October 9, 2018

If I don’t call my mom, I won’t have to know if anything else bad has happened, right? But then I leave her there, with her pain and her pile of work and worst of all, my father.

I never know what I’m supposed to do. Live my life? Live her life? Move back and help her? Move on and help myself? Call? Don’t call?

I so often choose not to call. I know. I’m the worst.

Does it get easier?

Day 121 – So tired

October 8, 2018

Bad news bears. My mom’s dog died. It’s hard to explain to people when your dog is ACTUALLY your best friend how hard this is.

It’s hard. Loss is hard.

I can’t seem to eat, drink, sleep, exercise, laugh, run, avoid, work, or beg the sadness away. How do people get out?

Day 120 – Sad Day

September 9, 2018

It takes a lot for me to admit when I’m wrong. Who wants to be wrong? Especially when I’m right all the time. Kidding… Kind of.

I did admit it, though. And I got the “well, do better next time” response. Which, fair, but frustrating. If you’re already eating crow, it’s not exactly fun to have someone twist the knife. But also, maybe I do the same thing to other people. Unsure.

One of the hardest parts about being sad all the time is not taking it out on other people. I try to keep it bottled up all the time, but if it gets out, it always lands on the people that I love the most. I SHOULD take it out on that asshole driver Mark (don’t know his name, but it could be Mark) who cut me off or that woman who couldn’t figure out how to use the credit card machine but instead I take it out on my mom. Sometimes others, but usually my mom, who doesn’t deserve it. She deserves flowers and hugs but instead she got me. Unfortunate for her.

I don’t live with her or anything, but I know how to work a phone.

Day 91 – Right is wrong

August 30, 2018

No rest for the weary. Got some tough news today from my parents. I mean, it’s not so much the news, which is simply a wait-and-see game, but it’s more the general reaction. My dad tries to control it and gets angry. My mom panics and dumps all of her worries and anxiety on me. And I try to suss out what exactly is going on while mitigating my mom’s panic and trying to get my dad to make sense/stop being angry.

All that’s to say that the grief continues. I’m very worried, but I can’t tell if I should be because my news comes secondhand either from someone who’s too angry and controlling to see what actually should be done or from someone whose anxiety is so high that she can’t think straight (or at all). So either everything is fine or nothing is. I’m not sure.

In other news, I pulled someone else’s hair out of my bathtub drain today and almost puked. Life is fun.

Day 81 – Worry Wart

July 25, 2018

I ate two desserts today. TWO. I am part of a “nutrition” group for 30 days, and today I had TWO DESSERTS. So, I’m obviously succeeding at this.

I think working out is supposed to be part of this as well. I walked about 800 steps total today, and half of those steps were to GET THE DESSERTS. Is this how everyone loses weight? This will work, right? High calorie, little to no exercise?

This sort of took the edge off being rejected from more jobs AND being told that even working for a friend FOR FREE was met with “hmmm, maybe, I’ll let you know.” Not sure why no one thinks I can do anything useful, but I need to find a way to show people that I know what I’m doing because I don’t know if you know this, but it’s hard to live on zero dollars of income a month.

Everyone (my mom) is ready for me to get a job, especially me (my mom) because if I don’t, I’ll have to live with my family (my mom) and I will not be able to survive that (my mom). So here’s to finding something!

Day 45 – Eating my feelings of rejection

July 13, 2018

Well, wasn’t today just spit on your neck, kick you in the throat fantastic? What age were you when you realized that you were a complete and utter disappointment even though you’d done absolutely everything you could not to be one? You went to college, graduated at the top of your class, worked hard, saved money, made good friends, took care of yourself and then BOOM, one day, it hits you. All the snide remarks. All the random texts your mom sends you with links to jobs like “Amazon Distribution Center Manager” and “Personal Assistant” to someone, you don’t know who.

Doesn’t matter that you have a job. Or that you take care of yourself. Or that you are a writer and that’s what you’re meant to do with your life. All that matters, in case you were wondering, is that you did not become a doctor or a lawyer and so, basically, you failed. Already. I mean, you don’t have kids yet SO OBVIOUSLY YOU SHOULD JUST GIVE UP NOW, YOU’RE USELESS. You don’t have health benefits or a 401k SO WHY EVEN TRY AT ALL ANYMORE?! You also don’t have a specific job that she can brag about to her friends SO YOU SHOULD PROBABLY STOP CALLING BECAUSE WE DON’T NEED YOUR FAILURES HERE.

I figured it out a long time ago, forgot, and remembered today. I have somehow been letting her down for years (I believe I started disappointing her in 7th grade when I sat next to a boy to work on a homework assignment AT THE KITCHEN TABLE and she told me later that “it’s not appropriate and real ladies don’t sit with boys like that and what will he think of me?” And I wondered when we landed back in 1850 and told her I didn’t care what he or anyone else thought. That was clearly code for “I’m going to go whore myself out now, see you later.”)

There’s a line in Gilmore Girls, where Lorelai answers the phone to her Mom and says, “Dragonfly Inn, Major Disappointment Speaking.” Nothing has ever resonated with me more.


Day 33 – Disappointing Mom since 1995.

June 26, 2018

Denial, Day 2

“You used to do your hair. What happened? Why don’t you do it anymore?” Mom, 5:37 PM, her car. As if I never do my hair. Like I just have a rat’s nest on top of my head and walk around proudly shunning normal human behavior.

