Internal thoughts of this mother…

Sometimes a lot of the time I sit in silence and feel that my daughter doesn’t love me.

Doesn’t really like me much.

You have no idea how tough it is for me to have written that. How I know my husband would say that I am being totally ridiculous and that of course she does love me because I am her mother.

But I don’t think that that matters. That we are not simply loved because we are the parents. I wish it were that easy.

Actions speak louder than words.

I pick her up from either my mum’s place or my in-laws place and she’s not even bothered that I’ve walked through the door. I would be jumping out of my skin to see her and she could really care less. Then someone else will walk through the door and she will be beside herself with excitement.

And a small part of me dies inside.

I joke around about it and pretend I am not phased; I laugh along with them when they say “oh; she doesn’t want to go home – she wants to stay with me!” but inside I’m crushed. I look at her and am literally IMPLORING her with my eyes to show some any affection to me. But I get back nothing except her wriggling to get out of my arms.
And a small of me dies inside.

When we get home she’s fine; we play together and I make her laugh and feed her and bath her and then put her to bed. She’ll cry if I leave her bedroom too early t=so I wait for her to doze off then quietly walk out.
And I am fooled into thinking that she might actually love me.

Then it starts all over again and I feel worthless. Like I’m a terrible mother.

I try to tell myself its ok; that I don’t need her approval and that a mother’s love is selfless and that my job is to be her mother. That my role in this house is as ‘bad cop’ and I can handle that because whist she’ll not like me now, one day she’ll see my worth. It might be for another two decades or so but eventually she’ll see that everything I did; that I do now is for her.
I just have to wait.

And in the meantime (another) small part of me dies.

While i was away…

My mum came into my office to see me on Friday 30/04/2010 (I left Friday afternoon but had taken the Thursday off to pack and make sure that all things like holiday insurance, etc were sorted!). I spoke to her on the Saturday to tell her that I was away – to NO avail! Upon trying to tell her she cut me off telling me that she did not want to hear anything that would make her have a car accident (as she was in the car). so I didn’t tell her…

The first week went by and I called her on the Wednesday as apparently she had come into my office on the Tuesday to give me my early birthday present. I told that although I was thankful that she had gotten me something, that all I had wanted (as I had previously told her) was for her to finally accept my decision and accept Mr A. She responded with her usual reference to satan (aka Mr A) and not accepting him. I got off the phone to her and told Mr A that I had still not told her –  he called me chicken poo and told me that I needed to call her back and just tell her…

I called a few days later – mother’s day evening (from outside Discovery Mall, Bali) and listened to her tell me about her problems, what she needed and what I must do for her when I come over, about her doctor’s appointment in July, about how no one had come to visit her on mother’s day, etc – I cut her off and told her that I could not talk to her for very long as the call would cost a small fortune from Bali and that I WAS calling to wish her a happy mother’s day.

I then had to hear her go on about how she thought I was going to Jakarta – I told that I had said to her that Mr A and I were intending to go to Indonesia, I never stated which part! She then went on (and on) about how Bali is predominantly not Muslim and why would I go to where there are no Muslims? I told her that there were Muslims everywhere; that a lot of Muslims come to Bali – that in fact she used to live there! She commented that thi was before she went for haj and that I should know better – that who knows what food I was eating. I said to her that I think she forgets that I speak nearly fluent Indonesian and that I know exactly what meat we are eating! I told her AGAIN that I had previously already told her to stop coming into my office as it undermines my professionalism and makes me looks bad. I got off the phone feeling terrible, frustrated and annoyed and wanting to take photos of the many Hijabi’s and Arabs I saw and send copies of them all to my mum.

I heard nothing from her on my second week.

I didn’t call her at all…

I returned (to Aussie-land) on Friday afternoon and did not tell her.

I spent all weekend doing my own thing and was blissfully happy at the fact that I did not have one single missed call from her (I normally have her call me often) – that when my phone did ring I wasn’t all anxious or distraught about the imminent guilt trip my mm would dish out to me.

