I wish I could say I was writing my stories with an intense fervor, smiling at my keyboard and my ever-present notebooks, flipping pages and using my funky-colored pens to mark new ideas and just let it flow and flow and flow.
I wish I could say I was working plenty of hours the past few months, enough for me to sock several paycheck chunks into an emergency fund and pay down my debts with a little wiggle room for decent coffee and a breakfast sandwich every day.
I wish I could say I was being more sociable, getting out there on the new nights I suddenly have off and making plans with people I just met.
I wish I could say my destiny was well-in-hand and I was working ever-so-confidently toward a brilliant and wonderful future.
A future where I might not be a millionaire, but if I’m sensible with my money, I can give some away to charity or food banks without feeling a pain in my own stomach and a grasping hand around my heart. Where money is there to just pay the bills and buy food and fulfill some basics, and I have time because I have enough to volunteer more often. Where I stop fretting over work hours and wonder if this one cup of regular, free-refill available coffee (not the fancy-shmancy, hand-crafted stuff) is going to prevent me from making my car note if (heaven forbid) I lose work hours again because of a schedule conflict or too many last-minute cancellations.
I was planning to write some inspirational quotes for myself in a notebook again, since they sometimes pull me out of my desperate creative funk. I was going to pull some out and put them in one of the Jesus themed ones I happen to have on my shelf and make one for mom, who has also been writing, and maybe it would have some nice things she could use for inspiration.
If you’ve read my post about family and Facebook, then you have a basic idea of the issues I have with my mother, who even 900 miles away can inspire guilt and anger (but these days it’s mostly disappointment and annoyance).
It’s going in the recycle bin now because NOTHING I can give her or say at this point can undo what the hell just happened a few minutes ago on the phone.
I hadn’t called her in months, and kept trying to figure out a way to do just that. I’d pick up the phone, remember all the other conversations I still held a grudge over, and would put it down again. I just kept hesitating.
That hesitation cost me, because as I was about to finish this post, the phone rang and it was her. She sounded a bit subdued, but then the first words out were something like you haven’t called in months.
I don’t know how the fuck it happened, but I just exploded. I said I was ignoring everyone because of the election crap, because of the hate and the awfulness, and it all just exploded. I didn’t want to argue or anything and when we got on the phone, we seemed to argue all the time, and I didn’t want that, and I didn’t wanna talk to anybody.
What was all fucked up is that she was calling me to tell me that my aunt died.
Then we jumped down each other’s throats.
I’m not on Facebook with her or anything, and the crazy thing was this past week I was going to try and head down to my aunt’s workplace and see her and actually get advice on talking with my mom and seeing what I could do to make things better. I had a feeling there was something else I could do, but not Facebook.
But there’s a reason I didn’t want to call or talk–I hadn’t figured it out yet, and here she was calling me. I wasn’t ready, and my verbal diarrhea took a left turn at Hell.
Irony of ironies, I fucked it all up so much worse than I could’ve imagined. She was crying so bad and I tried to stem the flow of all the frustration and the bad memories, because that’s not what the conversation was about, but we could barely hear each other. I’m gonna be calling my stepdad later this week, maybe tomorrow, and see if I can talk to him and get a grasp on what the hell I just did.
I remembered my aunt had been sick, but I didn’t remember how long ago that was. That’s part of the reason I was going to stop in her workplace and say Hi when I had the chance–then I got a schedule change and passed it by. Turns out she wouldn’t have been there anyway. Mom’s on her way to the funeral and I just found out–that’s why she called me.
My fear of being confrontational and hurting other people’s feelings just turned turtle in the water and sank. My hands are shaking because I didn’t mean to explode, and somehow it just came out of me. Oh shit–I gotta call my pseudo sister and get her advice, because I don’t know what else to do.
Getting too damned close to checking all these off…tear down the wall, kiddo.
I think I need to take a test or find a way to see a shrink. Part of the reason I’m worked up is this anxiety, and uncertainty I had about my mother this morning, and also the real concern that something’s completely screwed up with me, like I’m depressed myself and need help.
Well, if there was a motivation to do something about this waffling between intense feeling and intense numbness and all the crackpot things that’ve happened…I think I saw the sign. A really really big neon sign spewing fireworks, smoke, sirens and nukes.
I’m really wishing I could redo the past 24 hours, hell, the past 5 would be perfectly fine with me! The past two would be fantastic.
God help me, what the hell did I just do? I doubt my quote books are going to have anything very inspirational to help with this!
The Chatty Introvert 
Oh Dear!
