And yet she wonders…

~ I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe;
I told it not, my wrath did grow. ~
– William Blake

Today should have been like any other day – I would wake up, have breakfast, and settle down with a nice book – but it wasn’t. Today, I woke up and found my mom flipping through the secret pages of my diary. I wasn’t even all that surprised. This was the third time I’ve caught her red-handed, despite all my efforts to hide the book and encrypt the writing (which turned out to be too much of a hassle so I soon reverted back to the normal alpha-numeric system of documentation). Of course, I responded in a typical teenage fashion: screaming at the top of my lungs “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”. She didn’t blink, didn’t act guilty and I could not find a trace of remorse on her face. When I ripped my diary out of her hands, she simply smiled, and walked away nonchalantly.

And yet she wonders why I despise her so much.

It isn’t because she neglects her motherly duties. In fact, she is pretty spectacular in the cleaning/laundry department. My hatred stems from something way more fundamental. I am almost halfway to 40, yet I am still treated like a 4 year old. Privacy at my home is as alien a concept as…well, aliens. I can’t talk on the phone without my mom listening on the extension; I have not received mail that hasn’t been opened, read and dissected word after word; I can’t go out with friends without subjecting myself to a third degree interrogation; nor can I get a simple haircut without her instigating a row about how it should have been 5 inches shorter.

Her need to control every aspect of my being has resulted in a broken communication medium. I can’t remember the last time I had a proper, heart to heart conversation with mother dearest. We never discussed periods, boys, relationships, or sex – things that normal mothers have with their daughters. In her old-fashioned frame of mind, boyfriends before the age of 21 is out of the question, so why bother educating me on something that won’t happen for another 3 years? Why bother talking to me at all when she can just poke her nose in my diary and read my most intimate thoughts?

Oh, and did I mention her paranoia complex? She thinks everyone is out to kill her – no joke. Needless to say, living with her is impossible. I can’t talk to her because every time she opens her mouth, I feel like putting a gun in mine. It is sadly ironic that I am blogging this because right now, I feel the internet, despite its vulnerabilities, is more private and secure than my own dear diary.


  1. “Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
    Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
    But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
    And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!’
    This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!’
    Merely this and nothing more.”
    — Edgar Allan Poe, The Raven

    Wow, that’s harsh. I guess I’m blessed in that my natural family members (well, those of them that are still alive) are people I have a good and close relationship with, especially my brother and sister (we siblings have an incredibly deep relationship); so, I can’t really say that I know what it’s like to be in your situation.

    I think this does underscore another principle, though: your true family is made up of people selected by their actions towards you, your actions towards them, and the relationship; not who married whom, or who donated genetic material to which child… I hope that you find other people to replace the gaps in your true family when your natural family lets you down like this.


  2. Thank you, mith. (:

    I guess I am lucky in that the hatred for mother dearest solidifies my love for my dad. Him and I have an amazing father-daughter relationship, and that pulls me through a lot of darkened days.

    I agree fully with what you said about true families vs natural families. Since going to uni, I’ve made a handful of genuine friends who I know would never let me down — not even in their most bizaar, drunken moments :-P


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