there were times when my mother needed consoling and i wouldn't. there were times when i knew what was needed to help her in the moment and i was withholding. i was frustrated / angry that she never seemed to do that for me. so we would fight. it would start with something like `get your damned mess out of the lounge'. and instead of being deferential and obedient and placating i'd do it in a spirit of defiance and silence and i'd take myself off to my room and remove myself from her presence for the rest of the night. and i'd be there in my room hurting and feeling alone. and she'd be there in her room hurting and feeling alone. and the only sort of bonding i experienced was that we were in our own unconsoled isolation side by side. and i guess i could have tried going in to see her and consoling her... but i guess i had also learned that it didn't really work. she would get suspicious that i was being nice to her because i wanted something from her... or she would simply find other things to feel upset about. like my forgetting to brush my teeth two weeks before or my needing money for school camp or... there was always something.

and so maybe that traumatic bonding is all i know.

most of my friendships used to be like that. traumatic bonding friendships. and i guess we both needed each other to be dragged down and to stay down in order to feel bonded. our unconsolable depression and our joint efforts towards making suicide pacts were the only source of bond we could enjoy. i don't do that anymore. not as blatently, anyway... but meaningful happy connections do elude me...