Quality time with Moms

alice with pig

There once was a baby that turned into a pig. I am trying to partially reverse this process, and just be human in the presence of my family. It doesn't matter if I'm a handsome pig or not.

I have a difficult relationship with Moms. Moms doesn’t know this. Part of the difficultly is keeping the nature of our relationship from my mother. She doesn’t need to know I struggle in this relationship. Would break her heart. She once asked me if we were friends. I said no and she was devastated.  But all we have in common, really, is blood and history. We don’t have interests or hobbies in common, we don’t read the same books, she hates my movies, she doesn’t get my jokes, I’m not a cat freak or church goer, and there’s such a power differential in our relationship that it could never be a friendship. My friends don’t judge me and tell me what to do. They don’t try to wield money as a weapon against me. They don’t have so much fear for my (and their own) well-being that they attempt to kill my dreams with what they say. So no, we really aren’t friends, but I keep my mouth shut about that. She can’t handle that truth, or many others.

We had lunch. I was late but I called her to tell her that. Her cellphone was off. She always turns it off after she makes a call, even if I’m on my way to see her, so I can’t reach her en route. It’s annoying to me, but I can’t change her at this point. I can let her be herself. Yesterday was a whole lotta letting my mother be herself. She talked about her cats as if they were her children. I let her. She got lachrymose over my brother. I let her. She tried to talk shit about my father. I didn’t bite, but didn’t change the subject and let her run her course on that. I brought up subjects she was the expert in: her church, the bible…um, the bible. Her school. She loves to talk about herself, and to dish about other people, but I don’t like doing that with her. She’s really into judgment and really above it all. It just points out to me how much of a gossip I am.

Oh, and she found out I have a blog, because I took pictures of the food. She didn’t ask me for the URL, because she probably gleaned if I hadn’t told her about it, I probably didn’t want her reading it. Precisely because of shit like this. I’m glad she didn’t ask because we didn’t have to have that conversation.

After lunch, she kept trying to buy me shit. This has been part of our dynamic for years and years. I have been stuck on Moms’ teat for years with the money. It’s been hard for me to be self-supporting, even though I’ve had enough money for a few years now. (I’m a little nervous about going back to school. I need to pay off the car in a year and buy a new computer and save up some cash.)  So whenever I see her and we walk into a store, she tries to get me stuff. It’s a subtle way of asserting power, and a bribe to spend more time with her. I’m not saying it’s like that for everyone with their own mothers, it’s just the dynamic with me and mine. This time, all I took was the meal. I even got her an iced tea. Progress.

Yes, I am making progress. I’m no longer the money-grubbing, whiny, argumentative little Seer I once was. I’ve got a long way to go before I’m where I want to be. But I’m getting better. Moms is kind of the same, or a little crazier. I have another witness who says she’s nutting up a bit. But she doesn’t have to get better. I do.


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