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With some disdain and a great deal of steel, she begins again. |
| I hung up on my mother. It hadn't been intended, in fact, the conversation started out in the vein of humour and general ridiculousness, with her telling me about how she bought a table yesterday (!), even though she's 'poor', and despite the fact that she bought a microwave the day before which, in my opinion, she really didn't need. I actually woke up in a halfway decent mood, mostly because it's finally above zero degrees and things are beginning to melt out there. I'm so sick of snow. So, with the sun streaming in the window, hinting at spring in the way a prostitute hints at sex by wearing a leopard print onesie, I picked up the phone and made the wrong decision: I dialed the old bat's number. I just wanted conversation, nothing heavy, just a little bit of an exchange which would count as a bonafide mother/daughter interaction. And, it started off strong, with me telling her about how my cousin D. contacted me again on Facebook to ask about my sister's 'heart condition'. For the record, as of this moment, there is no actual condition, but D. is related to all the other sickness/death junkies in our family, and she needed her hit. Oddly, after I told D. that my sister is basically fine, as far as we know, she went on to tell me that her son's girlfriend had just been rushed to the hospital by ambulance with something or other (she didn't know what the problem was), and for some reason included the needless information that the girl is 'top heavy', meaning she has giant breasts. Oh, I typed back in confusion, So, is it possible she fell over? D. thought that was funny and proceeded to tell me that she has resorted to buying a push-up bra to wear so that when the young girl comes over, D.'s husband H., who I affectionately refer to as 'Flipper' due to his gimpy arm, will not be so inclined to stare at the young girl's breasts. I didn't know how to take any of it. I mean, we barely speak and then to whack me over the head with your rampant insecurity as well as telling me your husband is looking at young teenaged girls isn't exactly what I call 'lite' conversation. I told my mother all of this, and we discussed my cousin's 'daddy issues', the fact that my uncle and she always had an uncomfortable and distant relationship. that D. had always wanted something more but for some reason fought it with everything she had. My uncle wasn't much of a dad, I don't think, but now that he's gone, D. is in the business of idolizing him a little, wishing they had a more loving relationship than they actually did. For this, I'm sorry. Then, my mother and I embarked on the rocky path of discussing what 'true happiness' is, and as you might imagine, we have vastly different ideas. Mine involves leaving this world knowing that you have loved purely, were loved purely and that you experienced all the things you could. My mother's involves making sure you live every moment as though there is no tomorrow, which conveniently justifies her shopping compulsion (see how she did that? sneaky, eh?). I told her that there is some merit to that way of thinking, but mostly it's a weak way of going about life when you get right down to it. If you never think about tomorrow, how can you be sad about where your future takes you? Then, it just went way downhill. The problem with nearly all of the fights I have with mother is that somewhere along the way, I lose my mind. I can't remember the details of everything said, and only have my hazy intepretations to pick apart, which could be way off base, but I choose not to think so. After many, many minutes of discussing what ultimately makes a person happy, and not agreeing with one another, she then says I shouldn't be talking about it at all since I'm such an unhappy person. How could you possibly know about it?, is what I remember her saying. I listen to and read the words of those who are, I responded matter-of-factly. And for the record, I do experience varying degrees of happiness on a day to day basis, but most of them do not involve the woman who birthed me. Am I a categorically 'happy' person, though? To be honest, no, but I don't think I choose to be this way. I'm trying to learn my way out of it, and I know it's possible to see the glass half full if you work through all the muck. I haven't lost hope. Not yet. On to the topic of employment. My mother is a hairdresser, and while I don't think she's a particularly great one, in that she mostly sticks to old ladies and their inexplicable need for very short, very helmetish hair in varying shades of white, grey white and bluish white, she's okay. She could work anywhere at the moment, as the want ads are filled with positions for hairstylists and the like, but she chooses to go from client to client in their own home instead, which is not steady, but it suits her. Fine, then. The trouble is that she is constantly whining and moaning about not having enough money, and when I tell her that it's really a matter of her choosing to work full-time rather than what she is, she gets snarky. I work six days a week! she shrilled, and when I said Okay, let's add up how many actual hours that is, knowing it's amounts to something like twenty hours of actual work, she gets even more acerbic. Well, she huffed, at least I work! I knew the tone. I knew the implication. Obviously, I reacted. It went from there, with me telling her that I know that she makes comments about me to my sisters (they actually tell me she does), and she defended herself by saying that they talk about me too. They're all talking about me, apparently. Things like how I haven't paid my sister P. back for my share of my mother's birthday gift, yet, or how I haven't given my sister K. a birthday gift either. Now, my mother's birthday gift was my idea, initially. I had planned to buy her tickets to 'Il Divo' who are her current favourites, and I actually did all the research on