So Much to Say – Don’t Talk About It

I’ve been tired all week. Unusually so. And I couldn’t figure out why. I’ve been feeling good, making all these realizations about myself, getting real work done with my projects.

Shortly after I woke up today, I took a call from my BFF. We were chatting, and I told him about what happened to me yesterday.

Talk about the weather

I went to the store yesterday. Specifically, I walked. One of the perks of living in Guatemala City, it’s very walkable, and I enjoy the change of pace. As my son put it, it’s quaint.

On the way to the store to buy cat food, my phone rings. I don’t like answering my phone when I am walking because if my Bluetooth earbuds don’t connect to my phone, then I’m not going to use it. I’m not going to be like my mother, talking on my phone on speaker, inviting the local populace into my conversation. I’m not that bitch.

So my phone rings, I check. I have two phones. My US phone and my local phone. Sure enough, it’s my mother calling my local phone. What could she possibly want in the middle of the day? No matter. I have my no-talking on the walk policy, so I message her that I can’t talk now, I will talk to her later. I put the phone back in my bag.

The phone rings again. I know it’s her. She is nothing if not persistent. She is incapable of being considerate when she wants something. Her needs and wants are paramount above all. I take out my phone, and I message again while walking. Is it an emergency? Because if not, I will call you when I get home, I am walking to the store. I return the phone to my bag.

Sure enough, my other phone rings. Because why wouldn’t it? I know it’s her. I happened to be listening to music on my walk, and that is the phone that happens to be connected to my Bluetooth, so I answered to yell at her that I told her I’d call her back.

However, as usual, my earbuds decide they want to disconnect in that moment, so I stop to put the phone up to my ear only to hear her tell me that I’m being disrespectful.

No bitch, you’re being disrespectful.

I tell her – listen, I told you I am walking. I will call you back later.

I hang up.

I find sometimes it’s easy to be myself

The whole trip, including a side quest to the mercado for avocados, takes an hour out of my day. I returned home to make lunch now that I’d worked up an appetite. I text my mother that I am now home, and she can call me back.

I don’t hear from her for 7 1/2 hours. Because, of course, it wasn’t important. However, this time when she calls, I am in the middle of watching a movie. So I pause the movie to hear what she has to say.

“What did you buy from the store?” I tell her I bought cat food. She was like, “Oh, which store did you go to?” I knew she was going to ask because she’s nosy AF. I told her I walked to the grocery store. I told her I walked. So why, pray tell, is her next question to ask: “Did you drive there?” No mother. I did not drive. I walked to the store, I repeat.

She then proceeds to mention another grocery store, one that is not in reasonable walking distance from my house. One she knows I would only go to if I was going to drive there, or take the bus. I ask her, why, if I told her I walked, would she ask me if I had gone to that store? She’s like, I wanted to know what store you went to. I tell her, what does it matter? I bought cat food. The story is over. Why did you want to talk to me earlier?

I already want to end the conversation. I want to be doing literally anything else in that moment.

She’s like, I wanted to give you some advice. Here we go…

Okay mother. What advice did you want to give me? Ready for it?

She wanted to warn me about not accepting random drinks from strangers.

Sometimes I find it’s better to be somebody else

Does it confuse and enrage you as much as it did me? Because had I not already been disassociating from the conversation, I would have gone into a rage spiral.

It gets better. She continues to explain further the specifics of her warning for me, her gullible, helpless daughter. She wanted me to be aware, as I am walking about, not to accept drinks from strangers, even if I know them and they offer me something, not to take it.

Yeah? This is the oh-so-important news flash she needed to share with me as soon as she could because I was in dire need of this consejo from my mother. Because I am, apparently, susceptible to accepting random drinks from strangers while out and about by myself.

Fuck this shit.

Sigh. She says this in all seriousness, and in front of my brother, no less. Because I heard her tell him that she was talking to me at the start of the conversation. So, he’s sitting there in their living room while she is talking to me, and I can hear him in the background.

I expect a rational brother at that point would have interjected at the ridiculousness of her statements with, my sister is a grown ass woman and knows better, she doesn’t need to hear this from you, mother. Right?

Not my brother. He’s silent as the grave. Because he’s cosigning on this bullshit conversation.

In either case, I’m like, okay. Time to end this conversation as quickly as humanly possible. I go into automatic customer service mode, and I tell her: Thanks for this absolutely unnecessary information. What can I help you with that would bring this conversation to its much-needed conclusion?

