be happy

My mom “started” a fight with me this afternoon.

It started, as most fights do, with a seemingly innocent comment. My father made the comment to me, saying I should apply to the local community college to be an adjunct professor in philosophy.

I don’t remember my exact response, but yes, I admit it was under-enthusiastic. I have known about the job opening for a couple weeks, but haven’t applied because I’m scared. Yes, I’m scared. To apply for the job requires that I have three professional references—people who have seen me teach philosophy. This requires that I contact my former grad school.

And if you’re familiar with the saga that is my life, you know I was very severely burnt by nearly every single professor there that I trusted. When I reported my SH, I unknowingly drew a line in the sand. I seem to be the only one on my side of the line.

So I said something to my parents the issue of getting letter of recommendation. I did NOT state that I would not apply.

But that’s what they heard. My mom started in on me, about how I was so negative, that I never tried anything new, etc. She went on to say that I never try anything new, that I just set myself up for failure again and again. I asked her how, because in my mind, I do indeed try new things all the time. The only example she could produce for me was my eating disorder, and how I “let it” take over me in 1995. Um…that was thirteen years ago. I am NOT the person I was when I was 15. It would be like me getting angry at B for having manic thoughts; I have never gotten upset with him for his thoughts, I have gotten upset with him for choosing not to get better. My mom made it sound like I, 13 years ago, had chosen not to get better. Were that the case, I’d be dead. If not dead, I’d be quite sickly. I’d never have travelled by myself to Greece four times. I’d never have lived by myself, etc—I’m sure you get the point.

But that’s not all. Whitney won’t fail you in just one way. My mom went on to critique my parenting style. Apparently, I am “damaging” C because sometimes, I *gasp* go into lie down at the same time I put her to bed. This is, according to my mom, Bad. Poor C. Not only is she orphaned by one parent, the remaining parent sometimes just wants peace and quiet, and going into a dark quiet room with her almost two year old is the ONLY peace and quiet remaining parent can get, because remaining parent, being such a total failure at life, has to live with her loquacious sister and their parents in a mid-sized home. Remaining parent shares a room with her child.

So yes, there you go. The messages I received, though my mom denied this was her intended message, are:

• I am a failure at life.
• I am a disappointment as a daughter.
• I am a burden to my parents.
• I am a horrible mother.
• I have not done anything in the past 13 years.
• I’m crap and should just give up, sign over my parental rights, and vanish in the forest.


Another thing my mom was angered about was B. She is annoyed that I am missing him. I know, how strange of me to miss the person I spent the better part of 6 years with. How weird of me to be sad this first Thanksgiving without him! How strange of me to feel morose!

What the hell?

My mom actually said, “It’s not like you were married to him for 56 years.” True. She also said, “All you had was dreams.”

Dreams can die, Mom. And what do most young people have, if not dreams? Scratch young—what do most people have if not dreams? I don’t want to be a dreamless person. And yes, the death of dreams can and does hurt, Mom. Just because they are dreams and not reality doesn’t make it less painful, particularly when the “dream” being fulfilled was only a month or two away when you watched it smolder in flames.

*sighs* So now I feel like I can’t be myself, even at home. That I need to be happy or I’ll ruin the holidays for C. (In my defense, I HAVE acted happy around C. But I can’t shield her from the reality that sometimes, mommy isn’t happy.) I also believe stronger than ever that I’m a crappy mother. I really want to just go lie down in the woods and let the leaves bury me.