The Mother Black Mamba
My mother is the only person I know who can apologize and make it sound like she hates you and wants to throw you down some stairs. Honestly. My mother. Often I wonder how such an idealistic, loving, cute little woman can be so bitingly cruel. The woman knows how to hurt people. She's like a viper - she just comes out of nowhere with her aggression and then, in a split second, it is gone and she's her "normal" self again.
I bring this up because it's something that, over the years, I increasingly see in myself and that is terrible. I'm trying to stunt all growth in that area. See...the woman keeps nagging me about certain things which are already weighing heavy on my mind. As if I could ever forget them. These are important things that I go to sleep thinking about and wake up thinking about. I call my parents, sometimes for support, sometimes for specific advise, but more often than not it's just because I need some familiarity - some comfort, some chat with someone who's known me my whole life. And that's it. No frills, no 20 volumes of self-help manuals. I just need your voice.
But my mother doesn't understand that. She would be insulted if I tried to explain it to her. She would be angry at me for making her feel like she's in the wrong. My mother desparately wants to be right. Where this obsession stems from, I don't know. She was nagging me about this thing that she has nagged me about so many times before...okay...I'll just say it - the whole transfer issue. She was nagging me about getting in touch with one of my teachers for a reference and I very politely (because I've learned from experience that you can't do it any other way) said to her "I know - you told me before."
Then, like the viper-woman she is, she shot back at me in a tone that I can only describe as stone-fucking-cold, "Alright then, Ralph.*" I mean...you had to hear the killer tone in her voice. I'm thousands of miles away from her and that hateful tone came through, loud and clear. And then, as usual, after a pause --- she starts talking about something else again.
She kills me. There are issues between the two of us that won't ever go away. I've known that for a long time. I don't think it ever crosses her mind. This is, most likely, a big part of the problem. But Black Mamba doesn't take criticism very well. So I don't talk to her about it.
"Mom. You and I are totally different. We've grown apart because you don't see the person who I've come to be and you don't tolerate anyone else but your own clone."
"SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!"
*mbmn.
I bring this up because it's something that, over the years, I increasingly see in myself and that is terrible. I'm trying to stunt all growth in that area. See...the woman keeps nagging me about certain things which are already weighing heavy on my mind. As if I could ever forget them. These are important things that I go to sleep thinking about and wake up thinking about. I call my parents, sometimes for support, sometimes for specific advise, but more often than not it's just because I need some familiarity - some comfort, some chat with someone who's known me my whole life. And that's it. No frills, no 20 volumes of self-help manuals. I just need your voice.
But my mother doesn't understand that. She would be insulted if I tried to explain it to her. She would be angry at me for making her feel like she's in the wrong. My mother desparately wants to be right. Where this obsession stems from, I don't know. She was nagging me about this thing that she has nagged me about so many times before...okay...I'll just say it - the whole transfer issue. She was nagging me about getting in touch with one of my teachers for a reference and I very politely (because I've learned from experience that you can't do it any other way) said to her "I know - you told me before."
Then, like the viper-woman she is, she shot back at me in a tone that I can only describe as stone-fucking-cold, "Alright then, Ralph.*" I mean...you had to hear the killer tone in her voice. I'm thousands of miles away from her and that hateful tone came through, loud and clear. And then, as usual, after a pause --- she starts talking about something else again.
She kills me. There are issues between the two of us that won't ever go away. I've known that for a long time. I don't think it ever crosses her mind. This is, most likely, a big part of the problem. But Black Mamba doesn't take criticism very well. So I don't talk to her about it.
"Mom. You and I are totally different. We've grown apart because you don't see the person who I've come to be and you don't tolerate anyone else but your own clone."
"SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!"
*mbmn.
This entry was posted
on October 06, 2004 at 10:48 PM.
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