Maybe if it were my children, my husband, or even my employer asking me some of these questions, it wouldn’t bother me so much…but…of all people…it’s my mother. 

In case none of my other posts have made this clear (or you’re one of the nosy people reading this who doesn’t actually know me), I’m a grown woman in my 30s.  I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions, and most of them are actually quite good.  Yes, sometimes my mind tends to wander, but I have enough impulse control and common sense not to act on those things.  So why does this woman feel the need to control every aspect of my life these days?  Even the way I’ve chosen to raise my children is under attack.  My husband can do no wrong in her eyes.  I have two younger sisters on whom she could lavish some of this attention, but she chooses not to…so why ME??

I guess I should mention she and my father live with me, my husband, and children.  Yeah, I know what you’re thinking.  I’ve asked for it by living in the same home as my parents.  Well, let me point out that sharing space with someone doesn’t mean you are obligated to share everything with them.  Anyone who has ever had a roommate (especially in a college dorm) can attest to that.  And don’t give me this “it’s your mother, she loves you” crap.  It’s about control.  It’s about her wanting to run every aspect of my life.  It’s about her not respecting the fact that I am a capable adult with a life.

Know why my mind wanders?  It’s because I feel trapped and want out.  I feel as if I’m being backed into a corner with no chance of escape.  I can’t even go into the bathroom without hearing her voice trailing after me, asking me where I’m going!  

On one hand, it can’t be easy to be in poor health (mental and physical).  About two months ago she had to quit working and is now on disability due to various issues.  She’s recovering from another cervical spine surgery.  She’s young, too, only 54.  Even when her health was better, all she wanted to do was stay at home in her room.  She’s never been the type to get involved in anything…other than her children’s business or my father’s. 

I definitely sound resentful.  Resentful rambling.  Quite productive.  I AM resentful.  According to at least one of her doctors, the main reason she is in the shape she is in today has to do with poor choices she has made.  Her diet, continuing to smoke even after being told to quit (especially in light of the types of surgeries she has had), not following through with other recommendations made by physicians regarding medications, taking far too many narcotics and other types of prescription pain relievers…I could go on. 

If only it were physical issues we were dealing with.  There are mental and emotional, as well.  I won’t bore you with the details.  It’s enough knowing she suffers from severe depression and anxiety.

Why am I angry?  Why can’t I bring myself to feel or at least attempt to show some compassion?  I think it’s because I can’t understand why she would rather do everything in her power to find someone else to blame for her condition, rather than concentrating on doing what is within her control to make things better for herself.  She’s finally in a place where she has nothing else she has to do…no job to tie her down, no children she has to raise.  Why can’t she work on her issues and work toward getting better instead of sitting in this house day after day?  There are days when I swear I can actually hear glee in her voice as she’s telling me what’s wrong with her and how she feels so sick…yet she’s able to keep yammering after me like a demented Energizer Bunny twin limping around the house. 

I know…that was mean.  And one of these days I’m going to feel horrible about having written this.  But today is not that day.

Sigh…maybe if I can stay angry long enough, I won’t have to deal with the pain, frustration, helplessness, and guilt (yes, guilt) I feel about not being able to help her understand she still has so much to live for.  And the guilt and frustration I feel about not being able to put my arms around her and give her the comfort I know she desperately needs, even though she isn’t able to ask for it in any other way than nagging me to death.  I’m simply not able to do it.

Frigid and unyielding…that’s me.  I just want to be left alone.

The unreasonable side of me is itching to get away from life as I know it (and have been quite happy with for over a decade) and act impulsively.  Get away from being a wife and mother, get away from being a daughter, get away from being a dependable employee, get away from all that is related to current life…and simply reinvent myself.  Not forever…just for a little while.  Until I can prove to my unreasonable side that life in my current world is actually quite good and far from pointless. 

It’s too bad that there isn’t a pill one could take or a magic helmet one could put on that would allow for a time of restful sleep where fantasy could be life for a little while.  That would be a great alternative for me.  If I could have 24 to 48 hours that were all mine to do with as I please and then could erase them, leaving no trace of them other than my own memory of them…how great would that be? 

