My Mother III
Apparently I don’t communicate, because I don’t say much. Everything needs a comment. Or two. Or ten. Or at least five minutes of a monologue.
I made a mistake of admitting to having drunk two beers tonight, and I immediately was informed of how beer is fattening and how many calories it contains. Ok, whatever, what’s your point of saying that? No point at all. So why did you say that? And then there was the monologue of how I treat her badly and she’s afraid to say anything because I might get upset, and how she is a victim (oh, she can play the victim very professionally) and how she cares and how I don’t care and how I don’t communicate at all, and how she communicates with the whole world, and everyone tolerates her except me (“because they’re not assertive enough, mom”), and how I only think of my own needs and I don’t at all think about my family’s needs.
Mom, I only said that I didn’t like what you said and how I don’t like such comments, and you go on about how I am selfish. Look where your monologue is heading.
Silence.
Offended expression.
Every time I would like to say something important to her, I feel that if I tried, only a long scream would come out. I feel like screaming, very loudly and for quite a while. So I don’t say anything important. When I sometimes force myself to, She Feels Offended.
Sleep
When a beloved one dies, one should probably feel sad.
I feel lightly.
I had to shut down my empathy for the last few days. If I hadn’t, I’d probably fall apart more than my father and my uncle, looking at them both. To feel such sadness from a loved person isn’t easy and I’m not brave enough to face that.
When a beloved one dies, you should feel more empty.
But I’ve been feeling emptiness after her for the last few years. I’ve started even before she stopped recognizing me. I was probably too impatient, I don’t know. I still feel empty, but I’m somehow not more sad than before.
Sleep well, grandma. <3