She laughs and is like, “Why are you so serious? You’re always like this. You never want to listen to my advice.”

Keep it locked up inside

And it is at this point that a switch goes off in my head. In the moment, I am having an epiphany at the same time that I am letting her know that had she some information to share with me that would be of actual use, at which point I might pay attention. But that is never the case, so I would much rather go back to what I was doing when she called me just now, which was watching a movie.

She’s like, you’re never there for me. You never want to listen to what I have to say. What movie are you watching?

I’m not going to tell her exactly what I’m watching; I neither want to invite comments, interest, nor an additional line of questioning that would extend the conversation. So I merely say, “A movie about Abraham Lincoln.”

She responds with “Oh, you think you’re so highfalutin.” That’s not the word she used. I can’t think of what specific word she used; it might have been something in Spanish, but that is what she meant.

In a tone of voice to imply what her opinion was of my thinking that I was better than her because I was watching a movie about Abraham Lincoln. She went on about it for another two minutes. She was expecting me to defend myself, to respond with something to give more specifics about the movie, or to justify myself. But I said nothing. I just sighed into the phone and waited for her to finish talking.

And she realized that I was not reacting to her rage-baiting, so she gave up and was like I’ll let you get back to your serious movie. I said, thanks. And I hung up and pressed play on my movie.

The funny thing is, I was re-watching Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. Not as highfalutin as she thought, lol. But that is neither here nor there. I sat there and processed what had happened. It occurred to me that in real time, I deciphered her actions fast enough to not react and saved myself from being emotionally manipulated. The rest of my evening passed with no additional thoughts about her.

I told my BFF what happened with my mother because he knows all about her harassment. I’ve been friends with him since middle school, so he knows her. At the end of my recount, he was like, “I’m so sorry.“

And I was like, meh. What can I do? I told him I am just now realizing that I have spent almost 50 years being manipulated by her. And then I screamed into the phone out of frustration at my epiphany. My son came in from the other room: “I heard you scream.” Yeah. So did I.

Long Long Time

I thought I was so strong and independent, but no. On the one hand, I was proud of myself for being so Johnny-on-the-spot and protecting my peace during the call. On the other hand, I was dismayed to realize that I have spent my ENTIRE life being played like a cheap piano by my mother.

This is what she would do: she would reach out to me through whatever means, on the phone, via text, in person, and manipulate me. Saying some bullshit with the sole intention to piss me off, or hurt my feelings, or make me yell, or make me feel completely insane. Didn’t matter. She just needed me to react. But no more. I will no longer be used to feed this monster that lives inside of her. So much time wasted being used. Makes me want to tear out my hair.

I laughed and told him that I hoped hearing my tale made him feel better about his life and situation. He reluctantly chuckled and agreed. He was like, “Ok then, I’ll let you go.” I was like, sure, thanks. We hung up.

When I got off the phone, this little piece of a song popped into my head all of a sudden. And I was like, weird. Little baby?

Whenever a song gets stuck in my head, it means I have to listen to the song. But why this song specifically? Can’t recall the last time I specifically queued up a Dave Matthews Band song to the point that I had to ask Perplexity which song it was because I only had that one phrase, so I couldn’t be sure what it was actually called.

This is the song:

As I listened to the lyrics, I was like, oh. This is why. Kinda made me sad. Resigned.

So much to say

There is so much I’d want to say to my mother, if I thought my saying it would be heard. I want to tell her that I see her. I see what she’s been doing. I am figuring her out, and she can keep trying to manipulate me, but it won’t work. I want to tell her to stop. I want to tell her that she’s a bully and a terrible mother, and that she should leave me alone. I want to ask her why me? What did I do to deserve this? Cause I sure as fuck didn’t ask for it.

When I did try to talk to her, when I used to tell her things – before I figured her out – she was only listening for ammunition. The only things she “knows” about me are the things she uses against me. She never listened to understand, or to be my mother.

I learned to stop talking to her. Any of the things I want to say to her now would be pointless breath wasted.

There is no fixing this. No resolution. And that is what I am working to wrap my mind around: That I have to learn to be okay with this. And to let it go.

The hardest thing about growing old with a manipulative, narcissistic mother is getting to midlife only to realize you never had a mother, and you essentially raised yourself. And that I will never have a mother. Not in the way I needed or wanted one.

I am kind of tired of always ending up in these doldrums of self-actualization. I am resentful that I have to do all this work because I got stuck with a woman in arrested development for a mother. I’m just tired. I mean, I’ll keep going, but I’m tired.