It’s Tortilla Time| Hi I’m Tori and this is my Story

…as to why my weekend was so incredibly shitty.

My friend possesses serious psychological issues due to the fact that her biological mother abused drugs whilst pregnant with her. These issues have landed my friend in several facilities for troubled teens, none of which have made an ounce of improvement in her behaviour. It is important to note that Tammy has been my friend since the age of three; I consider her one of my best friends. Although she can sometimes be difficult to understand and be around, I try not to let her issues get in the way of our friendship.

In addition to said issues, Tammy is also bipolar. Her adoptive mother is bipolar. Thus, their arguments can become heated and even violent within a matter of mere seconds. The results are inflated further when Tammy is not taking her medication.

At the resort this weekend I was caught in between a complete and utter blowout. The room was trashed; glasses were thrown and shattered, hair was pulled, blood was present. There was slapping, pushing, fierce screaming and enough swearing to make even the most profane sailors blush. Management had to come to the room on account of several noise complaints.

And I was caught in the middle.

‘Tori, didn’t Tammy say this?‘ ‘Tori, did I ever say that?‘ ‘Tori, come with me.‘ ‘Tori, go calm Tammy down.’

It was horrid. And to make matters worse, I had Tammy’s nine year old sister weeping into my arm over the entire ordeal. She told me that this is a daily occurrence.

Tammy snapped her mother’s glasses in half. Her mother demolished Tammy’s earphones. Shards of glass lined the floor. I felt as though I was a guest on Jerry Springer; Tammy and her mother were both crying hysterically and screaming at each other at a noise calibre beyond what I had previously thought was humanly possible.

After what seemed like an eternity spent duelling, I was at last given a ride home. The universe possesses a great fondness of causing me misery, so of course there was a traffic jam that left us sitting still for close to two hours.

Two solid hours of pure tension lingering in the car. The tension could have been cut with a pair of scissors, seriously.

The whole experience was slightly traumatizing to me. I find it difficult to sleep. The words spewed were so hateful and malicious. I couldn’t fathom saying some of those things to another human being, let alone my own mother. I couldn’t find it in my soul to say them even to she-who-shall-not-be-named. It was that bad.

As soon as I was lucky enough to enter my home, I hugged my mum and wished to not let go. I am very fortunate that that hostile environment was so foreign to me. I have a new found appreciation and adoration for my family.