It's been a month since I last blogged. Life has calmed down and changed into a lot of routine, with my studies having started again and my health being okay for now.

One emotion keeps emerging, though. A new kind of anger. It's one I haven't allowed myself to feel before, because I was so occupied with trying to make sense of bad things being my "fate" or "god's will" or whatever so they must just be accepted and "understood" and the worst thing, thanked about.

It's been about exactly a year from when I really, honestly questioned God's existence for the first time, and it's only now that this thing flashes before my mind's eye.

It's my mom. She had a sick child (my eldest bro, who's dead now) who spent all his days bullying his younger siblings, which was me and my other big brother.

When we were really little, he broke our toys and ripped our comic magazines. When older, he'd come rage right in our ears when we were trying to concentrate on our hobbies or whatever, saying the most hurtful things he could come up with (and he was surprisingly clever at that for a mentally handicapped guy). And he couldn't help it, but our mother could have.

She never wanted him to be on any medications because she "wanted him to feel everything". Even when those emotions were horrible for everyone around him and probably scary for him too. Many boys like him were living in hospitals or other homes so they wouldn't be such a burden on the family, since there was very little or practically no hope for them to be productive citizens anyway.

Why was it okay for him to feel everything and bully us from day to day, for years and years? Why did she let it happen?

Sometimes she'd have her own psychotic rage bursts and I'd run off to hide and cry. She'd snap out of it, forget what just happened, and come find me. She would ask me if I was crying because my ill brother had hurt me. Even when I'd grown up, she told me she was always terrified of him hurting us.

Then why not do a damn thing about it?

I'm trying to understand her point of view, what kind of sick logic went on in her head. I've been known to think I deserve chaos around me, and I've tested my luck/being in guidance by doing crazy, random things. I've wished to be in pain to experience God's love. I've been horrible to people for reasons I don't even know to this day, it just "felt right" to destroy budding friendships that could have been nice. Did she maybe somehow think it served her right to be in a situation where she had to fear for the well-being of two of her kids when the third one was dangerous?

I don't want to talk to her.

She is stacking apples and a little bit of cash for me when I go over, only enough to cover my expenses of the travel, so it's not like I can't do without. I don't know how I can bring myself to going anyway. I get these dreams that I'm over there and gigantic waves of water wash over the scenery, and my legs feel too heavy for me to swim.

I'm letting my anger come and go, it's no use suppressing it or trying to pretend it's wrong or means something deeper than it does. I'm observing it for what it is, or that's what I try to do anyway.

How I wish our dad had not been such a nice and emotional person. He should have taken us away from that woman. I guess he knows that.

Okay, that felt good. I'm going to try and find something nice to eat now.