I once heard that parenting never stops even when your child
has grown into adulthood. I am far from being a parent although most of my
friends have two kids by now. I don’t understand how it feels to hold something
you borne, how you would trade your life for your children, how somehow their
pain would hurt you more. It is a form of love I don’t get to exude right now
but I have been very lucky to be at the receiving end of it.
My mom and I have a positive relationship. We are close to
each other and love each other dearly. But like any relationship it is not all
smooth sailing. I have made her cry more than needed. No, not the oh-my
daughter-has-finally-graduated-how-I-am-so-proud kind of cry. Sure, she has
those moments too, very well thank you. But sometimes it happens that I would
just disregard her or make her feel insignificant or feel not necessarily
needed, she might question her whole existence and plummet into her mid life
post power syndrome depression. I am that mighty.
Long term relationship changes with time. In this case, most
probably I am the one who significantly change it. The me 15 years ago, around
the time I left home for high school could not possibly be the same as the
adult that I am now. While my mom, though has changed as well, remains in her
adulthood stage. Since I came back and started staying with my parents about 5
years ago, my mom and I began navigating a tricky relationship of two grown
women with their own stubborn minds. No longer am I easily controlled, no
longer she can play the role of the nourishing and protective provider. No longer we are the pair we used
to know.
I remember when I started making money and I could buy
things for myself. She told me that she felt like she was irrelevant since she
wanted to still buy me things but I didn’t need that anymore. Many more or less
similar incidents occur since then. Many times I have been insensitive and too
focused on what I wanted without the effort to understand what she is going
through. My biggest frustration unfortunately lies in the small things: she
packing my socks, keeping my items stored, telling me how to do things, tucking
in my shirt before I leave for work. Which leads to seemingly silly but often
fights and snappy comments from my side.
Most of the times I feel guilty after our fights and seeing
her hurt. Or perhaps realizing that she might not have enough support system to
help her figure this out – people don’t often talk or share about these things.
In my gnarly moments though I just couldn’t help it; I hated being treated like
I am still 12. We are both learning about this new buds in our relationship.
Unfortunately, not all buds blossom. Many fell before their time before some of
it can crack open.
It was the day that I was leaving for a 10 day trip and I had
always been a last minute packer which my mom hated. We had quite a sizeable
fight that day because I didn’t want to be helped, but being the annoying self
that I am I troubled her with emergency packing needs an hour before I was
supposed to leave. She was frustrated because I rejected most of her help
offers and blamed her on many fronts for the things I couldn’t find; I was
frustrated because she kept on telling me how to pack. I was planning to bring
a backpack and already had it ready and filled. She came in and suggested
(which appeared as a meddling to me) to bring a luggage instead so I didn’t
need to carry a heavy sack). Not wanting to aggravate things I complied and
moved my stuff to the luggage. But we were still fighting and I left the house
on a very sour note. When I left, my mom was crying and said she felt so
rejected. She told me to have fun and not worry about her.
Five year on I don’t know how we seem to still be on square
one on this matter. How are we such a slow learners and very stingy on
compassion. I left with guilt on my heart but at the same time anger with my
adulthood being violated (again). When I arrived in the airport I took two
luggages out of the taxi; one was the midsized one that I would put in as checked
in baggage and the other the smaller one my mom suggested to bring. In my heart
I grumbled; had I not listen to mom I would only need to roll one luggage and
now my two hands were full and I walked awkwardly with two. Perhaps it was
convenient in the aiport after I checked one in but how troublesome it would be
later on when I take the trains and move from one place to the other. I
regreted it so much and I wished she would just had left me packing on my own.
Earlier on that day, I was in an important meeting. The
project that I was involved in was in a crossroad as the many departments
involved failed to work well together. It was the day before the long Lebaran
holiday. Everybody had prepared presentation for the meeting with the big boss.
My director had asked me to prepare a history on how we were unable to deliver
things on time (the finance department had been slow in paying our consultant,
the work request was unclear and the scope kept changing, etc). I had narrated
a story with minimum fault on our side. We had all settled in when the big boss
came in and he said, “We are keeping this meeting short, 30 minutes max. I just
want that each department reflect and do some introspection. Nobody is wrong,
yet somehow here we are in a mess.We meet again in 2 weeks to talk it out. Just
reflect. If you think that the demand in this project is impossible, we will go
together to the owner and explain it.” I came into that morning meeting with a
bag of amunition and with a shield to protect me from flying arrows. There was
no war that morning because we came out of the room like a bunch of bamboo
eating pandas – all calm and slightly fluffed up.
What he said stuck with me through afternoon, through the
evening after my fight with mom. I ordered coffee in the airport, sat
down, finished a little work, my carry
on luggage beside me. I have cursed it enough if it had legs it would have run
home instead. I was sure I was still going to curse it throughout my trip as I drag
it on pebbled sidewalks. But perhaps it would be reminder as I have this thing
for 10 days to have the “presence” of my mom travelling along with me. To do my
own introspection and reflect on what has happened as I carry it up the stairs
to my AirBnB room. To have its inconvenience crawl up my back. To have this
sizable tangible object on what my mother’s deep love and care for me can look
and feel like. We all need some thinking on what we have said and done (and on
what we do not say and do not do for that matter).
Relationships that really matter would hurt you. Relationships
that really matter plough over your top soil until you become fertile ground
for other living things to grow. My mom is not mother Mary, and I am definitely
not a periwinkle twinkling fairy. The grown woman that I am would not bicker so
much (and can plan better for trips). The wise woman that my mom is can give
other people space. I am learning to be grown and my mom is learning to be
wise. In the meantime,our mistakes crash into each other like two drunk drivers
ashamed at their relapse. We will do better next time.
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