I returned to work on Monday and discover that my mum (after talking to me and finding out that I was in Bali) had come into my office 2 more times; one of which was on Thursday to find out when I was coming back – the guy on reception did not know and told her that he was not sure when I was returning.

The irony is that on Sunday Mr A and I sat on the sofa watching a DVD with him telling me that maybe I should visit my mum – tell her that I’ve come back and that I’m ok. The shocking thing is that even after being away from her and not going to see her since January (aside from the times she has seen in my office) I don’t want to see her. I am not angry with her, not at all. I am just tired of it all… SO beyond tired of the repetitive crap that she keeps giving me; the same comments, the same tears and the same emotional intensity that makes me want to move across the country/change jobs/change my number, etc.

But even in saying/writing the above paragraph there is another part of me that wonders why I haven’t heard from her in about a week. A part of me that says a prayer for her hoping that she is ok and hoping that Allah opens her heart to accepting me as I am and the decisions that I have made. And then there is this part of me that wants to call her – not to have a conversation with her as I know that that is unlikely but rather just to hear her voice (sans lamentations) just to know that she’s ok.

But THEN I am overcome with curiosity and against my better judgement I read the birthday card she gave me. Why do I bother? Sentences not particularly worth mentioning include:

“So sad that someone forgot my birthday last time or not ring me – maybe not allowed to send me anything – I know Satan is very strong in your place”

Numerous references to about me and “latnatallah” (it’s a muslim thing that I cannot really explain)

“what you are doing is a big sin and Allah will teach you a lesson”

Comments about how she will be patient and wait for me to come home as God loves those that are patient

That she is my real mother and cannot believe that I am doing this and why won’t I just come home?

Mum had also included some story about how some friend of mine (when I was 14; she was 17 and had a car) took me out and we went to Fremantle and to the beach and that when we came back home late she was really angry/upset and told me that I was not allowed to talk to her anymore and how now look at her life? How she is still single (as far as mum knows) and that she cannot be happy as she lives away from parents etc.

Really – why do I bother? What else can I do to make this stop? I am really beginning to get tired of this; I am beyond frustrated of all of this… I don’t know what else to do – worst yet is that I am baffled by how she seems to still have this way of getting to me? of making me question what I am doing… and with each word that I read and morosely re-read I feel numb, more empty and more resolute at my not wanting to see her. I just want to keep walking; I want to move – I want her to move.

I tried… whilst I was away I told her that we were thinking of coming back to Indonesia in January; that she could go to Jakarta if she liked… she said that she wanted to go to Jakarta in January as long as I went with her… I told her that if she went then that we would visit her – she said she didn’t care about anyone else and that she just wanted to go with me.

feeling troubled….

In the last 2-ish weeks or maybe that’s 3 actually I have to admit that I have been infected by the bug that is Zumba. I am loving it – maybe not LOVING it when I am in the middle of it (when I am huffing and puffing and sore and hot the last word that comes to mind is love. In fact, truth be told I am anxiously awaiting for the hour to be over!) but when its all over and I am on the way home and i’ve gotten my breath back I feel engerised and happy and satisfied with myself that I am getting into shape.

My lust for Zuma is so high right now that I am going between 2 to 3 times per week… madness isn’t it? But last night I must admit something – I ditched zumba.

Why? Because I was feeling down. Because my mum gets back this Sunday. Because I am at a point where I have no idea where to go from here (in relation to her). That I am beyond the point of trying – that I just want it (or me) to just be able to go away. That because as fast as I know she will walk through the arrival’s lounge I want to get her straight back into the departures lounge.

And I am thinking about it constantly now. And I am hating myself for all of this. Hating my thoughts, disliking that the only relationship I have with my mum is dysfunctional (at best).

Hating that I love her with all my heart but that I don’t like her.

Just wanting to pick her up – not say a word. Take her home and her into the house and then walk out. And go to where I feel at home which is not there.

