Fairly early this morning, I wasn’t a good son, in a way that, as I increasingly realize, I am often a bad son. I have an unfortunate tendency to snap at or take things out on my mother when I am frustrated or afraid, and I did so today during a conversation about whether I should go to the doctor. Her point was that based on one of my more alarming newly-developed symptoms, she was afraid that the ulcer we know I have might have started to bleed; my point was that even if it were, I couldn’t stay out of the bathroom long enough to tolerate a car trip to the doctor’s office, so it really didn’t matter unless it got so bad that we’d be justified in calling an ambulance … and anyway, a bleeding ulcer wasn’t consistent with my other symptoms (particularly the one keeping me in the bathroom). I was very unpleasant to and impatient with her.
I suppose I could excuse this by saying that prior to getting on the phone with her, I had been in so much pain that I actually passed out for a minute in my laundry room and hit the side of my face on the cupboard (no bruise so far, but if one pops up, I’m going to lie and say I was hit by some leather-and-chains motorcycle dude from whom I was rescuing a beleaguered maiden) but the truth is that I snap at her too much even when I don’t have an excuse. I am trying to become more aware of this, and I think I’m doing better with it, but after she dropped off some medicine for me through my huge mail slot (I am terrified that I might be contagious, so I didn’t want her to come in) I couldn’t stop thinking about how horrible I’d been … not just today, but every hurtful and thoughtless thing I’ve ever done or said to her.
I called her to apologize, and of course she forgave me, but I don’t feel any better about it. I feel as though I don’t know how to love her — I don’t know how to love anyone properly. I fear I won’t figure it out until she’s gone, and it’s too late. I’m afraid it will kill me then, to know how I failed her, how I could have been different, how my whole life could have been different if only somehow I understood how to feel things properly, and to act on those feelings. I can’t remember ever being quite this overwrought; I can’t stop crying, I can’t stop feeling as though my time is running horribly short to figure out my life and I’m not making any progress; I can’t get out of the damned bathroom long enough to go to the doctor, and on top of everything else I’m almost out of cat food.
But other than that, I’m great.
October 23, 2007 at 10:32 am |
Well first .. I’m so sorry that you are so miserably ill. That alone can make one very snappish indeed. Way back in my college days, I was advised by our health service at the university to eat “white food” when having stomach type illnesses (”white food” being defined as things like rice, fish (no flavoring or seasoning), milk, plain cooked chicken, plain cooked potatoes). I don’t know if they still give that advice, but I have found that it’s pretty accurate for me at least.
As for being snappish with Mom .. well that’s something we all eventually figure out. We carry over our childhood habit of “venting” to our moms for a long time after we are technically adults. It’s a huge step forward that you are cognizant of it now and working on moving away from that habit. It might not FEEL like progress just now, but truly, it is.
You haven’t failed anyone; absolutely no one is required or expected to be perfect. Trust me on this… your mom knows you love her.
You ARE making progress; there IS a light at the end of this tunnel. The night is always darkest just before dawn … as hard as this is, you are on the path toward the light. Hold onto that; you are surrounded by people who care for you and who love you.
Hugs in abundance … {{{{{{{}}}}}}}
Smokey
October 23, 2007 at 11:04 am |
I think it’s called the BRAT diet, what you should be eating that is. Bananas, Rice, Applesauce, Toast. But really if you aren’t getting better by tomorrow, I’d go to the doctor.
I know what it feels like to be snapped at by someone I love dearly. When that happens I know they don’t mean it. They just can’t help it at the moment. However, I can’t help but feeling that if they would just pause for a second and say something like, “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean for it to come out that way, Mom” I wouldn’t feel like running to my room to cry. I know that if they’d stop and make a joke of it or give me a hug, it would all be okay. Might you be able to do that. Immediacy is important. The sooner you can make it better, the better!
BTW, if you end up with that bruise on your face, I will vouch for the fact that you were saving a damsel in distress from an oafish giant. Maybe I can even PhotoShop some pictures!
October 23, 2007 at 11:53 am |
I too snap at my mum sometimes for reasons, and sometimes for no reason at all. And I feel really really awful about it. So, try doing what I do. When ever you are speaking to her or communicating to her, be aware that you should be nice to her. Make it a concious effort to speak and behave in a nice way. Personally I feel, that we have no right to snap at mums. No matter how adult we are, and I think you are wonderful. And I also think its because of your mum. Hugs to David….
October 23, 2007 at 1:14 pm |
There, you got that all out. Are you feeling better now?
Yes, you aren’t being a very good son but then none of us are and we all figure it out way too late.And when one is sick, these things seem to hit us harder. It will pass.
October 23, 2007 at 6:06 pm |
Oh, I loved AverageJane’s comment. Very reassuring, very maternal. Like stroking your forehead and feeding you chicken soup.
These things always bother us more when we’re feeling crappy, David. I’m a mom, and I don’t think you’re a bad son. You have a close relationship with your mom, obviously, even if you revert to child status sometimes when communicating with her. Many adult men don’t seem to want to be close to their mothers at all. It will sort itself out… you’ll be a little more conscious of how you speak to her from now on, and she already appreciates you anyhow.
