I went to visit my parents yesterday. I reached out and invited them to meet for dinner. Then I invited myself to use their hot tub. I needed to submerge my exhausted self in the warm bubbly water of my parent’s materialistic love.
It’s not so bad, having parents like mine. I am beginning to understand their frustration with me, now that I have a teenager myself. It’s not easy in this phase of life, trying to balance the holding on with the letting go. I remember struggling from the other side of this, not so long ago.
I think they were expecting a down home “all American girl,” when I was born. I think they dreamed that I would grow up and embrace their very conservative right-wing principles. I think they were a little heartbroken when I turned out to be myself instead. I was born with an instinct towards compassion and a very strong mind of my own. I’m definitely the oddball of my family.
I think the most difficult thing for me is that I can’t just ignore their bullying. I try to let it roll off. It never has. It always weighs heavy on my shoulders and coils around my neck until I write it all out. I hate that I am so sensitive. I hate that I’m thirty-seven and still writing about my mom issues.
Yesterday, my mom actively tried to instigate trouble between my daughter and I. She made a snarky comment about my oldest daughter having to help babysit my younger daughter because of the extra work I’ve taken on. She reminded me that I never had to help out like my daughter does. And I tried to kindly explain to her, that she had the privilege of being a stay at home mom. She was lucky to be completely supported emotionally and financially by my dad. She doesn’t understand that I’m raising my kids with much less than what she had. Her response was…
“Well that’s because I kept my husband.”
I think my dad could sense that in that moment, I was fantasizing about slamming my mother’s face into the pizza that had just been delivered to our table. A part of me wanted to accept her invitation to war. I’ve been working on the conservation of my energy and decided against it. My dad spoke up and advised her to knock it off before I could even say a word.
Mom issues are the worst. Because even though I have grown to expect disappointment from her…even though I can’t stand her condescending bull shit… I still want nothing more than for her to love me. I still crave her approval, knowing that the odds are pretty strong against that wish ever being granted.
I don’t understand why she can’t just say, “I see you trying so hard and I am proud of you.” Why is it so fucking hard for her to be nice?
I sat in their hot tub after dinner. The contrast of cold, wet raindrops hitting my face with the hot steam rising around my chin sent me straight into zen mode. Their hot tub is my consolation prize. It is my warm hug.
I sat in the womb like water and wondered if the warmth would ever have felt so sweet on my skin had the cold rain not been slapping me in the face. Would I be where I am at right now, had my parents not driven me towards a quest to be loved? Would I have found my chosen family, had I not been driven away from my biological family? Wondering can sometimes be a waste of energy as well.
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