“I have my own fucking issues.”
This is what my mother told me on the phone late Friday night.
The flu had caught me. God had pulled my life from beneath my feet like a ragged carpet.
Life wasn’t stopping because I wouldn’t stop coughing. Responsibility wasn’t going away because I had a 100 degree fever. Gmail didn’t have an automatic “Sammy is sick, please e-mail her back later and she’ll get back to you” reply because I was sleeping 18 hours a day.
And my mom had her own issues. She didn’t want to hear mine.
When I was in high school, I used to have “break down sick days.”
I drove myself nuts at 16, and my mother related. She let me stay home from school. Take a breath. Catch up on work. Work out the kinks in the high school newspaper I was EIC of, or work on an article for the local newspaper I interned with.
I was a busy girl. And when I would sob uncontrollably because of it, my mom was always there for me. She didn’t have her own issues when I was 16.
But the truth is, she did. We all have our own issues. We all wish something were different with our lives. That someone was there for us. Someone for us to confide in. To listen to us. To relate to us. To feel pain with us.
Our parents are our best friends. But then the day arrives when they aren’t. When they just don’t understand. When all they do is remind you of dentist appointments and call you to chat about meaningless things.
I still try to connect to my parents. But I see their eyes glaze. I see them yawn of talking about work, and organizations, and founding magazines, and having dreams.
They lost their dreams years ago. They can never relate.
And when they get sick, there’s more on their table than replying to a few e-mails. They have bills to pay, money to make, customers to appease.
They are no longer their own person, and when they can break themselves from it, they are no longer your own parent, too.
They are just like us, fending for themselves, trying to get over the flu and resolve their issues.
And they call to talk about nothing, to talk about something that carries no weight. It is the only relief they have.
You can’t dump your family, and you can’t dump your issues on them. But parents will dump you.
Your break down days are limited— just don’t dump your dreams because your mom isn’t answering the phone.
*posted by Sammy D