Now. Go to the doctor.
October 23, 2007 at 6:37 pm |
Pmousse, we have all known David for sometime now and feel extremely maternal towards him. I don’t think the poor darling particularly cares for it but we force the chicken soup willy nilly down his throat anyway.
October 23, 2007 at 6:59 pm |
I really like the last line.
You are great.
October 23, 2007 at 8:43 pm |
I always feel horribly guilty when I snap at my daughter. It’s a huge effort for me almost always when I’m with her to not snap. I grew up with a mom who often snapped, and it’s tough to not repeat what I learned. Oddly enough, I never get mad at my mom anymore, nor she at me.
Your symptoms sound alarming. The passing out, especially. I’d get to a doctor today for sure.
October 23, 2007 at 10:57 pm |
I’m sorry you’re feeling so awful. I hope you can make it to the doc soon.
As a mom, this was a little (just a little) reassuring as I have a son who tends to snap at me when I’m trying to help. It’s sort of nice to know that he might feel bad about it from time to time. On the other hand, though, I wouldn’t want him feeling this bad about it, or living in guilt, because even when he snaps at me, I want only the best for him.
Average Jane’s first comment was spot on. None of us are perfect sons or daughters. Or (in my case) perfect parents.
October 24, 2007 at 1:11 am |
David, I have 3 sons and we are very close. They feel safer snapping or venting at me, because they know I will love them anyway. It’s not that it doesn’t hurt when they do it, I simply understand why. Of course, they are forgiven before they even ask, but it is nice when they apologize.
Stop tormenting yourself. Your mom has already let it go. You should too.
BTW passing out from the pain sounds like a pretty damn good reason to call an ambulance to me.
October 24, 2007 at 4:05 am |
That’s not great that you feel not great about this.
October 24, 2007 at 4:29 am |
you are emotionally overwrought, and yet I notice yer still at the helm, so you probably want to be in control and not take advice.
but its not good for you what yer goin through currently. Instead of letting emotions run show, call mom, have her take you to doctor, allow yourself to be reassured. You don’t hafta go on a chaos tilt. O.K. to ask for help (and then take it)
good luck
October 24, 2007 at 5:43 am |
As your biblio-curandera, I recommend Nick Hornby’s High Fidelity, which I just finished reading today. Politely ask your mother to acquire it, read it aloud on a cd, and drop the resulting cd through your alarmingly large mail slot. This will do a number of things–for one thing, it will tell your mother that you’re worried you’re being dreadful to her, for another, you won’t have to hold the book, you can just play it through what I’m sure are really egregiously wonderful stereo speakers. And it’s very possible in addition to all that it might clear up some stuff for you.
October 27, 2007 at 12:21 am |
I’m going to respond here before I read the other comments. I don’t want to be influenced one way or another in the message that welled up in my heart for you as I read this.
The arms of my heart, soul, mind and spirit are holding you close. I know that in all of the pain (physically and emotionally) you are feeling…you can’t feel me…but I’m holding you close nonetheless.
I’m going to attempt to explain the mother’s heart. We love our children, beyond measure. Truly…nothing can compare…and nothing can explain. The love we feel for our children is not of this earth…and has this kind of blessed blindness. It sees beyond and beneath temperament, and snappishnesses (wow, what a word!), and moods and anger. Your mother knows you. Your mother loves you more that life itself. And guess what? She knows that she is your world even when you snap at her. Yes, you’ve said things that you are not proud of…but you’ve also bought her lovely gifts, and spent time with her, and talked to her about life matters…and cherished her…just as she cherishes you.
Everyone snaps. We all do things that we are not proud of. You’ve done all that any human can do…you’ve apologized from the heart, and she has accepted. It’s okay.
(Please feel free to delete this if you want…I know that it can be embarrassing when my heart takes over my fingers, and makes me type this kind of stuff.)
October 27, 2007 at 10:15 pm |
You’re not a bad son, you’re simply human. I’m not sure if it’s possible for a child to mirror the enormous, long suffering love of a parent for their child. I’m not sure there is a proper way to feel things. You have the gift of being a sensitive person, which gives you great insight. I wonder if things fall in a different light, now that you feel slightly less like you’re dieing. I hope so. I have often found that sound sleep, when I can get it, heals most of my distress.
October 28, 2007 at 4:54 am |
Holley — I would never delete your heartfelt comments (unless you wanted me to). I know my mother knows I love her, and I know she forgives me. But I am having trouble forgiving myself for not behaving better toward her in general.
Lydia — Thanks for the book recommendation; I’ll look into that.
Waxing — Oddly, now that I feel less like I’m dying, I feel even worse about my mother. For some reason it’s hit home just horribly that my time with her is limited. Ten years, twenty? Not a very long time. Difficult though it may be to believe this, I’m crying while typing these words. I don’t know why this is suddenly so much on my mind. I guess I just hate it that her life with my dad is so miserable, and the end of her life is in sight … and the only reliable pleasure she has is my company, and I’m pretty frequently a temperamental asshole. The whole situation is just killing me.