I’ve been writing about trying to control my temper beacuse I had an episode with my mother last night. It’s been a while beacuse normally, I’m really good at avoiding sensitive topics because normally, I just have to listen to her talk about my father for twenty minutes to a half hour and tell her I’m doing fine. I learned a long time agoo that it’s better not to talk about anything of substance with her.Most of the time, it’s easy beacuse she wants to talk obsessively about my father with an occasional complaint about her own health thrown in for good measure. Or what a tough time she is having with the live-in aide. (For helping with my father with his dementia.)
This was something my brother and I learned a long time ago. Not to tell our mother anything of real importance because one, she would worry about it; two, she would want to talk about it; and three, most likely, she would disapprove of it.
One time when my brother was traveling, he ran into a minor issue with his credentials (well, his girlfriend’s), and he had to go ahead of her. That meant that he spent one day alone in London. London, where, as you know, (most) people speak English as their first language. Where there are signs and everything in English. My mother told me she was really worried about him and prayed for him to be ok.
I told her that he would be just fine (mentioning all the English that happens there). I said I admired him for doing so much traveling and basically whatever he wanted. He’s an adventurer, and I really appreciate that about him.
Another thing my brother and I had agreed upon was that we would not tell our mother anything about each other. I have half-joked with him that I wished he hadn’t told them about my medical crisis. I wasn’t blaming him because I understand why he did it, but it would have been so much easier overall if they hadn’t been here. The only thing I really needed her for was to towel off after a shower, and I could have managed it myself if I had to.
It was really stressful, and I think I would have done better overall on my own. I told my brother he should have just told my parents I was visiting Ian for two weeks. I was joking, but I really wasn’t. I really prefer living on my own, and it was hard to hav ethem around 24/7 for three months. About a month-and-half into it, I was messaging with Ian and saying that I could not do it. I was so stressed and tense, and I was actually thinking I would rather have died than come back for this shit.
I was in a very dark place is what I’m trying to say. He had been in the army when he was younger, and he told me something I’ll never forget. When he was in basic training, he had a drill sergeant who told him, “Don’t think of how long you have to go. Just think of today. You can do one day. Anyone can do one day.”
Yes, it’s a cliche. Yes, it’s something that anyone can (and has) said. But for whatever reason, when Ian said it to me, it really hit home. And, if I couldn’t make it day by day, then I could further break it down to hour by hour. And, yes, minute by minute if needed. That really helped me to grit my teeth and get through it. Not easily and not happily, but I did it.
Here’s my issue with religion. Well, one of them. The one that I have with my mother. Because it’s belief and not anything based in facts, there’s nothing I can really say to refute it. Even if there were facts to rebut what she believed, she simply would dismiss them. Any time we have a religious argument, it basically boils down to her saying what she believed and me saying I didn’t believe it.
In the latest argument, it was about Israel and the US going to war with Iran. So , yes, political, but also religious–at least that’s what it devolved into. And there was a point where we were really pressing each other’s buttons with neither of us breaking down. I was put in the position of defending a country I really did not want to defend, but only because the other countries disgusted me even more.
I don’t remember how we got to religion in general, but as she was going on about her beliefs, I could feel the rage bubbling up inside. She said that she respected my belief, but I didn’t think she actually did. To be fair, I didn’t exactly respect her beliefs, either. I accepted they were her beliefs, yes, but that didn’t mean I actually respected them. It’s hard to respect beliefs that were sexist and deeply homophobic, to be honest.
I think it’s more that I just don’t want to hear about them–any more than my mother would want to hear about my queer, genderqueer, polyamorous beliefs. She was not happy when I came out as bit to her, and she most definitely would not be happy to hear that I choose agender as the label for my gender identity. Currently. That’s not to say that it won’t change at a certain point because I don’t love it, but it’s the closest to what feels comfortable for me.
The last time I told my mother something of importance was probably when I told her i was going to study Taiji. You would think that’s not very controversial, but she’s a devout Christian who has heard some pretty wild things about Taiji, apparently. Probably because it’s very common in Taiwan and maybe connected to Buddhism (which is the dominant religion in Taiwan)? I’m not sure why, but wehn I told my mother I was thinking of studying Taiji, she pulled a face and said a bunch of nonsense. She ended with, “You’ll be inviting the devil to dance on your spine.” Which, to be honest, sounded kind of awesome. The devil dancing on my spine? Yes, please!
I didn’t bother saying anything. Well, I might have said it was nonsense, but that would have been about it. I knew better than to try to convince her of anything she didn’t want to believe. That was roughly twenty years ago, and I haven’t told her anything of importance since. Whenever we talk, I’m fine! Everything is great! I might tell her when I had a cold or something harmless like that, just to give her a morsel, but nothing more important than that.
I’m done for today. More tomorrow.