Lost Trust

February 27, 2012
By , Grand Rapids, MI
"You can't just leave me!" I shout to the receding back of my mother. She waves her hand as if she's shooing a fly away, and I wonder how she can just leave without saying goodbye, and without caring.
The people around me are in different states of shock. A woman and her child are frozen in their seats, the mother with a cold fury in her eyes, the kid with a confused look written across his face. The woman who is overseeing visiting has her mouth open in a surprised state of shock, and I hope she closes her mouth soon before drool starts to seep out from it.
Other than those three people, along with my mother and I, the visiting room is deserted. No one gets visitors on a Thursday afternoon generally, according to Tye who is in charge of me for the day, and I'm lucky to have a parent who cares enough to drive all the way out here to see me.
My mother was not here to see me. She was here to let out her fury at me. Hugs are allowed in the visiting room, as long as supervision there, but when I tried to hug my mother, she back away and gave me a cold stare.
I sit down next to her and she instinctively moves as far away as the seat allows her to away from me. I feel a little stab of hurt that she would do that, after all, she is my mother.
"So," she says, her voice with a slight mocking tone. "I came here to discuss things with you."
"Okay," I say, unsure how to proceed.
"First, I don't want you coming home until you're cured of whatever that's making you like this." She pauses to see my reaction.
I nod, since this is an easy trade-off, though I'm a little injured by her choice of words.
"Second, I don't want you in my house if you ever are like that again."
She pauses again, and I shrug. I don't know if I could do that, but agreeing is the best thing to do at the moment.
"And third, after this, we're going to change some things around with your attitude."
Okay, now I'm mad. Those words are implying that this is my entire fault, that I'm in here because I'm the cause of all this. Not her. No, she's the one who has to go through this all; she's the one who is the victim, the one who should be pitied.
Now way, b****.
"Well," I say in the calmest voice I can muster, "I think that you need to change some things too."
My mom's nostrils flare. She's now mad, and I'm glad we have the overseer because I know that if this happened at home, my mom would have started beating me.
"I think you need to stop hurting me, and stop being mean. I mean, the doctor says that it's just as much your fault as mine..." I say, but I know I've gone too far when my mom's eyes bug out, and she stands up and turns her back to me, hitching her purse up as she leaves.
"You can't just leave!" I shout, and I know that all the people around me pity me, and feel bad for me. When my mom is out the door and out of earshot, I begin to cry, big, heavy sobs, my face in my hands, just sobbing. The overseer puts her arm around me and I cry.
And that was the day I lost trust in everyone.

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