Tuesday, November 24, 2009

I'm cheating on my mother

I switch my phone between vibrate and ring a thousand times each day. On vibrate as I walk into class, ring as I walk out of class. On vibrate as I walk into work, ring as I walk out. Today Josh's dad called during one of my classes. As I walked out I called him back on his work number, worried about what he would say. Something is wrong with Josh? They found out he's been taking stuff from their kitchen to bring to ours? Something else?

The whole time we were going through the hi-how-are-yous, I was thinking, "Get to the point!" After a couple of minutes, Josh's father told me his mom was going to dinner and a show with friends and asked if I'd like to meet him for dinner tonight. "By myself?" It came out really squeaky and I was embarrassed right away. But yes, he meant just me, and said he spoke with Josh already who agreed to supervise my sisters through homework and dinner.

After school I raced home to change into nice clothes and then raced to the theater district meet Josh's dad at Per Se. I was running late and barely got there on time, and was kind of sweaty and frazzled when I arrived. This is not how you want to be walking into a restaurant so fancy there are no prices on the menu. That always makes me nervous.

So we get seated and Josh's father is asking how school is going, if tutoring is bringing in as much as the diner job did, how my sisters are doing. I couldn't figure out why we were doing this. It was bothering me, which pissed me off because I couldn't enjoy the fancy meal.

Finally after dessert comes, Josh's dad says he's sure I'm wondering why he asked me out to dinner. When I admit yes, that I was worried something was wrong, he laughs and tells me the reason. That every Sunday when me and my sisters go to our fire family dinners and Josh goes to their house, they've come to the decision that they are worried about me. That I am spending so much energy on watching over my sisters, and working at school and work, but nobody is watching over me.

It made me feel bad. Like everyone looks at me and sees someone missing a huge piece of something that I didn't notice. There were tears in my eyes and I got embarrassed and looked down so Josh's father wouldn't see. This was the point when I was angriest - that the nice meal was officially ruined.

Josh's dad went on to say that he and his wife would like to check in with me about once a week, and that they wanted to demonstrate that they cared about what is going on. I'm not explaining it as well as he did. I felt like such shit. For eight years I have been telling myself I don't need what I don't have and to have someone else deciding there's this gaping hole and they want to fill it? I know they mean it in a really nice way and I should be thankful, but if I am then that screws up being able to do life without needing it.

4 comments:

miSz tUna said...

I think, after so many years, if I were in your place, initially, I would be pissed off too.

Yet there's a small part of me would rationally see that they're just being caring and responsible adults. God will pay them their kindness, so let them be kind. I don't necessarily have to desperately accept what they offer, instead, I could just merely let them do what they feel needs to be done, as long as it does not interfere with my plans and how I choose to manage my life.

Now it's just the matter of whether that small, rational part is going to be heard, or ignored.

For some reason, back then, I was angry a lot of time at a lot of people and a lot of things. After some time, I just feel tired to be angry. It's so tiring to be worrying about everything.

Through all those difficult time in your life, you've been strong. So I believe that you will remain strong in the future, no matter what life throws at you.

Forgive me if you feel that I'm, like, being nosy. It's just what I thought. Take care :)

thordora said...

oh honey I've been there.

But take what you need. Not necessarily what they offer-but what YOU need. You aren't cheating on your mother-she would want you to be happy, to be supported, to have a fallback if possible.

You are not any less strong for taking help, assuming the help isn't presented in that cloying pity way.

It sounds like they truly care about all of you-but I know how hard taking help is.

That anger is natural. We work so hard to not need that even the idea of having to let someone hold us up is infuriating.

OTRgirl said...

After my Mom died, my Mother-in-Law kept trying to step into the void. It really pissed me off and made me withdraw from her for a few years. I mean, I still talked to her, but I didn't initiate the calls very often. In some ways, their care and concern emphasizes the hole where your Mom used to be. Just the existence of the hole is enough to be angry about. Anyone trying to fill it adds to it.

Just saying, the anger is natural and normal.

I totally hear you about not wanting to be the 'needy' person. I HATE having to wait for someone else to meet my needs. I'd rather go ahead and do it myself thank you very much. Allowing myself to feel my needs and ask others to meet them has been an ongoing life lesson/challenge.

I like what the commenter said about taking what you need within what they are trying to give you.

Anonymous said...

There is a sort of security in knowing you have only yourself on whom to depend. It would be best to have the person on whom to automatically depend in your life, but, when you don't have that, being resigned to having only yourself feels more certain than not accepting that and having to each time a need arises scramble to figure out whom to contact. When you know you have only yourself, you don't think to ask others, you don't have to wait until you can talk with others, you don't have to bother explaining to others what you already well understand, you don't have to answer their uninformed questions, you don't have to worry what they will say or do if you don't follow their advice, you don't have to justify your decisions, you keep things private. So, it makes total sense that the prospect of changing how you handle things would shake you.

You already knew you had this gaping hole. Every time you write about needing your mother, you are acknowledging that you need what you don't have. It isn't that you've been running your life without that need, but rather despite that need. That's an incredibly tough job. You are very strong.