Freeeeeee! Wahoo! I feel like shouting at the top of my lungs–and I can! I can do whatever the fuck I want, whenever the fuck I want, and there ain’t no one to say boo about it! Except for my cats, and they don’t say boo–they just hiss when they disapprove.
Why am I blathering on and on about freedom? Because, ladies and gentlemen, my mom went back to Taiwan this morning after a six-week visit, and oh, do I feel fine! I love my mom. We get along fine for the most part. Yes, we clashed on the weight issue, but I expected that. She didn’t mention me making teh bebes even once, and that’s a HUGE step for her, considering that last time she said, half-jokingly, that I could adopt a black baby to match my cats. She hasn’t given up on me getting married, though. Still, she wasn’t obnoxious about it, so we’ve come along way, baby.
Why, then, do I feel so liberated today? First of all, six weeks is a damn long time, no matter what. I like living by myself, so adjusting to anyone living in my space for any length of time is weird. Less than a week, yeah, I am fine with that. More than a week, and I start tweaking. Six weeks? I’m ready to poke my eyes out with a rusty fork.
Second, it’s damn tiring because the amount of activity I do increases tenfold. Ok, not quite that much, but still. We saw the family many times. We had the niece sleep over one night, and the middle nephew sleep over another night. We went to meetings. We went shopping. Good lord did we go shopping. We went for walks. We worked outside gardening and stuff. We went out to eat. The fact that there was such a disruption in my daily schedule most likely accounted for my night disturbances as well.
Third, I had to get used to someone talking at me whenever she wanted. I am someone who prefers silence first thing in the morning and first thing when I return from some place. I need to decompress. Plus, let’s face it, living alone has spoiled me for chitchat. I talk to my cats, and they talk to me, but that’s it. That’s the way I like it. I am in my own little world when I am at home (yes, I am the queen of my castle), and I am comfortable admitting that.
It’s hard for me to adjust to someone else’s way of doing things. I am a tad CDO (shut up, yes, just a tad!), and it discombobulates me when I have to change my routine. I find it comforting to plan out my day, even if I don’t follow my plan to a T. On bad days, it physically pains me to deviate from my outline. On my better days, I just have to think about it really hard for a minute or two. I am not very good at compromising, so having to find a way to interact with my mother on a daily basis was not easy.
And, let’s be honest here. I have to mute much of my personality when my mother is here. I don’t curse around her other than an occasional damn. Now, I don’t curse in real life nearly as much as I curse online, but I still do swear every now and again. In addition, my mother is a devout Christian, so there is that divide between us as well. Everything I’ve done with my life up to this point (except major in psychology in college) has been a repudiation of her life, and I feel that keenly when she is here.
Once, when she was deep in the throes of wanting me to reproduce, I considered for a nanosecond having a baby just to make her happy. Fortunately, good sense slapped me across the face in order to remind me that that’s a terrible reason to have a child, but it shook me that I had thought about it–even for a second. I know that my failure to give her grandchildren still bothers her deeply even if she’s resigned herself to it. That is often in the air between us when we’re together.
This time, her other pressure point was trying to persuade me to become a therapist. Now, I know I would be a good therapist if I could learn to properly shield myself from the negative emotions around me. I have all the skills needed to be a therapist–I would just need the training. I have thought for years about going back to grad school in order to get my Psy.D. (equivalent to a Ph.D. for clinical practice) in clinical psychology. I have gone as far as to research schools.
However, I have realized that it’s not meant to be. I have no desire to be a psychologist in this lifetime, no matter how good I’d be at it. Once again, I mostly was doing it for my mother. I mean, I would be good at it, and I would get some fulfillment out of it, but it’s not my calling. Again, I can’t help but feel I’m disappointing my mother by not wanting to follow in her footsteps.
Finally, now that she is gone, I can be as nekkid as I wanna be. Right now, I am blogging topless because I can and because it’s fucking hot here. Yes, I have a fan going, but it’s still stuffy in my computer room. I have the music cranking as loud as I want it, and I don’t have to worry about disturbing my mother. If I want to take a bath at three in the morning, I can (and I probably will). If I want to have someone spend the night, I can. If I want to spend the night out of the house, I can.
I can be 100% unfettered ME, and that feels so sweet, indeed.