Quick Note

So a few things have been going at the moment. And in all honesty I have no idea how much detail I want to get into about the current turn of events. I will say that it has been a major contributing factor as to why I haven’t posted anything of real substance of late/been fairly ‘vacant’ at the present. I am really sorry but just at the moment I have no idea what to write… I feel that I am at the precipice of… something. I know this makes completely no sense… bear with me people…

worried…

People – I am worried about my Mr A. I spent yesterday looking after the poor man. He is still sick with a migraine! Wednesday night his parents took him to the emergency room and they did a blood test and it appears to be nothing wrong! He asked the doctors for Panadeine Forte and that that should do it – I got his mum to ask them for a Valium so he could sleep as he’d already missed out on nearly 2 days of sleep (he had slept very sporadically and kept waking up to puke) . So he went home and went to bed and apparently kept waking up to puke all through the evening.

 

The next day (yesterday) I took the day off as he asked me to look after him and he still felt like crap. So I spent the whole day playing nurse. At one point he was curled up in the shower on the floor in a ball with his head resting on the tiled walls. I was so upset – I told him that the shower was not somewhere he needed to be right now – that he was hot and needed to sweat it out. The guy would not come out!!! I scared him out saying that I was NOT afraid to get him out myself….

 

Then he spent the other part of the morning puking his empty guts out – refusing to eat anything! I felt totally helpless… he actually sat on the toilet floor and started crying at one point telling me that now I had seen him vomit and all sickly that i9 would change my mind about marrying him! Bless!

 

I forced him to eat something and had to tell that his options were either to eat something or face having to go to hospital again – he ate half a bowl of soup and called me the Nurse Nazi… albeit a cute one…

 

The rest of the day he managed to keep his food down and I was so happy! Lame I know – but then it got even better when he wanted to be moved onto the sofa and watch Nigella on TV with me… oh I thought that we were definitely on the mend by this time!

 

When I got home and spoke to him before he went to bed I was annoyed to hear that he did not eat any dinner but slightly less worried and he seemed so much better…

 

Then this morning I called him and he sounded worse… terrible…. But I had to go into work

 

At 10.15 I called him and got no answer… I called his mum – no answer – I called his dad – voicemail! I had a meeting to go to.

 

I have no idea what we talked about in the meeting – I called his dad who told me that Mr a had been taken back to hospital by his mum and that he was there now hooked up to an IV and that he was really dehydrated… that they still don’t know what’s wrong with him.

 

10 minutes ago his mum just called me to tell me that the doctors are going to do a CT scan to figure out what’s wrong…

 

I am worried and scared… and sadly know that I can’t tell my mum because sadly I know that she will not care. I hate to think about what she might say…

 

I am leaving work early to find out what’s wrong with him and be next to him…

 

I miss him…

 

Please say a prayer for him people. I love him and am so worried… and feel totally AWFUL that I didn’t MAKE him go to the hospital yesterday afternoon…

 

Please, PLEASE let him be ok?

Some things should never be said!

Lets make things abundantly clear here… some things should not be said. There are undoubtedly some things that we think and that we yearn to say but in all seriousness it is in both your own and the other person’s best interest to seriously keep your mouth shut. Why? Why say things that you know will be hurtful? That even if you think may not be hurtful because some people are dense are seriously not relevant.

 

First things first – the other day Reza asked me about selling some gold and about money. I know and you know that my mum has brought him at this moment in my life in order to (somehow) ‘lure me away’ from Mr A. Whatever – I am totally ignoring that and living my life as though I have no clue. So what totally makes me laugh is the fact that I asked him if he needed to borrow from me that he could… the guy said thanks and that he may take me up on my offer!!!

