I don’t want to tell my parents how I am feeling because I don’t want to make my mom anymore anxious than she already does. I worry about her. She doesn’t go out in fear of the house being burgled or a fatal event happening in london or our town. She goes to pilates twice a week and lipreading once a week. Struggles with her hearing, with comprehension and articulating her thoughts. When I talk to her, our conversation concerns our immediate situation. Food. Weather. What she’s cooking for dinner. What she used to do when she was a kid. Empty topics. I don’t know what to talk about with her because whenever I begin a story, it soon turns to what she has experienced. One sided. Our conversation usually contains her anecdotes that I have heard before, or phrases beginning with”that’s why.” It’s an explanatory discussion. Tries to justify her actions. It feels like I don’t “get” her, or even worse, she doesn’t “get” me
As a daughter I fear I am learning from her. I feel less able to talk about extrapolated topics. Have fun chats. Humorous. Light hearted. She doesn’t understand banter so this simply doesn’t happen in my life unless I’m with friends.
I cut them all off.
It’s true. I don’t tell her what happens in my life.