I don’t like turmoil. I think everything is still building as it was before, going toward this insane climax that I am trying to ignore. Things keep stopping and starting, and I miss the sense of sameness that I am so used to.
The other day, my mom decided to have another of her moods. She gets distraught over things very easily. I don’t quite remember what it was (yes, it was that important), but she was bitchy when I got up, and she was pretty rude when I said good morning to her. I happened to be in an alright mood (a rarity for mornings), so it kind of irritated me, but I just thought to myself, “whatever” and rumaged around the kitchen, pointedly ignoring her. I could hear her talking on the phone, sounding tired and monotone.
She always changes her voice when she’s upset about something. She loses inflection and kind of croaks things out as though her throat is sore or something, and it really pisses me off for some reason. Maybe because I feel like that all the time but I don’t have to make a fucking show of it to get some sympathy.
So I decide I’m going to go out since it is relatively sunny, and I shower and get dressed and all of that, then go back into the livingroom to tell her that I’m leaving for awhile. She’s sitting there in front of her computer playing solitaire. Her head is bowed down and she’s crying. I can tell from across the room, even.
I say it flatly: “What’s wrong.”
It’s not even a question, because I know she’ll elaborate. She’s like that. If I do something that bothers her she goes straight to my dad with it, like a child that doesn’t know how to handle a problem. And she always sits there and prattles on about things to me, things she knows I don’t give a shit about. I have told her on more than one occasion that I could easily go into a monologue about the digestive system if she wants to keep talking about the price differences on food from different stores. We’re nothing alike; our interests are like night and day. Finding things in common is quite difficult, which is probably why we often fall into constant arguing.
Of course, she jumps on the chance to have someone to talk to. I know she’s lonely, but fuck. It’s not like anyone is going to pay me the same courtesy. She goes onto explain the whole thing, and blah, blah, blah. I’m standing there with a helmet in my hand, impatiently waiting for her to finish. I don’t bother to tell her that I’m missing half of what she’s saying because I have my headphones on. She doesn’t notice. But I make it obvious that I’m not in the mood to commiserate.
All I say is “Yeah.”
She wants to say more, I can tell, but my heart is like ice to her. I don’t know what I feel toward her anymore. I’m a physical guardian, it seems, nothing more. It does not go beyond that much of the time, and it scares me a little. I should feel bad, try to help, but all I can think of is all the times I suffer alone, constantly. The ache of misery never leaves me, even if I am number than numb. I am not a savior, and I refuse to be hers. She can mourn her loss all she wants, I will not stand by her and offer my shoulder. Those times are gone.
I look at her. I sigh, more out of annoyance at being delayed than anything else.
I walk away.
Yeah, my mother gets a definite change in her voice and manners when she’s upset. She’s an extrovert and it’s obvious most the time when she been getting frustrated with a situation. I’m the only one there to lend an ear to it all. I say it doesn’t bother me, but I think it does more than I realize. After all, I don’t have much power to make the problem go away. I can’t wish it away. I wonder, does your mother or father at times start a guilt trip on you? My mother does that sometimes and I happen to think it’s just plain out cruel. She says ‘no one cares about me around here; I do everything and get no thanks for it’, as if I just don’t exist or don’t try to do as much as I can every day to help her. Then I just want to scream at her that no one made her have a family, or have kids and go down the same silly traditional path everyone goes along with, hoping against the odds that it’ll actually mean anything.
Giving even half of our attention to what they have to say, for them, is better than nothing at all. They may not like how cold our reaction is or our general apathy, but it’s going to have to be enough. We’re all alone really when trying to deal with things that have happened, because we have to face the fact that though other people may be around us, we have to accept they can’t do anything to fix it or make it better any easier. But I guess that depends on what kind of problem it is….anyway, I won’t go on and on anymore. Just felt like talking. I hope your family is alright and that you are handling things okay. You are trying to cope with your own thoughts and feelings, so please don’t be too hard on yourself for not feeling as you believe you should feel towards the situation.
Btw, so sorry for all the typos in my comment…I usually check before I submit.