previously posted on 23Summers
I love my mother but I don’t like her. Well, let me try to clarify that. Its not that I don’t like her. But if she were a regular person that I may know from work or something, she would be just that. I wouldn’t hang out with her or text her and have conversation. She’d just be Joyce: a woman that I work with. Last night we had a conversation (more like a debate) that only proved to me that for every thing we have in common, there are 100 things that we don’t. We’re like wearing timbs in the summer time. It might have been trendy in 1999 but in 2013 it’s forceful and sweaty. I sometimes feel bad because I know she wants to have a good relationship with me. She tries to talk to me and wants to engage with me but I often feel like Kanye and she’s paparazzi. Out of respect for her and to spare her feelings, I didn’t say out loud that I don’t want to talk to her at all most times. But by me trying to spare her feelings, I come off as cold and heartless to her. How do you tell a mother that her misogyny and over protectiveness is why her first born locks herself in her room when she’s home to avoid talking? The fact that she thinks I don’t care about her feelings is a result of me sparing them and I will always look like the bad guy. But I’ll take the L I suppose. We just cannot communicate and we’re both frustrated. The difference is that I’ve basically accepted the fact that I probably won’t have the relationship that other young women do when they can say their mothers are also their best friends. My mother still wants it. I feel like I’m trying to break up with her but she won’t let me.
My 8th grade teacher (who was also my ballet instructor for 7 years and math tutor in high school) served as my replacement for a mom/bff. I always admired how she is with her own children who are around my age and she treats me like one of her own too. I can tell her any and everything. She listens without judgment and still delivers sound advice that a mother would give her daughter. I know it hurts my mother to hear me call my teacher “Mom” and maybe I shouldn’t. But part of me wants to show her that this is how I wish we interacted and I hope she would try and chill a bit. She doesn’t though. She’s always wearing her white wig, black robe and has her gavel in hand when she comments on everything from my clothes, friends, and even my sexuality (she’s not sure if I’m gay or straight because I kiss my friends on the cheek).
My mother is an awesome mother and I would be lying if I said that she was a terrible parent. She sacrifices everyday for my brother and I and does everything she can for us. She cares even if I feel like it’s too much at times. As far as moms go, she’s got that down. I just can’t talk to her. I’m writing letters to my future daughter and I can only hope that when she reads them, I will be a combination of the kind of parent that my mother is and the kind that my “Mom” is. I don’t want my daughter to feel that she can’t talk to me because of how differently we see things. I want to her to feel like I’m listening and trying to understand and I hope she will do the same. I hope she will love and respect me as well as like me. I know very little about parenting but I know what its like to feel like you can’t be yourself in your own home. It sucks.