ticket prices and made all the phone calls to my siblings to get their input before going to the ticket office to buy the tickets. It was closed, so I said I'd go the next day, and in that time, my mother said she wanted a coffee maker instead, which my sister P. picked up. I took my share of the money with me to pay my sister back and in the madness of the day at her home, it slipped my mind. I didn't realize until I got home that I had forgotten to give her the money and of course I felt bad about it, but I was too embarrassed to call her to say so, mostly because I know she'd have decided I did it on purpose. My intention was to give her the money the next time I see her. As for my other sister's birthday gift, I simply haven't been able to figure out what to get her as she is notoriously finicky, and what with Christmas and all the other gifts I had to buy for other people, I honestly pushed her birthday gift to the back burner until I could find the right gift and also, until I could comfortably afford to buy it. Since my finances have been in very bad shape lately, I figured she knew and understood my situation, that it wasn't because I didn't want to give her anything. One of the most humiliating things in the world is having to admit you don't have any money to those who have it. It physically hurts. I do whatever I can not to discuss it with them because they all have the support of husbands who make more money than they do. While M. is generous, I still have to pay half of everything and he is struggling in his work, too. I don't feel like I should have to explain any of this to them, though. I felt sorry for your sister, so I asked her yesterday if you'd paid her, yet, my mother said in her knowing voice, the one which makes me hate her and want to sock her in the nose. She felt sorry for my sister? She felt bad about the fifty dollars I owe her even though my sister is fully supported by her husband and that she goes shopping every day without thinking once about the money? Come on. While I know I that it's only decent to pay her back because this was the agreement, none of it has anything to do with my mother. She asked that question to stir the pot. While I really should have made mention of my intentions to my sister (I honestly forgot, but I think it's rooted in embarrassment), my mother talking about it when I'm not there means it's something to gossip about, something to ridicule me for when I am not present to offer an explanation. When she got to the bit about me not buying my sister K. a birthday gift, yet, I lost it. Is she keeping track? What the hell is this woman's damage that she doesn't understand that I lost my job! That I have been applying for things and haven't received a call back, that I am stretching out every single dollar I have in order to take care of my family and no, I'm not worrying about other people's 'presents'. Food is a priority, heat is too, but I'm sorry, buying things for other people when they have everything they need is tough for me at the moment. I love them all, yes, but this is about making ends meet. It's about basic human compassion. And, I'm humiliated. I am so embarrassed that I can't give the kinds of gifts I used to. I used to be good at it, the one who knew just the right thing and I didn't often look at the price if I knew it would make someone happy. People used to say I was too extravagant, that I was too generous, and then today, to have to listen to this woman telling me that I'm a 'miser' now, that I'm cheap and sticky about money...it really bothered me. Not that her opinion means much, but is this what other people are saying? Do I really have to call my sisters and explain to them that I have no money? Do I have to suffer the humiliation of that on top of already feeling badly about all the things I keep private? I don't have any money, right now, I said angrily, but my voice cracked. It cracked and it betrayed me. It told her I am weak, that I am feeling weak and that I am losing. I can't talk to you about this anymore, I said quickly, the voice on the verge of letting go completely. None of it is any of your business, anyway, and if you had any class, you'd know that. Click. Then, the tears came and I was so angry with myself for letting them out. I don't care that I hung up on her, and since she hasn't called back to apologize I can only take that to mean that she doesn't think she has anything to apologize for. What's odd is that I actually expected her to, given that I think she's only apologized to me twice in my entire life. So, here I sit, feeling sick and filled with fluid. Tears, blood, water and viscous liquids. I am cramping, I am bloated and I am desperately wanting french fries. I am sad, and I am angry that the sunlight seems intrusive to me now. I don't know if I should call each of my sisters to explain myself, knowing that the embarrassment might flatten me, or if I should leave well enough alone. Do they understand what I'm going through? Do they care? I know they likely think I should just go and work wherever, that I wasted a lot of time in deciding what I should be doing but is it about them? Should I have worked at any job I hated just so that I could afford to buy them presents? Does my happiness, or the pursuit of it, mean anything to anyone but me? I don't even feel comfortable talking about this kind of thing with M. I hate talking about money, even to this computer screen. The difference between my mother and me is that when I give her a hard time about the way she spends her money, it's because she whines about not possibly losing her home right after she tells me how she threw away her money on clothes, eating out or bingo (for crying out loud). I spend my money on groceries, bills and other people. I am trying to prioritize and she is beating me down for it, and apparently, they're all getting a bit of a laugh at my expense, which, as I've pointed out, I cannot afford.   |
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