For instance, have you ever been standing across from a perfect stranger, made eye contact with him, and suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to throw yourself at him in such a way you’d get a first hand account of what his tonsils tasted like?  I find myself having many moments where random things like this are popping into my head, begging me to react in a completely wreckless fashion…in a way that’s totally unlike me. 

It’s insanity.  It really is.  The really insane part is that I’m starting to wonder if I acted once on impulse, just got it over with and did something “small” but stupid, if that would help to get all of this mess out of my system.  In the area of my mind between my reasonable and unreasonable sides, there lies this little voice reminding me that there are always consequences.  Even if no one else were to find out, I would know. 

That little voice also reminds me that I would probably not be impressed at all with the outcome of such a little venture, that it would not live up to the excitement and satisfaction my unreasonable side is telling me awaits, and that I would end up completely disgusted. 

I love that little voice.  And I know that I’ll eventually get past all of this.

Why do I fantasize about things I don’t really want or need rather than make happen the things that are right in front of me that I can improve on?  Am I simply trying to squelch an unconscious desire for true intimacy by fantasizing about interesting people who come into my life?  Maybe so…do I pay for therapy?

I think maybe what would be productive for me is to use my creative abilities to write a book.  I seem to have this need for some type of romance, and maybe I could channel this into something useful.  Women need more role models to encourage them to NOT throw themselves into a physical relationship before marriage.  Why not have the heroine be a gorgeous, strong, and buxom creature (hmm…narcism at it’s finest) who makes the man of her dreams wait until he says “I do” before letting him do more than kiss her chastely?

Man, do I really want to know more about him…

Sigh…time for therapy.

Very nice smile.  Very patient.

Sigh…time for therapy. 

I know there’s a reason why God puts everyone in my path that he does.  Is it simply for the benefit of my children’s artistic sensibilities?  Will I end up the merry widow and fall hopelessly head over heels for this person?  Kind of morbid, but interesting material for a book.

Once I say something out loud and realize how ridiculous it is, I tend to move on quickly.  Good thing…

Maybe it’s maturity I’m lacking.  It takes maturity to practice self control.  This would definitely explain my penchant for shoe shopping.  I can be a bit impulsive sometimes when it comes to money. 

It takes me back to that thing I heard a few weeks ago.  We ask people to pray for us when there is something we don’t want to do, yet we have to do it.  I think there’s definitely some truth to this.  It’s not so much that I want to give up my vanity…it’s that I don’t want to have to PAY for my choices.  It would be so nice to be able to do exactly what I want to do, WHEN I want to do it, and NOT have to EVER pay any consequences.  Not run out of money…not risk my family…not be fired from my job…just do what I want and not ever have to worry about what comes next. 

Sigh…Maybe maturity comes in when a person realizes it can never be that way if you really want to LIVE, rather than just float along at the mercy of Mother Impulsivity.

If the pure bottom line motivation of our service is supposed to be to bring glory to God, why do we spend so much time picking each other apart instead of acting in love?  Each one of us is called to be a different part of the body.  Do our noses hold our eyes in contempt because they strive to see instead of smell?  There may be some offensive odors out there, but I don’t think the eyes have it any easier.  Imagine some of the things out there to be seen.  In both cases, enough things exist to turn our stomachs.  At the same time, there are many beautiful things to both see and smell.  It’s all a matter of how we choose to view our circumstances.

Back to the above—if we truly believe God keeps His promises and that He is constantly working in our lives, how can we possibly ignore that He is, as well, working in the lives of everyone around us?  Doesn’t His word apply to ALL?  I have yet to see it written in scripture, “Now this passage only applies to Joan Smith born June 3, 1952, in St. Mary’s Hospital in Boomer, North Carolina.”  Yet for some reason, we tend to come off in our daily lives that we believe certain promises were meant for only me, myself, and I.