My mother seems to have a special talent for draining all of my energy. She starts talking and I go from feeling alive and motivated to do something and in a relatively pleasant mood to, well … exhausted. overwhelmed. very, very angry. And then it’s harder to do anything.
Over the weekend, it was my aunt and uncle. I thought all three of them, plus my cousin, were draining my energy. Or rather that their 4-way shouting match was overwhelming me. It certainly didn’t help, but I’m pretty convinced my mother was the one actively draining my energy. If nothing else, she’s the one who insisted on talking about the topic that prompted the argument, even though the conversation wasn’t going very well.
Yesterday Fox and I were going about our business getting ready to visit with Banji, who had come back to her parents’ house for the weekend. Mom called to say she was bringing home some soup for me; that sounded delicious so I decided to wait for her so we could enjoy the soup before leaving. When will I learn that “free food from Mom” isn’t free?
She comes in my (part of the) house and starts talking about the wedding celebration we’re planning to have with both my and Fox’s large, noisy, chaotic, wonderful families. I grab a notebook and start making a list in hopes of having some semblance of organization, and so my head won’t explode. She’s concerned about / we need to:
- find a hotel near the venue that offers complimentary breakfast for out-of-town guests
- contact the venue about
- coming to their next food tasting
- viewing the room where our event will take place
- including possible layouts
- and measurements so we can hold our own rehearsal if necessary
- asking when the buffet will be set up
- decide what I’m wearing and acquire the necessary items
- decide on a color and send swatches to members of the bridal party with guidelines
- guys in black pants and dress shirts, vests of desired color
- female-bodied individuals who are willing to wear a skirt in dresses of the desired color
- coordinate transportation and hotel rooms for the bridal party
- I should spend the night before the event with Banji, Fox with his best man
- clearly communicate expectations/responsibilities to bridal party
- contact our photographer
- negotiate costs including meal, travel, and accommodations (if necessary)
- what, specifically, we want to photograph
- written contract
- music for the procession, dinner, and dancing
- be sure to include songs she likes
You have to understand, my mother does not give me organized lists. She does not create PowerPoint presentations to separate her ideas into manageable chunks of related information. She does not allow for a Q&A session at the end. She does not give a 15-minute break. She just starts talking, and I have to listen. I have to have answers. I have to follow her as she moves from one topic to another without warning and goes off on tangents. I have to do something to show her that some action will be taken to ease her anxiety about whatever it is.
I made the list to try and salvage my own (and Fox’s) sanity – and so I can show it to her the next time she tries to plan my entire wedding in one conversation. Maybe instead of talking about everything again, we can focus on and accomplish something.
The conversation was actually a lot shorter than I thought, but to look at Fox and me you’d think a small tornado had come through. He said he was very frustrated. He looked exhausted. I felt exhausted. Derailed. And pressured to do something right away, never mind that we’d been in the process of getting ready to go somewhere. Never mind that someone was waiting for us. Someone I care about deeply.
I searched online and found several hotels within 5 miles of the venue, five of which offer some kind of complimentary breakfast. I emailed a list to Mom and told her she’s welcome to contact them with her questions. Why she couldn’t do the search if she was so concerned is beyond me, but it’s done. I’ve thrown her a bone to chew on instead of my sanity.
She’s like a cat who’s been thrown into water clawing her way on top of a flotation device (me). Or a spider with a fly caught in her web. I’m her worry stone, and soon she’s going to wear a hole in me.
I love my mother. Really, I do. I have so much to be grateful to her for. And I truly believe that she loves and cares about me.
But I just have enough of my own shit to deal with without her draining all my energy. I’m already on a roller coaster; it’s intense enough without her making the drops taller and the turns sharper and the upside-down loops more nauseating. The last thing I need is for her to disable the safety bar that’s the only thing keeping me from flying off in some random direction, probably to my doom.
I need to feel safe and have some stability in my relationships. Is that so much to ask?