Logan Kenny’s review published on Letterboxd:
full disclosure, i did not rewatch mommy. this is not about the movie.
i don't know how to start this one. it's been so long since i've done this, written from the heart, laid my soul out for consumption. in case you don't remember or this was before your time with me, i wrote things like these before, about depression and suicide and coming out, battling with my issues as a struggling kid not sure who he was or what he was going to be, if anything at all. a kid who didn't know if he was going to make it through the day let alone the year. lots of time has passed since those days, been nearly two years now but feels like a lifetime ago, since then i have written about my aunt dying and my ex abusing me and have used this site as a way to explore my own ideologies and ways of viewing people and art, i have changed my style of writing to try and fit with how i see the world and have tried to move away from the things that didn't grasp me, that didn't make me want to bleed onto the texts. i have written with love, with hope, with sadness and scorn and fucking misery and today i write with nothing but an ache, an ache that consumes and haunts every facet of my being, an ache that has dominated so much of my life and has now expanded so greatly that it is inescapable and all consuming. this ache has been around in some form for the two times that i was in love, the times when i was sick, when i was better, when i was dealing with a resurgence of stress and anxiety, when i was starting to go to therapy, this ache has controlled me and broken me to the point where i feel like everything is just too goddamn hard, where having a fucking meltdown feels like the end of the world every time. i don't know how to start this. there will be no paragraphs here, no capital letters, you should all expect that by now but this is certainly no exception. i do not care about legibility, this is not for you. i am sharing it here out of hope that it will help me, like the old ones used to even when they tore me apart. this ache was my mother. we've had a complicated relationship throughout my life, she looked after me throughout the majority of my early childhood since my dad was always at work, she helped me through traumatic portions of my childhood and helped me learn how to cope with my condition when i was officially diagnosed at the age of 11. she was there for me when i cried, when i struggled, when i hurt myself or when i couldn't get through the day anymore. i don't know what changed. my parents split up years ago, october 2014, the day it happened i saw the TMNT remake and thought it was awful, a few hours later my world imploded and i was left sobbing past midnight on my old trampoline. she moved out eventually, took her a while to get me adjusted with the situation and then i was split between two houses. my dad made sure to spend more time with me, focus on our relationship, to make up for some of the lost time i guess and to make sure that i knew that he wasn't going anywhere, that he would never leave me alone to suffer. three years later, and he's still here, he makes the occasional mistake and can frustrate me like any parent can but he holds me when i need it, has listened to what i've told him about meltdowns and is always there for me, no matter what. even though he doesn't understand the meltdowns, he knows that i can't control them and will do anything to make sure i am as good as i can be, the meltdowns aren't so bad when i'm with him. my mum is different, she's always been an emotional person but in recent years, whenever i started to melt down she would lose her control, lose her temper, would scream at things and at me even when i told her that i couldn't deal with the noise and the anger, watched and heard as she hit things in front of me, hit herself and threatened to do it more if i didn't stop doing something i couldn't control, then guilted me into being the one to look after her. she did this often and it always made things worse, every fucking time, she would amplify them and cause them to become seismic. i told her for two years what i needed, how i couldn't deal with tone change because that made me feel like a burden and a freak especially since this was a thing i couldn't control, even though i want to, god i want to so fucking much, how i couldn't deal with her emotional state in the middle of mine fracturing and especially the threats she made, and she never changed. a few months ago, after she really reacted badly to one of mine and inflicted a whole lot of emotional pain on me (i don't even remember what the meltdown was about, just her reactions and the consequences of them) i ran away from home at 2 in the morning without my phone, without my keys and in pyjamas because she was hurting me so much i felt the need to escape. i ran out the back door, bolted down to my dad's, waited outside in the cold for half an hour before finding a way in. my dad was understanding, sympathetic and consoled and looked after me the day after, knowing what i'd been through was something immensely painful. i stayed with him for a while before the guilt started to fester in, she kept texting me about how hurt she was, about the trauma i caused her by running away and continuing to dodge actually apologising, instead making excuses and centring everything to be about her instead of her autistic son who she hurt. one day she even came down and forced me to talk to her for 30 minutes even though i was nowhere near emotionally prepared for that, and eventually guilted me into giving her another chance, promising she'd be different. she wasn't, not at all. hell a day before everything went wrong, the day before new year's she started freaking at me over the time it would take to get a pizza, stressing me out and inflicting all her frustrations on her causing me to panic and then acting so badly and nastily towards me (i was sensitive that night cause i'd had a really bad anxiety attack which she knew about) that i was left on the floor of my grandpa's office, sobbing and it took my cousin to help me be able to actually leave the house, which made me feel like a goddamn spastic in front of my whole family. she constantly made me feel bad about having meltdowns, needing things to be a certain way and not thinking about her in the process of cataclysmic emotional