I wanted to tell her that if she has nothing nice to say, then don’t say anything, as this is the advice I have received my entire life when I tried to share MY opinions. However, before I could say anything, she followed up her previous statement with, “I like this dress better on you. The other one looks like a bag.”

I let that sink in. I replied, “Why don’t you let me ask you for your opinions sometimes instead of giving them randomly, when I don’t want them at all?”

And she said, and I quote, “I don’t know. I just assumed you needed to know it looks like you’re wearing a bag.” Oh, okay then. Thanks, I guess.

We spent the day eating and watching murder. I also went to the dentist and made awkward conversation with the dental assistant about Prairie Dogs while she put a poky device and a small mirror in my mouth. (I could see Prairie Dogs outside the window, for the record. Didn’t make it any less awkward or mumble-y.)

True crime is our go-to show to watch. I don’t know what that says about me, except that if I murder someone, I will definitely get away with it. Except now that I’ve written this post. Now I won’t. Shame, because I really do have a good way to cover it up. Oh well, guess no murdering anyone.

Day 16 – Mom’s endless opinions and not dealing with my problems.

June 25, 2018


The day has arrived. I am home with my mom. It is…really here. I am really here. This will be quite the week. But let’s start with what I told you I was going to look into –

Denial. I am beginning my grieving process at Denial, or so says the 5 Stages of Grief. Denial has been my constant survival technique. I know this step well. I am very comfortable here.

According to the always trustworthy Internets, the stage of Denial exists because it “helps us to survive the loss.” True, Internets. True. I have been on this stage for two years now.

I surprised my mom for her birthday. When I walked in through the garage door and into the kitchen, she jumped up and down and hugged me, then she pulled back and looked at me carefully, saying “I thought you’d at least do your hair.” (I had just done my hair for a wedding…it’s as “done” as it ever will be.) Yes, ladies and gentlemen, she has a lot of opinions. After I gave her a tolerant smile and said, “It’s nice to see you, too,” I pretended she didn’t say that. Denial.

I proceeded to eat some take out I found on the counter before she abruptly said, “It’s possible to have a real job, you know. You could still get a normal job. You could work. It is a possibility.” I ignored this, as well. Denial #2. After she said that, I started chewing on my nails because what else could I do? She immediately smacked my hand away from my mouth and said sarcastically, “well that’s attractive.” I told her that I didn’t care about being attractive, but she said that I should care and I should “stop cannibalizing myself.” I asked her, “then what am I supposed to do?” She didn’t have a good suggestion…

Then the opinions/questions/judgments progressed to “when are you getting married?” and “aren’t you going to have a wedding?” and “are you just going to end up alone?” And this was in the first hour and a half of being here. I told her I plan to end up with my dog. So, needless to say, it’s going well.

I don’t know why anyone moves on from this stage. Except my fingers hurt a lot from biting the nails down below the quick.

Day 15 – Denial is in full swing and also my mom

June 23, 2018

I’m currently sitting in the hallway of a hotel because my friend doesn’t like the light from my computer (which I turned away from her). And it’s not that I can’t or don’t understand her concern, but she and her boyfriend had played video games on their individual Switches for an hour before deciding they were going to bed, so apparently everyone should be going to bed, and now light is annoying.

It’s not that I’m complaining (I am); it’s just that I find it really annoying, but also I feel anxious about it. I try to be as accommodating as possible to other people. You are freezing cold but I’m so hot I feel like I’m melting? That’s okay, turn off the AC. You want to get up at 6 am, but I’m exhausted and want sleep? That’s okay, I’ll get up. You want to skip breakfast because you ate a big dinner? That’s fine, I’ll ignore my body when it enters starvation mode.

Yes, I am being sarcastic, obviously. I hate it. I really do all those things. I sacrifice myself to be accommodating to other people. But I don’t do it very willingly. I make snide remarks. I remind them that I did it. I mention how hot, tired, hungry I am on repeat until you want to kill me. But I still insist on doing the accommodating thing.

So tonight when my friend got annoyed at the light from my computer, I stepped out into the hallway to write there, and promptly locked myself out. But if light keeps her awake, knocking on the door will certainly do so. Thus, my conundrum. Thus, the opportunity to think about how I will be seeing my mother in less than 48 hours. I was originally ignoring this fact. But when it’s just you and the hallway lights of the hotel and some questionable carpet you’re currently sitting on, your thoughts drift to your mother. Freud would be so proud (or just vindicated). I will be sitting at her kitchen table, being asked why I didn’t wash my hair or why my clothes look like that or why I gained weight or how come I’m not dating that cute neighbor boy from when I was 7 and he used to throw things at me. 44 hours and counting…

Day 13 – Stressed, anxious, and locked out, alone, in a hallway.

June 18, 2018

This one will be short. I tried my hardest to have a good day today. I started writing a new play. But…

Grief burrowed inside me. I lived in it and it lived in me. I fought it for as long as I could. But then I talked to my mom and it won. We laughed some. We told stories. She didn’t want to talk to me. She said she wanted to curl up in her bed. But then she told me, “I won’t kill myself while you’re still here.” I will never forget those words.

You know, when your heart is broken, it doesn’t take much for the wound to open up again. Even the happy things and happy conversations and happy memories can rip the scar tissue out.

I am so, so sad. I don’t even know where to put my sadness anymore. Every time I try to have a good day, every time I try to be a better “me” or make other people laugh, I get an email at midnight from my mom saying she doesn’t want to talk to me and everything is terrible. How can I laugh now?

Day Eight – Life kicked my ass.