Live From My Mother's Kitchen

The internet seems to have a lot of vitriol for avoidants. And unfortunately, I am one of them.

I have bad behaviours. I know.

It’s the main reason I’m currently sitting in the kitchen typing this. I got home an hour ago, snuck in and stayed here.

Why?

I don’t want to face my mother.

Apparently, she found out I wasn’t home when she got home. I’m currently hoping she goes to her room so that by tomorrow, this episode will either be forgotten or receive some light commentary.

I’m real quiet on the creek right now.

It reminds me of the time I slept in the car because I got home by 1 AM, (I had forgotten to take a key), and didn’t want to wake her up. Granted, I wasn’t as concerned about waking her up as I was about the fact that she was pissed I was leaving the house, and I knew the conversation was waiting for me to get home first.

So yeah.

It’s a pattern.

I don’t quite enjoy hard conversations with my mother.

In my defense, I was a boarder from the ages of nine to twenty. I spent eleven years being responsible for my own whereabouts. I’m not used to letting people know where I am, who I’m with, what time I’ll be back, and all the other information that apparently constitutes basic communication when you live with other people.

My philosophy has always been: I think then I go.

But our arguments are usually about this. She wants me to think, inform her with names, numbers and addresses, and then go.

I have thought and gone for ELEVEN years, what are we using my friend’s numbers for?

We are clearly working with two very different operating systems.

I think that’s part of the problem.

It’s hard to include people in processes that happen entirely inside your head.

She tells me every time that my walls are up.

They are.

And for good reason too.

Anytime I try to remove one brick, I regret that decision. I try to let her in and somehow it feels like I made a mistake by doing so. So eventually, I put the brick back.

I know that’s not healthy.

I also know that I have a habit of pushing people away.

I’m working on it.

But you know that thing people say about how we tend to treat people how we want to be treated?

I think that’s the main issue here.

My mother is the type of person to tell me where she’s going as she leaves the house, and she expects me to do the same.

I’m the type of person who genuinely does not care where you are.

You went out?

Cool.

Have fun.

If there’s gist when you get back, even better.

But I’m slowly realising that this isn’t how everyone experiences care.

Sometimes people want to know because knowing makes them feel considered.

Sometimes telling someone where you are isn’t about accountability. It’s about inclusion.

And sometimes, apparently, the person sitting quietly in the kitchen at 9 p.m. hoping their mother goes to bed before they have to speak to her is the person who needs to work on their communication.

Unfortunately.

Anyway.

I refuse to face her till tomorrow morning.

I have chosen peace.

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UPDATE

My brother saw me twenty minutes in and I think he told her I was home, because she just confronted me as I was editing the above part lol.

Note that I have another bad behavior where, if you talk angrily to me, my brain immediately resorts to ragebait. So, guess who just ragebaited her mother instead of apologizing?

Look, I’m a stubborn person, okay?

In better news, I can go to my room now, which I will do as soon as I hit publish on this.

EXILE MUSIC: aka was listening to this in the kitchen. Check it out.