About Me

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Boston area, MA, United States

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Are you there God? It's me, a daughter.

I struggle with adulthood. Not because of bills, increased responsibilities, decisions or my son. It's because of my mother. You see, it's quite easy to be a child and watch your parents (or in my case my mom) make the decisions, scold you when necessary and still love her with every fiber of your being. But as you get older and you watch your mother, a woman, a person, behaviors rear their ugly head that you may not like and herein lies the dilemma. What do you do when sometimes, you don't like the woman who is your mother?

Take for example the subject of control. She was always in control when I was younger. She decided what I wore, where I was going on Saturday, if I could talk to my friends all night on the phone. That was her job. Fast forward 20 years later and I'm still dealing with whether I can go out of town or spend all night out because after all, what is my mother going to do while I'm gone or how is she going to get home later? (There is a back to story to this: I moved back to the Boston area after 12 years of being in California, not only to find my mother older (mid 50's), a bit slower, some health issues and taking public transportation.) This is infringing on my freedoms as an adult, isn't it?

What about pettiness? Does it really matter if someone moved your seat in the car or didn't call you to ask if you wanted something at Target? Things get blown out of proportion when stuff isn't done to her liking which leads right back to control.

I've learned alot of things along the way of growing up especially that people can say what they want, it's the reaction that makes a difference. It's safe to say that she always reacts and sometimes I do too. I've also learned that this woman is lonely and maybe old age has made her insecure instead of the vibrant, confident woman I used to look up to. Was it childhood admiration? She enjoys solitude and keeps people at a distance. I can't remember the last time she's spent time with people other than me or her grandson. If there's an event she'd like to go to, I'm the default companion.

My feelings often conflict from flashes of anger to sorrow and guilt. She's my mom and I should be willing to do anything for her and yet she painfully reminds me that I owe her because of the sacrifices she's made for me, so my anger returns.

I need a vacation...from mom.