*I found this in my notes on my iPhone. It’s an email I’d sent to my mom about a year or so ago. Things were tense with my father’s cancer at the time. Two things had occurred which had created conflict: 1. When talking to a friend about generic stuff outside my parents’ house she ‘shushed’ me, worried about the neighbors hearing; 2. When walking their dogs with me in my old Santa Barbara neighborhood she loudly commented negatively on several locals as they passed.
**[Update on my dad. He’s not doing well right now. Vomiting from the oral chemo. Total exhaustion and all-day on/off naps due to chemo. Gurgling and coughing from growing lung tumor. Fifteen radiation treatments in fifteen days coming up, starting early Feb. More side effects from that anticipated. Despite all this I moved in with my girlfriend to her house in Lompoc, 50 minutes north of SB.]
***Please share and *recommend* my Substack. Cheers! ❤️❤️🔥🔥🔥
^^^^^^
Email to my Mother
Can we step away from the brink here?
You’re right—I sound very angry. It seems we go through these eruptions 1-2 times a year. As you said: This past year has been hard on everyone. There are some things between you and me which realistically will probably never be resolved. That’s life. It’s disappointing but it’s reality. I think you mistook my silence as being ok with everything. In truth I was picking my battles, mainly because of dad, but also out of fatigue.
Like every relationship, ours is complex. There is plenty of positive. I tell my friends positive things about you all the time and they actually admire the fact that we at least on some level communicate. Not everyone can/does.
I know this year has been very hard for you especially. You’ve done an incredible amount. We did it together. I know you and Christine are different. And yet I see the similarities too. Even in myself also. You, me and Christine have some sad similarities. But we are each our own person as well.
My main problem here is that I do think sometimes you can be a little tone-deaf and lack some awareness when it comes to me. I think the other day was a prime example. The truth is you were fairly loudly commenting about multiple people as we passed. I let it go though I wasn’t pleased. Then you told me to keep my voice down. It’s a specific type of rejection that is very frustrating and painful for me. And it’s something you’ve done all my life.
The way you reacted to your mom; Christine reacted to you; I reacted to you; G reacted to Christine: There is the pattern. And the pattern is: We all went to be SEEN and heard and acknowledged. We haven’t been in many ways, and so we reacted. I feel that when you worry about what others think—a fear you inherited from your mother and has bothered you forever—you’re essentially putting yourself above me/my sanity. And that is very painful and hard to take.
What is underneath this need you seem to have for others to validate you? Why is that so profoundly important to you? Can you make our connection more important than that need?
Lastly, something I’ve said many times. I know I myself am far, far from perfect. I have a lot of problems, let’s face it. But I work on it. And I try to listen when people give me feedback. But worrying about what the neighbors think isn’t feedback; that’s insecurity which again circles back to yourself.
I don’t want to fight. I apologize for the way I expressed my anger. My goal is not to be cruel or to hurt you. I just want to feel loved and fully accepted.
Michael