My mother thinks I'm breaking up with her

So, yesterday was Mother's Day! How nice. My dad bought flowers that Kylie and I pretended to have picked out for her, I made her favorite kind of cookies because I was craving them but didn't say anything, and, oh yeah, we got in a huge fight.

The thing is, I had no idea we were fighting.

I stayed, aside from going downstairs to eat/make food, in my room all day, as I have for the past four days since returning from the hospital. My head hurt, and due to various side effects from various new medications*, I sleep for at least 16 hours a day now. Anyway, Sunday. At lunch, when seated with my family, my father kept asking me questions about how I felt. Not, "Does your head still hurt?", but "What emotion are you feeling right now?". Gee, Dad, how about "Pissed off"? This is because, since returning home, my father is convinced that I am suicidal, depressed, and made up my heart condition and seizures to, I don't know, why would I make that up? So all he had done was ask me, "How are you doing... emotionally, I mean?".

Here I must deviate again, so that you understand why this question, coming from him, pisses me off. We are WASPs. We don't hug. We don't even brush shoulders when we sit next to each other on the couch. I haven't told my parents that I loved them since I was six years old. We are cold, socially akward, WASPs. We DO NOT talk about our feelings. We don't talk about anything but work, school, redecorating, and the occasional anecdote. Now, when my father thinks I'm going to kill myself and faked unconciousness that resulted in a four-day hospital stay and the discovery of a medical condition that caused my unconciousness (yeah Dad. Just kidding! My heart didn't really stop beating during that test, I faked it!Haha!), now, he wants me to show some emotion.

So I was mad at him. And so I mumbled "fine" and continued eating. My head hurt, still, and so conversation, especially this one, was not really something I wanted to take part in. I sat in silence, save for a few good-natured remarks about my sister's lack of aptitude in the area of handling cutlery, but they just my usual, sarcastic, well-recieved bits. You know, like, "Kylie, unlike the Spainish members of the royal court in the sixteenth century, you should by now be familiar with the fork and how to use it, as it is no longer classifiable as a new invention". Stuff like that. Kylie doesn't recognize it as nasty or intentionally harmful, nor does anyone else who at all knows me. My mother though, couldn't take it. Sheleft her plate, half un-eaten, and went upstairs to cry.

Unaware of why she left, I continued eating, then went back to my room to sleep for four more hours. All this time, I had absolutely no idea that she was upset. The only thing that could have created friction between us in the past day or so was an incident on Saturday night, in which I had an episode, passed out in the living room, and came to while she was yelling at me for sleeping with my face in a book. Confused and shakey, I started crying, she yelled at me for sleeping on my face and crushing my glasses, my father came in, knew that I had been unconcious and not sleeping, and told my mother to calm down. He asked me if I was stressed, because he thinks I have episodes on purpose to be excused from my responsibilities. I said yes, because after awaking to my mother literally yelling in my face for sleeping, when I had absolutely done nothing wrong, I was kind of stressed. I told him this. He said, "I know, but your mother just was stressed so she started yelling. This whole business of yours has been very hard on her, you know." And so, choosing to ingnore his talk of "this business" of mine, and just how hard my medical woes, including chonic pain that triggers my heart condition, was on her, I nodded and wobbled upstairs to my room, to sleep.

Apparntly this was our falling out. I had no other incident or words to go on, when Sunday evening my father approached me and asked "Are you mad at your mother?". I answered no, out of honesty, though I cannot say my voice was not tense with resraint. I had had it with his attempts at a heart-to-heart, and was trying not to let my anger towards him blow up into something unmanagable. "Well, then," he said. "Are you being mean to her for a reason?"
"What?"
"ARe you purposefully being mean to her on Mother's Day for a reason?"
"What did I do?!?"
"All right."
"What???"
And he got up and left the room.

My mother has not spoken to me since. She only gives pained looks, and turns away at the sight of me, then goes to read her eight or so "Thinking of you" and "I'm here for you in these hard times" greeting cards from friends. (NOTE: I have two get-well cards. I don't want more, but, why does she have eight?)

So that's it, kind of. My mother is mad at me, I'm mad at my father, and I can't leave the house for another week. Oh, and did I mention she's having her friend babysit me? Anyhow, life kind of sucks here, with the exception of feta, but I'm dealing with it.

*Um, I was going to go into it, but it's too long. Another post, guys, another post...