 

Hahaha – seriously; to me Reza is family. I have no qualms in lending him money, paying for his cigarettes and paying whenever I take him out. He’s not working and I am. He’s on holidays here and I live here i won’t mention that apart from one meal I went on that was had been me, him and his younger brother that he paid for I had essentially been paying for everything else. I’m not saying this because I am a penny counting person; but rather that if I pay for myself (aswell as you) this is me telling you in capital letters that WE ARE ONLY FRIENDS, that I am definitely NOT LOOKING AT YOU IN “THAT” WAY. Because if I was interested in you, it would be your role as the man to at least offer to pay – because old-fashioned as it sounds I already have one liability, thanks but I don’t need another one! So its funny how this man who has no job, no source of income, no knowledge of what he wants to do with himself, finished high school 10 years ago but ha pretty much done f*#k all since then is apparently a better catch than Mr A???? Ohh, because we all be so lucky to have a man who will need to be reliant on my (the woman’s) income – I’m sorry, but in Islam isn’t he meant to provide for me?

 

But now let’s get back to what shouldn’t be said: last night I am in the bathroom with mum chatting away to me about whatever – I wasn’t particularly listening (I know, I’m a terrible daughter). Then mum mentioned something that I thought; what the? And opened the door a little more so I could hear her because I was standing there thinking ‘no way did you just say what I thought you said!’ So even as I am about to write/type this my stomach is doing summersaults that this was actually vocalised to me. I asked mum what she said (this was what she said):

 

“You know, your aunty said to me that Mr M was just using you so you could “help” him with his MBA”

 

What the fuck (I’m sorry – but I had to write it – I was and am still this baffled and upset by her telling me this)???? Internally I am so disheartened by this – you cannot fathom how irate I was on the inside. I was so tempted to get into it – to start something and tell her that I cannot believe that she would say this to me? Does she seriously think that I wouldn’t be hurt by that comment??? Really??? Does she seriously not know me at all???????

 

But I kept my calm, my composure and just went over to the door (about to shut it) and say; “yep, that’s great mum – and that’s why I’m not marrying any of these people you think are ‘fantastic’. Even Reza in there wants to marry me only so he can live here. I spent the whole morning cleaning this house and got no help from anyone – at least Mr A is helpful and loves me for who I am… not for what I can offer him. I have the person I want to marry. I’m sick of all the games those Arab men have played with me”

 

I went back to my room and shut the door, all the while calming myself down – I had no idea if I was angrier with her for saying that about Mr M or wanting to cry at the thought that Mr M has used me. Mum walked in a few minutes later (because she doesn’t knock) with a graduation photo of some guy and his mum and said: “this man will not use you – he has a degree and is a good man.”

Frustrated by this whole situation I just said; “Mum – I don’t care – I have a fiancé and I LOVE him… I intend to MARRY him!”

 

But I will say that a few minutes later I was thinking: whose bloody photo is that?????

 

Whatever – it’s all too much!

My Friday rant…

Nothing to report people. Or perhaps there actually is (this is probably far, far more honest) but that I really, honestly just can’t be bothered to get into it… hmm, perhaps I can be bothered but I don’t think I want to get into the nitty gritty of it all. And yet here I am about to get into it…

I am currently not at home (shocking gasps are to be made to anyone who has been around me and knows that I generally give-in to my mothers thought process as I cannot be bothered trying to rationalise things to her over and over again in differing ways hoping to initiate understanding)! I had told mum (via letter as she would never listen to me otherwise) and included money for board etc. I called her on the Wednesday late afternoon (the intended day of not returning home) to ensure that letter had been read and understood (sorry for ‘cold-ish’ manner in describing this – it’s the only way I can actually get through writing some of this… I need to be detached). Mum did not believe me, told (yelled) at me to come home and that she would be waiting for me. I told her I would call her in a couple days.  

No calls until about 7pm (I am normally home a little before this) then – BAM… barrage of calls. Voicemail messages commence; first angrily, then frustration, then apologetic, then crying. I could bear it no longer… I NEEDED space. I cannot begin to tell you how I was (and continue) to feel; Stifled, frustrated, guilt-ridden, annoyed, angry, upset, frustrated (yes, I know I have in already), hurt, disappointed… there are not enough words…. I just needed some time.

 I intended to call her the next day at about lunchtime (Thursday). I go to work feeling a little numb – not quite there. After morning tea I have someone tell me that there is someone at reception here to visit me. 

