I have a little daily planner that I bought in September. It has two separate parts to it, one section has monthly calendars for each month up until December 2016. Then the next part, the pages are 1 week at a time with larger spots to write in detail. I use the monthly section to plot out blogging topics. I had a topic for today, but I can’t write about it.
I had a topic, a nice simple topic for a 300 Thursday post. Then I got an email from my mom yesterday, and this won’t be less than 300 words. I had sent an email telling my parents I had decided to give up my spot on the supply list. My mom replied and said “why isn’t she surprised”, but was going to bed. Get home from work and I have another email from her saying that it’s 5am and she hasn’t slept because the news of the supply list was a “kick in the teeth” and all I do is continue to hurt those who love me.
Once again I have to explain to her how I’m not running away from things and that I can’t keep having this conversation with her. She has to let it go. She holds onto anger and resentment so much. She writes saying she loves me and she’s sorry for making me move here – as if she was the reason I left. And that she doesn’t understand why I’m here, living in danger (there is no danger). And my head is swimming with past emails, saying the exact same thing. She won’t drop it, she’s making herself sick because of it but she won’t drop it. She says she’s hurt and angry and I’m throwing my life away and I’m running away and this isn’t the life for me.
I reply. Like I always do. I don’t use any exclamation points, I don’t want her to think that I’m yelling my answer via email. She yells when she’s angry – I’ve learned to keep a calm voice through her years of yelling. I don’t hear her when she yells. She doesn’t hear me when I yell. There is no point.
I type my reply with purpose, thinking the whole time how she is going to react to it. I go over the same answers I’ve been giving for three whole months now of living here, and at least a full month before moving. The exact same answers And always the line “I can’t keep having this conversation”.
This time I added something else. Something I’ve wanted to add for years – maybe she should ask the doctor to recommend someone to talk to about this – outside of her friends and our family. Her emotional state keeps unraveling. I stare at the draft not knowing if I should send it. I copied it to my brother and asked for his opinion – he’s always been the level headed one out of the two of us, I’m too much like my mom. He agrees it needs to be said. I offer myself, 13,000 kilometers is a nice buffer for what I can only image will be an apocalyptic fall out of “I can’t ever do anything right, everything is always my fault”. I take his advice and let my dad know what I’m suggesting to her. He will be the one most affected by the immediate reaction to it. I hope she takes the words for what they are – an expression of love and a desire for her mental health to improve, thus improving her physical health as well.
She says she’s lost her daughter. That cuts to the core, but I see it only as an attempt to force me back home to a life she can’t accept was destroying my happiness.She wants me home, to get married to give her grandchildren. It doesn’t matter that’s not what I want for my life – she can’t look past the fact that she doesn’t have any grandchildren. Her life isn’t what it’s suppose to be without me getting married and giving her grandchildren. As if live’s happiness revolves around her having grandchildren.
And so, the words continue. The same exchange we’ve had for months. Maybe it’s having the effect she wants because now I’m feeling guilty for my choices, and crying over this war she can’t let end. I can feel her negativity affecting me now. She loses sleep crying over me, and now I’ve lost sleep stressing over replying to her emails – even though the time was needed to make sure the words were right. Maybe she is right- maybe she is loosing her daughter.