turmoil, and guilted me into making sure she was okay, which really broke down my mental state especially in the middle of a pretty shitty year in general. one of her main forces of emotional abuse and shit delivered straight to me was with her boyfriend. i wasn't comfortable with him, didn't like him, not because he was dating my mother but i couldn't vibe with him and he triggered my anxiety really badly. she constantly brought him in my spaces, making me feel uncomfortable in my own home, always talked about him to my face in essentially all our conversations despite explicitly knowing i struggled to be around him and always cried at me because of something i couldn't control, always made me feel like shit because i couldn't be accommodating for what she wanted. i never wanted her to be alone, i never wanted to sabotage their thing, i just couldn't handle it in my space, i just couldn't cope with it and she used that against me whenever she wanted something or felt bad. she would come in late at night feeling emotional because she couldn't be with her "darling steve" and crying into my arms, once tricked me into a 30 minute enclosed car journey with him where she insisted i didn't listen to my headphones, invalidated my emotional labour of looking after her for years in the midst of her crises and reinforced making me feel bad whenever my condition meant she couldn't have what she wanted. i don't feel comfortable in many places, and being with my mum's side of the family is one of the only times i get to be comfortable, and she wanted him to be there even when i told her i couldn't handle it. we celebrate new year's with the full family every two years since the rest of them have other families to spend time with every other year, and she knew how much i was looking forward to it and put me in an ultimatum of having her there with this man i couldn't cope with or not having her there, making it not the full family and making everyone feel sad. i told her i couldn't deal with him there, i told her so many times and i begged her to come on her own because i needed her there, that it was a rough year and a shitty christmas and i needed this one night to be as good as it could be. she put herself first and didn't come, which i dealt with and managed to enjoy the time, i celebrated in the party and had a great time with my family, playing games, dancing, laughing at how drunk they were. then my mum turned up after the bells and brought her boyfriend along, without warning me and forced me into a corner. i spiralled out of control and had to run outside and call my dad for any semblance of stability. i went back inside after 20 minutes of losing my fucking mind in the dark before going into the office which was secure. my cousin mirren came and looked after me, shared very personal things with me and had the aim of trying to make me smile which helped me calm down momentarily. after a while, she left because she had to do something but told me she'd be back soon. before she was back, my mum walked in, defended herself mercilessly, remained apathetic and at points downright nasty towards me, told me i was being stupid and watched as i spiralled and let my grandpa (who doesn't get my condition at all) shout at me for something i couldn't control, for something my mum caused. she left me there on the floor crying, filled with horror about my special night being ruined, embarrassed and humiliated, feeling like a freak, crying so much that it was degrading and feeling so awful that i wanted to die. my cousins came in after what felt like an eternity and proved themselves to be the only people in my real life who completely understand me. they held me while i cried and helped me walk because the weight of my meltdown was so bad i could barely move. the next morning, i woke up sickened and traumatised and came to the realisation, the hardest one of my life so far, that my mother was killing me, that she was breaking me apart and that i couldn't be with her anymore. i wanted to believe that i could work it out, that she'd change if i forgave her but i know she's inherently selfish, views my meltdowns as personal attacks against her, can't handle them and directs her anger towards me, that she's guilted me every time i've felt shitty and that she'd start sobbing whenever i told her that she was hurting me, that she'd shape the situation around herself and what she perceived as my wrongdoings. it doesn't matter how much she loves me, she hurt me more than she ever healed me and i can't forgive her this time, i just can't because if i do the next one is gonna fucking kill me, this one was so bad that i can't imagine anything being worse but i know it would be, it always got worse. i sent her a long message and told her i was moving out, confirmed it with my dad who was supportive and told her not to contact me. later that night when i got home my dad gave me a long talk about it, told me that it wasn't my fault, that my mum was always selfish and hasn't changed but that i have him and that he'll be there for me even though she can't be. he railed off against the boyfriend too, saying that he must have known that i'd be uncomfortable with it since my mum would have told him but went anyway, which didn't even come across at the time. it's been a few days since then, not even a week but feels like the longest time of my life. my heart is filled with pain and sorrow and my anxiety is off the charts. i've never felt so broken, weak or alone before and i hate that so many people that i love have hurt me. sometimes it's just horrible feeling the way i do, feeling everything so much and so intensely all the time, where every emotion is amplified, sometimes i wish i could just feel nothing at all. about a week before new year's i had a session with a therapist i've been seeing for a couple months for my meltdowns, and it became about her. i told him about all the shit and the struggles and the pain and started sobbing. he told me it wasn't my fault but it feels like it, it feels like it. there's no catharsis to this yet, i have so many friends but not told the full story to anyone yet, consider this to be that. people are here for me, but most of you are so far away and usually that's just an annoyance but now it feels like an infliction, and i hate it. i just don't want to feel like this anymore. what a way to start off 2018.