of getting a tetanus shot for her boo-boo. When we fucking told you we weren't fucking around anymore.

Thankfully we didn't have to leave until later, so we could go back to sleep for a bit.

I've told her repeatedly that I am not able to help her or talk her through anything because I am not a mental health professional of any stripe. I've done a fuckton of reading and research when it comes to psychology but I don't have any degrees and even less training so what did she expect?
(Probably holding hands and singing Kumbaya as she """sobbed""" pitifully at the state of our family.)

She was really insistent on us going down the stairs but H said, "Absolutely not" and so I stayed upstairs with my wife and two cats. Just fucking bizarre. How did I know she wasn't waiting at the bottom of the stairs with a knife tucked behind her back so she could do us bodily harm? I didn't. So we stayed put.

they did send someone out, two cops (a man with a nice tat sleeve clearly visible and the woman from yesterday). Egg didn't fight them (that would've been stupid). she answered all their questions and agreed to be examined at Bon Secours...so they took her there. which is great. Honestly, she needs to be somewhere better than some dumpy community hospital, like an assisted living facility of some stripe where she can get all the tools she needs.

but we all know, of course, that's not where she's going to end up right now.

I regret not doing this last month when she pulled this exact same thing. but I told her yesterday that I'm not fucking around anymore and that she needs help that I cannot give her. because of her actions, we do not feel safe here, and will need to look into different living accommodations—rent an apartment or a house or something, because this isn't sustainable for the longer term at this point. we have to be out of here before this year ends.

H did say yesterday, after we got upstairs from the fucking blow out that'd happened, "I wonder if she'll attempt something tomorrow?" Serena wondered the same thing. Guess we know the answer to that now.

onto the meat of this, I guess. that little "why?" Why did she do what she did today? was it an attempt to manipulate me once more so that I would apologise for calling 5-0? maybe. did she want me to apologise for putting her through all of this stress? likely. she said something similar to what she had on 2 March, except instead of "I tried to kill myself" it was "I'm having a breakdown!" and unlike the last time, where everyone froze and tried to figure out how to safely assess the situation...H called it in. you can only fake suicide or some other mental health crisis so many times before it just gets taken seriously every time—and the police and EMTs end up repeatedly making themselves an addition to the household with how often they drop by. it is a boy who cried wolf situation now.

some might call me coldhearted. I'm numb, emotionally. Completely detached, emotionally. I am using the coping mechanisms I had to develop in order to deal with this freak of nature. I don't know what to feel or how to feel it if I'm honest. I've never been able to focus on my own emotions, it was always a focus on whatever Egg needed. Everyone else was responsible for emotional regulation, which in turn leads to disregulated children who grow up into disregulated adults.

I would like to think she'll be under some kind of psychiatric hold. That's my hope at least. she needs a psych eval and new medications because this cannot continue. like I'm sorry (not sorry) the truth hurt your fee-fees, Eggipoo but the reality is... The abuse and the bullshit she's put me through for most of my life and especially the last couple of months is completely unacceptable. She has made this house a living fucking hellish nightmare no one can awake from. and when I tell people outside the house what's going on, they are appalled. They can't comprehend it. it almost sounds made up and like I've written an almost cartoonishly ghoulish villain for an antagonist.

I wish that was the case.

The trust? Broken.
Will I ever feel safe around her again? No.
I don't want to be in the same dwelling as her.
She needs to not live here anymore, she needs to be in a care facility. Especially since the way she's going physically and mentally, she's going to need that sooner rather than later anyway, so she may as well start thinking about it. Except she won't, because the only plan she has in mind involves me being her live-in nurse, changing her adult diapers and powdering her ass. Which I would never do for anyone. I would instead hire the best fucking nurse to do that instead. That's what that retirement money is for.

Serena and I will be leaving here. Not now, unfortunately, but within the next few months. Things are in motion. For the sake of my own mental health I can't stay here. I'd rather jump off the bridge tbh and I don't think anyone would blame me. I also won't give Egg the pleasure of being able to pull the Grieving Widow and Grieving Mother cards.

There is no chance at forgiveness. No one can ever expect me to forgive someone who has:
* abused me more or less my entire life
* abused my brother more or less his entire life
* doesn't give a fuck about any of her three kids and one could argue, her one grandkid
* treats the neighbourhood kids like they're miniature criminals

And the most unforgiveable:
* abuses my wife

naaaaaah fuck that.

UPDATE [18:03]:
*drags in a chair, flips it so it's backwards, and sits on it like it's the gelding about to ride us off to war*
*or maybe it's the chair version of Epona, who knows*

okay.
so.
bon secours sent this bitch home.

