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misstree
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Mom,
Writing because there’s a lot in my brain, and when we talk we don’t listen as well as we could, and I really want you to understand why I feel the way I do. Some of this is very difficult to say, and it may sound attacking or hurtful, but that isn’t my intention. I love you very much, and I value your opinion of me. Please try to listen with an open mind so that we can work past this and make our relationship better.
I only had two hours of sleep on Christmas Eve for two reasons. One was a nasty cough that has settled in, but much more than that, I was very much stressed about coming home for Christmas. What would I wear, would you like my presents or would you be disappointed that I couldn’t buy you something, and worst, would I get lectured about how much I’m screwing up my life. When I come to expect attacks, it makes me want to avoid the situation entirely, which does no good for anyone. I don’t want to be stressed about coming to see you, because I really do enjoy all the rest of it.
In my opinion, I’ve led a pretty good life. True that I’ve never had much money, and even true that I’ve rarely been in very stable situations, but I most enjoy living moment to moment, and what I’ve had has been plenty for me. I’ve seen and lived in some incredible places, I’ve met some wonderful and unique people, I’ve done the most improbable things, and I have a million unmatchable memories. I don’t see a point in settling down, at least not yet. I’m not done adventuring, I still haven’t been to Spain, and most importantly, I don’t know where I want to live. In the meantime, I don’t need much money or fancy things, I don’t need stability, I just need to experience and explore. It’s not an easy life, sometimes, but it is the one that I consciously choose, and it is what brings me the most happiness.
I may be wrong, but I believe your opinion is that this is a mark of immaturity, and I have to disagree. This is not some “wild child” syndrome, this is the path that I choose to walk in life. If it’s a phase, it’s a long one; I expect it to be at least five years before I tire of exploring and want to settle someplace. When you criticize me for being this way, to me it feels like you’re rejecting my choice, not allowing it any validity. I understand that you want the best for me, and to you that means a good job and a stable home, but my priorities are different, and attacking me because of my choices doesn’t change them, it just wounds me.
There are always other things that come up as well; quite a bit of my insomnia was caused by trying to figure out what I could wear that wouldn’t offend you. At work and in the general world I have no problem with how I look, but when you look at me and immediately try to put me into another outfit, it feels like I’ve failed you somehow. Like I’m incapable of dressing for myself, or having an acceptable personal style. Mom, how I look is how I choose to look. The first time you saw me, I was bloody, naked, and screaming, and I’ve managed to avoid repeat performances, as well as keeping myself in normal hair colors and very conservative tattoo and piercings. I may not dress the way that you would like, but it’s not your right to tell me to change it. When we go out to restraunts and such, I will change, because I know that it makes you happy, but being outright negative about how I look does nothing but again make me feel like you’re rejecting a big part of me.
As far as things like being late, I understand your anger and frustration, and you have a right to feel that way. Remember, though, that I’ve been late ever since the day I was born. It should not be surprising or distressing enough to warrant attacks. It’s not from inconsideration that I don’t call; it’s because I know that I will be yelled at, made to feel like a failure for oversleeping and then getting lost. Not calling just makes it worse. But if I thought I could call and just hear, “That’s okay, just drive safe,” it would be much easier. “If you would have just called,” I can almost hear you saying. You’re right, I should have. I didn’t because I was afraid of being yelled at, being called a disappointment, the same thing that kept me up the night before.
I know that you have good intentions. I know that you love me very much and want the best for me, but the way that you say it not only hurts, I feel like a disappointment to you. I have worked very hard to be the person I am today, and even if my current situation doesn’t look like the prize that it is, I wouldn’t trade the path to it for anything. I refuse to put myself in a situation where I will be made to feel that I am wrong in every aspect, that I am a failure.
Also, please remember that when a conversation becomes confrontational, both sides stop listening. It’s not easy to stay logical and calm when strong emotions are involved, but I think that we both need to try very hard so that we can understand each other instead of defending our viewpoint against each other.
I’m very sorry I hurt you by not coming out for Christmas. It was not my goal, and if it weren’t so important to me to be treated fairly I would have bitten down and done it. I cannot compromise my need to be acknowledged as an adult who has been making her own choices and living her own life for eight years, whose feelings and opinions are valid, and who deserves if not respect, at least to be spoken to civilly. Much of this problem rests with Bob, but I will write and speak to him separately about how he and I relate. Mothers and fathers always have very different relations with their children, and somehow, I expect that communicating with Bob will be quite a bit more difficult.
Call me once you’re done reading this. I really do want to talk to you about this, especially now that I’ve said my piece, and I’m sure that you have quite a bit to say in return. Please, please, please, when you speak to me, try not to attack me, try not to allow your emotions to rule your words, but speak from your heart and remember that despite the fact that we have each hurt the other, I love you very much and I know you love me in return.
Love always,
T
(for posterity's sake. or release. or no reason. whateva.)
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041226
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