ok. so somehow the fact that I plan to clean my own room turned into me rejecting my mom to the point that she's nearly in tears. can I get a "what the fuck?" ...I thought we were copacetic following the weird little outburst when I first got back; when I first got back, I freaked a little, tried to negotiate the space I needed, but ended up too frustrated too quickly... and in the end, I told her from the other side of my door that yes, I would like her to leave for awhile. the doctor said something about it being difficult to return to a relationship when you've had some time to differentiate, to live more independently. I did all these things "on my own" in WI - although I was mostly able to do them because my dad was six feet away, or Sara was with me, or I was at Rogers, etc. (And that mostly was an only; I'm trying to give myself a tiny bit of credit.) anyway. I'm really glad the doctor said that thing yesterday about relationships being rough to return to after an autonomous time because otherwise I'd think myself a complete ...um... meanie right now. Well, I'd think a worse word than that. But it wouldn't be true because I am a good person (and doggonit people like me, etc) ... and this is just suckage.
I can't explain it exactly. I made some joke before I left about how there was no way I'd come home to a clean room (always a goal when we went on trips when I was younger.) and my mom agreed there was no way, laughing, because she wanted to make it clear she wasn't taking that as a hint. I didn't mean it as one. Then I guess I made a few other comments along the same joke. Before and after I got back. I said something about how she helped John clean through his apartment, how she could take on her own (immaculate) room in one day, so why not mine? - and so forth. She thought I was serious. What the fuck? She thought I was seriously upset that she was not helping me clean and reorganize my room. I talked at the point of Mary-volume that generally characterizes yelling. Do I need to explain to my mom that at 19 years old, I do not expect her to help me pick up after myself? Did I really have to *say*, "It seems like this is some sort of let-down or rejection now," so she could tell me, no, it's just that she really could help, and she thought I wanted her help, and now she needs to switch gears. That is, if I really have decided I don't want her help. "Yes, Mom, you need to switch gears. I don't know exactly when I'll have that stuff in the living room back in my room" - this morning when I woke up, she'd taken the clothes out, as well as the bags of yarn - it's much easier to be in the space. Clarify: I haven't slept in my room since I returned- because with the ear-buzzing, the mess is too much for me to handle. I need space externally because I'm so over-full emotionally. So, my mom went in my room and did some nice things, and now it's easier to be in here. Now, I can start cleaning. Now, she wants to know if I don't just want to hear the ideas she had. This is the point at which I really lost my mind. She has ideas. She has a plan to organize my life, not today, but over several days, and it's just like... doesn't it even occur to you that I have *so little* in my life to manage? (Yes, yes, gobs of emotional work, I know...but come on. I have one room and one outside interaction with a live person to my name. That, the computer, and the phone to manage.) And she wants to come up with a system of organization, the way she did for my brother... Aigh. I know she helped John tremendously. I know he occasionally felt tread upon also. But for Godd's sake, I was joking. And she knew it, at some point. And she was near tears this morning! She's honestly upset that I don't want her help. "It's ok if I don't want it, but she *could* help." I almost started crying when she said that because it made me think of a story Sara told me about climbing the rock wall, and bypassing a helpful ledge to take a more difficult route, and when Dwight stopped her saying that to take the ledge would have been cheating. Having them tell her the hard thing - for her - is to accept the help, that the most difficult path *for her* is to accept it from someone else, and so not only does she not need to do everything the most difficult way, but in all honesty - it's more difficult to lean on someone or use a ledge. I have these thoughts since I left, things I heard people say to residents that have stayed with me - and I keep questioning what I'm doing. It's really unnecessary because I'm in a different place, and I ...well, I wish I knew that. I do know that; I'm just... it's probably another way of trying to hold onto them. but when my mom said she could help, if I'd let her, I felt like I was trying to do things the hard way, like I was being unreasonable about accepting this from her... when really, I just want to know I can do some things on my own. I mean, the doctor and I started a gradual "how Mary can keep her room clean without entirely changing her ways" program months ago... It just got overtaken by more prominent issues. And maybe it's wrong (but it's not wrong!) to prefer I do this with him, but I don't want her to do it. I don't. I don't want the doctor to come in here and do it either; I just want to take care of my own life, with help... not with people who swoop in and do it all. I want to alternate moving my fins and my tail and get myself out of this spot. Not because I'm stubborn... just because there's so little I know I can do. And if you take that away from me - if I let her take that away from me - which she doesn't even mean to do... There'll be even less left. And I don't want to do something destructive, like - for instance - saying, "Well, I can be sick on my own." I don't want to do that! I won't do that. So, what the hell, can I please keep and deal with my own mess?
She thinks I'll leave the clothes in the living room for weeks. I would never do that. The pile might be in my room for weeks, but it would never be somewhere else that way. I thanked her for making the space a bit clearer, so that I can get started... I'm grasping at straws right now. I want to call Sara, who's in programming, and tell her I understand. Again. About her mom. And I feel awful saying that... I love my mom, and she's so good to me. And when I told people at Rogers I'm living with her and (once or twice) they looked a little wary of that, I wanted to rattle off the details of her transformation, and how things are so much better than they were. But the truth is - although she has transformed significantly, she's been going steadily downhill since December, since after her mom died, and the doc went into the hospital, and now as the money grows tighter and tighter, and months keep going by without a single job offer, no matter how hard she works... she's really not ok. And she's trying to be, for me, and I appreciate that, but my God, I don't need to make her cry when I first wake up by saying, "I can clean my room." I don't want to be ashamed of myself for thinking that giving her the reigns would give her too much control, for remembering Sara's face when her mom stripped her of all rights and responsibility... For knowing that look from the inside, for comparing her mom - who I feel for but am so angry with, who I don't necessarily love - to mine. I do love my mom. And six months ago, it was ok to be angry with her. It was ok to do things myself. So, what is this?
I'm now supposed to be guilty for not accepting help of a variety I don't need or want, even though I spent years dealing with the fact that I didn't have the option of getting the help I needed and that the help I was offered was a kind that took away any trust I had in myself to do anything. I can't do anything without her! I can't check out a fucking purchase. I can't go anywhere. I don't trust myself to do anything, and I want to change that.
Why does that have to be wrong? (And I will do it anyway...but why?)
~me