*rubs face*

so guess who got a phone call like. 45 minutes before the end of my work shift today?
*points index finger at nose*
that's right! meeeeeeeeeee. ore daaaaaaaaa. mochiron ore da, dare da ka??? *crosses arms* why am I doing it like this is an anime? because I feel like my life is one of those slice-of-life comedy animanga series where the protagonist has a whole bunch of bullshit happen to them for no fucking reason, that's why.

I fucking pressed the active line's button on the phone and had to pull the receiver away from my ear after I said, "Hello?" and even Cherie looked at me like "what the fuck" because Eggberta decided to shriek her demands.

"YOU NEED TO CALL YOUR WIFE AND TELL HER TO LET ME IN BECAUSE YOU LOCKED ME OUT OF THE HOUSE!!!!1111"

no I didn't I didn't expect you home so why the fuck would I have left the door unlocked it's not my fault you didn't bring a key you dingbat
did you really expect me to leave the door unlocked when the only one home was my wife (upstairs) and our two cats (also upstairs)?? what if someone broke in? Port Jervis isn't that safe. like get over yourself.

So I told Cherie I had to make a phone call to my wife because of a family emergency and so I did. I called her in the break room just like, "So Egg needs the door unlocked and is saying you won't let her in or whatever."
"I didn't hear her the first time, I wasn't expecting her back!"
"Me neither!"
"I had my earbuds in because I wasn't expecting her to start screaming anything I needed to listen out for. Now I'm an anxious mess."
"Do you need me home?"
"Can you?"
"I can tell them I gotta go."
"Okay."

so I did. It was only like a half hour. H thought it was an hour but it was only like a half hour by the time we got through the bullshit with Egg on the phone and then me talking with my wife and then of course I had to go to the bathroom and scream in Discord for a bit and D and H were like "what the fuck why is she coming home????"

"karu, why did they send her home?"
fuck if I know, Bon Secours fucking sucks. like I wish I had something better to say, but I don't, so there you go.

we drove home and there was Egg, who was like "she finally let me in" or whatever and she launched into this WHOLE THING that H didn't even care about and he needed to make some stupid copy of her meds or whatever. and then Egg started chirping (not like hockey chirping). turns out they released her and referred her to some mental health clinic downtown on Pike Street somewhere and there was this packet of papers she had to fill out for it and everything. so her and H went back and forth back and forth. he even went all Dad on her which was hilarious.

anyway Egg was like "I want forgiveness and things to go back to normal like they were" and H was like "we can't go back to normal, that's impossible now." the amount of damage she's caused to what little parent-child relationship existed is irreparable and irreversible. and then because I believe H shouldn't be the only one having fun, I ended up fronting just so I could call her out some more on her fucking bullshit.

I told her Serena and I were going to be leaving. Egg tried to trip ALL my guilts!
"what'll happen to me?"
"you can't leave me here by myself"
"how will I get things?"
"I need you, I depend on you"
"I'll starve to death"
"what about getting copies of things?"
"I don't know how to do these things so I need you—"

yadda yadda yadda blah blah bluh am I supposed to find it in me to feel bad for someone who put herself in this situ-fucking-ation???? that's a you problem, not a me problem or even a we problem a YOU Y-O-U PROBLEM

I will do what I think is best for myself and my wife. If that means you're left in the rear-view, guess what? you're getting left! be! hind!

AND SO THE FIRST THING OUT OF HER MOUTH post-my declaration more or less of freedom I guess: "Well, I'll have to make some changes to things, and leave it all to RM."

do you think that's going to hurt me? do you even know who I am, Eggberta???
I'm a fucking Yuy.
You think I'm gonna be wounded??
ore??? 
jodan shitaku nee!
warattana! 
onoɽre! kiisama wa totemo omoshiɽroi na! you think I'm gonna just roll over and go "oh I sowwy, mommy, don't disown me pweeeeease"???
I'm not the dog nor am I the tail that the dog wags when his master comes through the fucking door.
go ahead and disown me. 
nan demo ii ze. suki ni shiɽro! 
I'll fucking beat you to the punch and declare myself an orphan before you're even dead.

you're really funny, Eggberta. too bad I hate the cut of your jib.

what Egg was actually saying, outside of the whole "I'd disown you" thing is:
"If you leave me, you're no longer my child."
"If you don't get back under my control, I'm disowning you."
fine then. I'm not falling back in line. once Pandora's jar gets knocked over and broken open, you can't unbreak it.

why am I not surprised? because the bitch chose money over her son. so why would I be surprised???

I will leave y'all with what H said after everything:

"She basically wanted you dead and then you proved yourself 'useful' to her, so you being gone would be this awful thing. Now that you're no longer useful to her, she's ready to discard you like yesterday's garbage. You're back to being dead to her."

