Improper Expectations
We had only been in Guatemala two weeks, and my mother had already asked me three times if I was happy to be here. And each time I gave her the same answer: Yes, I was happy to be here.
I also told her, that I can’t fully evaluate how I feel about it since she’s still here and I’m not really living on my own terms, since every day is spent running her errands, and visiting her friends, her agenda. So until I am on my own, doing my own thing, I won’t know for sure. But she just looked at me sideways. Like it was impossible that I have my own plans, needs, or ideas. Out of frustration, I sat down to write.
Monday, November 10, 2025
To be blessed enough with the freedom to untether myself from another country and return to the land of my birth for no specific reason. I wanted to reacquaint myself with my heritage. I have spent almost 90% of my life in the United States. Yes, I have returned to Guatemala here and there, but it was for a few weeks at a time, and they were clearly vacations.
I have come back this time to live. To spend significant time in my country while I can. Nothing is promised. I have no guarantee on how many years I have left on this earth, but I am old enough to know that its now or never. The stars aligned to give me this time so I took it.
Being back in the house where I remember being little is like finding a trinket you thought you lost but treasured. You find it where you thought you had left it, and it’s in the same condition as when you last saw it. That is what waking up in this house is like. It doesn’t feel odd, I don’t feel misplaced. It just is, I am here. Hard to explain.
Expecting her to be different
However, I had expected returning to this house would feel like a reset button, and three months ago, I had painted that picture in my mind. Set the expectation that I would arrive and feel renewed. And maybe I would have if I had returned to Guatemala alone. But instead I am here with La Llorona.
I have a very complicated relationship with La Llorona. Love/hate doesn’t even cover it. So many emotions to unpack, but I resent how despite her being a terrible mother I can’t seem to shake her loose. I have resigned myself that its easier sometimes to just let her have her way (to a point) because I don’t have the strength to constantly be at war with her and she will turn every disagreement into a battle.
So here I am. Back in the house where I was once little with my mother. But she is not the same person she was when she was here. Or maybe I don’t know her as well as I think I do? But I watch her wearing the skin of a person who is pretending to care about the people she meets on the street, our neighbors, old acquaintances, the places we go, and specifically, this house we are living in.
What did the house do to you?
I know she doesn’t care for it. This house is just a collection of steel, cement, glass, and spite. Every inch of this house is a testament to a prize she is tenaciously holding onto in her aging maw.
Like a dog refusing to drop an old bone even when being tempted with a new one, she refuses to let this house transform in the future and live in the present. It has become a mausoleum to the past, to her bad memories, poor childhood, terrible marriage, and apparently, less than ideal adulthood.
When she does talk about the house, it’s with a great deal of resentment. Like it did something to her, or owes her something. I have yet to understand her feelings about the place. There is a history of bad blood between her and her sisters and brother regarding this house. There is a history of bad blood and misunderstandings between her and anyone who has come into contact, had dealings with, or has ever previously lived in this house.
It was part of what motivated me to come down here. I have long held the belief that the worst thing I could possibly do is to become her. So I have steered sharply in the other direction, and persevered to do the total opposite. Hence, she hates the house, I should, in turn, then love it.
She’s going to ruin it 😫
And I do. It has become my refuge, and my sanctuary. I am at peace, probably for the first time in my life. I would never tell her this, nor would I reveal this, or she would make it her life’s mission to ruin it for me.
Because she’s done it before. It’s a pattern. She would see that I like it and then determine that there must be something I am hiding and endeavor to discover it by coming the tick under my skin. Tenaciously trying to suck the lifeblood and joy out of the thing.
Or, she covets. She has a sick and twisted fascination with wants what I have. Even if what I have is an ephemeral emotional connection with a place. Well, she will try to figure out how she can have that too. Or at least ruin it so I can’t have it anymore.
Or, worse – she will return. Because if I am happy, and she finds out I am happy, she will want to be happy too, at the expense of my sanity. OR she will decide that is untenable and seek to ruin it by making me as miserable as she is because my happiness without her being responsible for it, is not allowed – or inconceivable.
Improper Expectations
I expected her to be different. I remember my son asking me if I was going to be able to handle her coming with us on the road trip through Mexico. And I was certain that once we crossed the border into Guatemala, that all would be well.
I had this vision in my head that when we were here during COVID, that she was calmer. I didn’t mind being here with her during those two weeks back in 2020. But it must have been my infatuation with being in Guatemala again, that I overlooked, without trying, her craziness just so I could enjoy being here. That I was glad to be here despite the cost of having to do it with her.
Unsurprisingly, she wasn’t different. She was just as crazed and unhinged as she has always been (maybe even a little worse). And I was disappointed. I had set myself up for failure once again. I don’t know why I expected her to be happy here.
Home is where I make it
When I am in the house without her it feels like home. Like it’s my place and I belong here. They say home is where the heart is, and I feel like I can make a home anywhere. I have a lot of experience in moving around. I only need a few creature comforts, but I can find things to enjoy anywhere.
I think they call that adaptable. So long as I have the things I want – my books (in this case, my kindle), my computer, and a plan.
What I am most afraid of that when she catches on to just how comfortable I am here, that she will try to act like she had some part in it, like I couldn’t have done it without her, when she actually did nothing, or tried to stop me from doing it in the first place.
Itchy trigger finger
Considering all the resentment I hold for her, I am afraid that if she comes to like me being here, that she’s going to RUIN it by triggering my self-sabotage in the form of rebelling to stop doing the thing she likes me to do. As I have done most of my life.
When she was here, there were times when I wanted to jump out of my skin because she would say to me “That’s very good.” Always in response to something I said I did. Most people would be like, so appreciative. Not in that condescending tone. Like she was humoring me with her approval.
I mention that I took out the trash? “Oh, that’s very good, mija.” Ugh!
I made some fried rice with the vegetables that were in the fridge so they didn’t go to waste, “Very good, mija.” KILL ME NOW. It enrages me when she does that. I do not need her approval. I do not want it. I abhor it.
Why is this my life?
I yelled at her one time, stop acting like I give a crap if you think what I did was the good thing, or the right thing. The fact is I don’t do things hoping you will approve. I make my own decisions. I have my own drive and motivation that is entirely external to your will. She looked at me like I was crazy.
When I wanted her validation she didn’t give it. Sorry, ho. It is decades too late for you to try to act like you give a shit about me and what I do. Because it feels like a lie. Like manipulation.
I’m already hella wary of her manipulation. Constant vigilance with her. So yeah. Am I afraid this will get ruined? Yes. I am afraid. Because all she has to do is “approve” of it and I could go feral and blow it all up just to spite her.
I came here thinking I had to wait to get the peace that I was hoping for. But I think I already have it.
The question is, will I be able to keep it? Will I be able to hold onto it despite La Llorona?