MY MUM HAD COME INTO MY WORK!

 Can I say that the irony is that it seems that my parents (yes, parents) seem to have this uncanny knack of making me feel jipped and screwed over (this is the ONLY word(s) I can think of to explain that feeling I felt) at my place of employment! My dad came to work about 3 years ago – whereby prior to that I hadn’t seen him for about… oooh, a good 16 years (long story, but he was NOT a good person.. and that’s an understatement!). Needless to say I had to act all appropriate in relation to be at work when inside I was seething!

 So this time around I was not quite seething… I was shocked that she had done this – we went downstairs: 

She told me I hadn’t called her to tell her I wasn’t coming home – I told that I had.

 She said that I didn’t. I told her to exact time I called and told her that in addition to said call I had left a highly explanatory letter advising of me not coming home for a few days, the reason behind and the need I had to just have some space. 

She said that she nearly called the police to get them to find me but that she didn’t want to embarrass me with said contact made by uniformed police officers – I told her she should have called the cops – that I had not problem with it (because they would have been like; “so she left a note telling you she would not be home for a few days, that she needed a little time to herself and you haven’t heard from her in the last 4 hours since she called to confirm that she wouldn’t be home? And how old is she madam? Oh – definitely over 18 there madam – call back when she’s really missing!”)

I said a few things that I hope sink in and make her think. I am hoping for a positive outcome as she seemed to get it. Mr A thinks I am deluding myself but I think I have to try (she’s my mum…). She wants me to come home ASAP. I explained over and over that I need some time but she will not listen… it is disheartening. I am torn between wanting to scream in the angry frustration of it all versus the disappointing sadness of it all.  

I called her last night to tell her I was okay (plus I had a missed call from her just five minutes before). She knew that I wasn’t coming home and yet still says “I’m here now waiting for you to come home.” Heavy, so heavy is my heart… why? When? Why can’t she just see what she does, what she’s doing? So we talk a little (as I had promised myself that I was going to remain calm) then she starts on again about things, throwing all this emotional guilt ‘stuff’ (“what will the neighbours think?” – I mean seriously, I am near certain that they either don’t care or have better things to worry about!). I really want it to be made clear here: I am so tired and BEYOND exhausted of my years of ‘sucking it up’. I am also INSANLY beyond exhausted and disappointed at the constant disagreements/arguments that I am having to have with her about everything from clothing, to shopping, to the clothes that I buy, to the food I eat, to the decrease in rice I am eating, to the fact that my shelf in the pantry is too full, to the issue that the said products on my shelf are not nutritious enough for her liking (she doesn’t eat it – hence I buy it for myself and do not expect her to pay for something she does not consume), to the fact that I use butter instead of either nothing or cholesterol-free margarine, to the fact that I see my friends on the weekend (apparently too much), to the fact that I’m, not watching television with her, to the issue of me not memorizing the exact duas she knows, to the prayer scarf I use, to the faact that i i will pary 10 minutes after her instead of AT THE SAME time as her, to the fact that I don’t wear a scarf, to the choice of man I choose, to the shoes I buy, to the fact that I forgot to buy toilet paper, to the cousin that hasn’t arrived yet… please… I cannot go on anymore. I am tired, tired, tired, tired, tired….

I DON’T WANT TO BE HERE! I just want her to understand what I am saying (what I have been saying, over and over, and over again in so, so may different ways.) 

But silently on the outside it’s all good. And in a way due to said engagement it is. And in a way she says that she understands what I am trying to show her (what I’ve been telling her for so long) and that if I came home she would show me that he understands – but then she starts up again and I don’t believe her… because I did psychology I believe that a person’s behaviour can be changed or “modified”, that a dying relationship can be mended as so long as both parties are open to it. but then I think that because I did psychology I know that previous behaviour is the precent of future behaviour.

And so here I am. Friday afternoon. Feeling like crap – like I am ready to explode – like I am really wanting to disappear.  

Meanwhile I do hope that you all have a better weekend that I do!