Guess what? She's dead to me too. Fuck her.

it's been 115 days 3 hours and 21 minutes (as of me beginning to type this) since I've gone no contact with Egg. That was the last time I spoke to her and that was the last time I saw her. it's been strange and it's been kind of messy, especially lately. like today is my nan's birthday, and I highly doubt that Egg cares even though it's her own mother.

my body is a joke at the best of times and a horrific punchline at the worst. it likes to betray me at every turn. my mind is much the same. I could be fine one minute and not the next and I won't know until it happens. most days I'm able to leave the bedroom and be productive on the computer and spend time with Tish on my lap and then there are days like today where I can leave bed in small spurts but then have to retreat because everything hurts too much and I'm too tired to do much. sometimes I forget to eat. sometimes I don't bother eating because I'm too tired and the only one responsible for me and feeding me is me and some days I'm just not motivated enough to care if this vessel is fed and watered.

though if anything i'll at least end up watered because I always have water by my bed.

there are going to be days where I want to disappear for a while or for good because i'm always going to be low-key suicidal and if you've seen the kind of life I've lived up until six months ago you would feel the same way. I trawl support subreddits and watch YouTube videos and Facebook Reels on narcissism where people who understand what this is all like can gather to commiserate. I feel like sometimes I focus on it too much. so I try not to. I try to visit those places less.

i've been writing fic. melee academy. integrating the soldier and the boy. whatever. I don't post most of my GW fanfiction because what is the point. it's harder and harder to even write Heero anymore and it's not that I don't have the passion for the character, because I do. and it's not that I've forgotten how to write him, because I haven't. I need to do canon review. I keep putting it off. I keep avoiding it. I have to be in the right headspace for it and I'm not, unfortunately.

115 days is a long time...

Today is our shopping day and as we were going over last minute additions and whatever else we may need (more kitten food, more tendies, more soda, etc), I added to the list "something nice for Sunday" (for dinner and dessert).

What's so special about tomorrow? It's 2 March!

Whenever I needed help from the day I was born I would say up until that moment, March 2nd. That I asked for help and I didn’t get it.
I remember that fateful day. March 2nd. She announced that she wasn’t gonna do it. And that I’d have to get a taxi or an uber or something.
Well then on March 2nd I had that incident and they came down and all and she said, you know, that she wasn’t gonna do it, that I would have to take an Uber or a taxi or something.
And then SHE had to come into the picture. Which it was fine until like I said, March 2nd and then shit hit the fan and that was it.
And it’s a shame, once Serena came into the picture—I mean it was good until, you know, it wasn’t. March 2nd is when it all went south. It all. went. south. Now. All because she didn’t do the right thing. She offered—n-no she didn’t offer, I had asked her, ‘cause <Name> said [they] couldn’t do it because [they have] this “chronic fatigue” crap.

It's the day we had enough and decided to start preparing for our escape from our toxic situation. It was the day that a last ditch manipulative suicide attempt ended with us agreeing we needed to plan getting out. Not just for the sake of us but also for the sake of our marriage.

It took almost 8 months for us to find a new place we could call our safe harbour and another month for us to start living there whilst grappling with grief not just over this but also losing our sweet Sadie.

It was a very long, very frustrating, very maddening ride filled with tears of frustration and anger and grief. But we made it through to the other side. There are still some challenges of course because that's basically life. There will always be obstacles both big and small. My marriage has never been better.

I didn't decide to go no contact on a whim. I initially didn't want to even cut contact when the time came but the situation left me no choice. In going through old journal entries I'd rediscovered that I'd been trying to get away since I was 18 but was never able to, and had plans to go no contact once I was because of how badly I was taken advantage of and manipulated. This was something I'd sat on for 14 years.

Going no contact with a parent hurts more than people realize. It isn't an easy thing. It's actually the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I already have a parent who is deceased and now I have to do this. Children are wired to love their parents unconditionally and that guilt eats away and it eats away more at me because I was conditioned to always feel bad for not meeting someone else's needs.

Parents are supposed to unconditionally love their kids in return and I don't think in this situation that is the case. Why would you treat your kids this way if you did? The aim was always to be cruel, to say things that were nasty and manipulative. No one who loves their children would ever be purposely cruel to them.
And yet...

Tomorrow is That Fucking Woman Day, named after a line Egg has said a few times in reference to my wife (my name and pronouns corrected because Egg only ever used my deadname and the pronounces matching my birth sex):
[Karu]’s got [their] obligation to that fucking woman now. But what about me? Now I’m all lonely and all by myself.

And we are going to celebrate it because it was the day we opened our eyes and finally awakened.