On a separate note, I made my mom cry tonight. We had this lovely weekend together. Sang, laughed, shared stories, drove a mustang, tasted some wine, had some good grub, toured some familiar and new spots. Overall really great. The minute we get home, she pours herself this huge glass of wine. She’s tipsy after it and two cocktails later she’s teetering between tipsy and drunk
That version of my mom is by far my least favorite person. She’s over the top obnoxious and there’s no reasoning with her. Did that stop me from trying to reason with her? No. Stupid.
She neglected to remind me that a baking project needed to be completed tonight so she could take it to work tomorrow. Like a toddler telling their parent about a project the night before, she told me this at 9:40 pm. She wanted cake pops, which require freezing in between each step to help keep everything together. To get everything done right and to improve upon the last time I made them, I knew this process was going to be long. And I knew she wanted to help because she could tell I wasn’t jazzed about now staying up late to finish it.
If she wasn’t drunk, I think her helping would’ve been fine. If her being drunk wasn’t such a big trigger for me, if I knew how to let her be and not be angry, I think we would’ve been fine. Instead, I called her in to help on a step that was simple and would have been insulting to her intelligence if she was sober. That’s my fault. There was no need for her help. After our fight she left and I did it fine all by myself. There was really no need to ask for help. But I invited a trigger in my space and then I didn’t have the ability to keep myself in check.
I told her “I’m gonna dip the stick in chocolate and hand it to you.” The next part was to the effect of don’t put it down right away because it’ll dry weird. I hand her one and she holds it for a second, then smushed it down on the parchment paper. The chocolate spreads out just like I didn’t want. I stop her and say something like “They can’t smoosh like that. You gotta hold ‘em longer so they don’t spread too much.” Then she starts with the I don’t understands and the you never said that’s how you want its. I’m immediately frustrated because something didn’t go like I planned, but also, if her brain wasn’t so slowed down, I don’t think we would be having that problem. And she’s telling me that I didn’t say the things that I know I said.
She tells me all the time that i can say what I need to say. We had a conversation once where I said I get so frustrated when you’re drunk and you ask me over and over “am I bothering you, am I making you upset, what am I doing that’s bothering you” all under the guise of trying to grow and not do that stuff anymore. I told her then, though, that when she’s drunk, she does not have the capacity to remember the things that are hurting me or stressing me out. So she said to address the situation and we’ll circle back to it the best we can. So tonight. She’s stressing me the fuck out. I can feel the frustration boiling into anger and I say, “can I be real? I think you’re a little too tipsy to take directions right now. And I don’t want to continue down this path and be angry over cake pops. I asked you for help with this part but I think I’ll be able to do it by myself. Please leave my kitchen and I’ll finish up these pops for you”
She agrees that she’s probably tipsy and then she’s like can I say something? And I go yeah sure. She’s like you didnt specify the directions. I don’t know what to do or how to help. I don’t understand what you want because you didn’t tell me. And I KNOW that I did so then I say “mom I did. I said (read above paragraph) and then two days ago I said that my overall plan was to get the chocolate on the stick before poking the pops and I said that again last week after I finished the first cake pop experiment” she goes can I say something else remember how we talked about how you get upset when things don’t go according to plan you’re getting upset but I don’t understand what you want so I can’t help and it messes up your plans.
I can’t fucking believe that we’re still trying to have a logical conversation when SHE AGREED EARLIER THAT SHE PROBABLY IS TOO TIPSY. Stress and frustration heighten, and I feel like I’m going to explode. I have no way to control it and she didn’t leave earlier when I asked so I feel trapped with my emotions. Tears well up and I raise my voice I know I said “I’m so frustrated.” And then the memory is fuzzy. I know I said something about how stupid it was that tears were happening. I know I was totally losing control to the emotion monster. She asks what can I do and I say, because I’m at the height of my stress and frustration “please just leave me alone leave me alone to do this please”
She picks up her phone and leaves. Immediately the stress and frustration are gone. I no longer feel trapped. I feel stupidly embarrassed because my sister was there to see that whole thing And me being so childish. Sister gets up to leave and then it’s just me in the kitchen. A few minutes later I’m in the front room waiting for a cooling break to be done when I hear squeaks. Coming from down the hall.
My mom doesn’t cry often. Usually she cries after alcohol, and they’re big waterworks moments. Squeaking and distorted faces, the whole nine yards. No one taught her how to regulate emotions either. So I hear her crying from the living room. I creep down the hall to make sure it is her crying and not our dog stuck somewhere. And I think I hear my sister talking to her. So now I feel terrible for not being able to control my emotion monster and hurting my moms feelings. But I’m also angry that she “gets to” be the victim in this story.
I really wish I had a therapist to give me clarity on what the fuck happened. And what I did that I can not do anymore. I’m so fucking tired of being emotionally stunted. It makes moments like these so hard. I don’t know what I need to apologize for. I only want to apologize for my part, but I can’t tell for sure what is and is not me. I know I’m going to have to deal with this all tomorrow and it’s going to suck ass. Mom may still be mad at me and treating me to a 3 day cold shoulder like I did a few weeks ago to her. Who knows. I don’t. All I know is I’m fucking tired and my back hurts like hell.
