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.

I DO NOT WANT TO WORK IN A DISTRIBUTION CENTER. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?

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

DENIAL

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.