Most importantly you must keep present the fact that you did not , intentionally, wish to hurt your Mom. It is clear that you get upset, angry, frustrated, but the fact that you feel so upset now about how you spoke to your Mom shows that you care, and you care very much.
She’s your Mom. She will understand you better than anyone, perhaps even better than you yourself. Of course she will have her issues and stuff she is battling with. But you are her son. That’s enormous.
It’s probably because of your Mom you have developed into an interesting, very caring person . (Did I read somewhere else about charity work, volunteering, etc ?)
If you can, take this as an opportunity to talk to her and tell her really how you feel. Imagine, her sister has just died. Think about HER in this scenario. Be there for her. This could be a moment made to help you make some sort of peace with her. Be there for your Mom, the way she was there for you when you don’t even know or remember now.
If this is inappropriate please let me know. I just needed to say this to you as a ‘pseudo’ friend.
Regards. Marie.
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Thanks for saying so. I just can’t believe what came out, and hours later, I’m still trying to figure out what exactly I was going on about. I’m sure 90% was straight venting and overreaction. It took me a bit to place the feeling: it was like Ralphie from “A Christmas Story” when he has enough and beats the hell out of the bully kid and swears a blue streak, “speaking in strange tongues” and not knowing what was coming out… But my crazy sister-by-choice was willing to talk and we shared a lot, and she told me a lot of what you said here.
Hugs,
–Tally
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I hesitated to hit “Like”, this really isn’t something you like. So I’m commenting too. I’ve been there, more than once. I’ve been writing a post for a week now that is well over 1,000 words and I’m only about a third of the way through, I think it’ll have to be a multi-parter. I know how the explosion of words can take over, almost like you’re watching yourself spew the words like flame thrower, no control. When it’s over, you feel a combination of relief the fire is out married with utter depression at knowing what you actually said hurt all parties involved including yourself. The only advice I have is that, in the case of family, there is opportunity to forgive and forget or, at the very least, forgive. It happens eventually given enough time. It’s going to make you turn inward, just don’t get lost in the rabbit hole to the point where you can’t find your way out. Been there and done that too, for several years.
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Thanks for saying so (and I agree it’s strange to say “like” for something like this–why not an “agree” button or something, that’d be better). I went out to my car and bawled in frustration and remorse–it’s like every emotion decided to make an appearance. It’s been an exhausting day and I still have to get home…but at least I’m calm enough to take a good look around at things and see what the hell I can do for myself (and when to call my stepdad about what happened…once I know what happened). Though I’m often excitable and tongue-tied, this is the first time I’m aware of that I’ve gotten such a profound verbal amnesia. Huh.
But thanks–it’s a crazy feeling to be so out of control and vicious, and I really hope something can be salvaged for the better.
Hugs,
–Tally
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First of all your human, you have emotions and your obviously carrying pain inside. The phone call happened, it can’t be changed, that’s the past. Don’t dwell on it because you can’t change anything…… start again. Apologise once then let it go. Keep writing how you feel, even if you don’t post it. Trust me you are NOT a bad person, just a bit lost. Or write your Mum a letter explaining how you feel inside.
You have a beautiful soul believe me you just need a little bit of help to sort out your emotions ❤️
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You mentioned getting some professional help. Sounds like an idea that may help you sort some things out. I’m in the middle of doing a post on the extreme shortcomings in our nation’s lack of desire to address mental health issues. As fellow blogger, W1NT3L replied, you certainly are not alone. I’m afraid I am in that category of people who sympathize (when sympathy is likely not what you desire) and unable to empathize because I’ve never walked a mile in your shoes, and likely never will. I’m degreed in the behavioral sciences but that’s just academics.. and not real world experience. I understand the struggle but I don’t fully understand how YOU struggle. The only thing I can say is that in the end we are all only human… and while nature has seen to it that we adapt and evolve very well physically, we are all vulnerable to the societies we create that spawn the inequalities of personal interaction and emotional existence; the eternal battle between nature (genetics) and nurture (parents & family).
Rather reminds me… “See that signpost up ahead? That’s your next stop.. the twilight zone.”
And then we wake up to a new president. 🙂
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Yeah, looking into lots of changes, and ways to clear my head that won’t break the bank, but still looking out for professional help. How things get to feel so overwhelming so fast, and how my temper started to fly so fast, scared the crap out of me. Had a civil conversation with mom earlier, actually…she had a question for me that was simple and polite, and not about the “explosion.” We may come to terms somehow, if we haven’t already. Working on it, and stress reduction’s taking time, but when I make it a habit, it should go well.
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