Sunday night I wrote a post about some... unpleasantness with my mother. Tuesday morning I took it down. Some people have been asking why. "Was there a nuclear fallout? Are you out of the will?" No, and probably, but the thing to understand is that I didn't write that post for entertainment, I wrote it out of frustration. It was a hard thing to do. And I didn't publish it out of spite, I did it because I was desperate, because it seems that this public medium is the only one through which my mother will absorb important information in any lasting, meaningful way. It's a simple matter of communication style; some people listen better without the distraction of talking. I'm the same way. Once my Mom read what I had to say, my point was made and I could take the post down.
Preliminary data collected through the grapevine indicates that I may have only fueled my mother's indignation, and angered a bunch of her friends to boot. Long-range results are anyone's guess. To be fair, when we got together last night neither the blog nor the tantrum were discussed, and my Mom was being extra sweet. I'm just not sure if she was making an effort or gloating under the mistaken impression that I un-published the story out of shame.
Here's what: I've always borne the brunt of my mother's rage and been the only one to stand up to it (one of many reasons I am considered "the difficult child"). Last weekend my entire family was involved and affected, and while the discomfort was nothing new, it was, for me at least, the last straw. I felt that to tell the story of our latest altercation, in all its ugly detail, was the only way to make Mom realize that maybe the problem lies not just with the lazy, ungrateful children who give her no choice but to roar her terrible roar and gnash her terrible teeth. (Again, in the interest of fairness: There's no shortage of love and praise there. She's proud of us and tells us all the time. She tells everyone all the time.)
My family backed me up on the post, but our solidarity lasted only a day. The storm blew over, the mess was swept away, and as usual I'm the only one still tripping over debris.
So for now, it's done. At least I can say I tried. If the rest of my family wants to keep the trailer parked in tornado town, I guess I'm stuck there too. To unhitch and move away would mean leaving them behind and for me, for now, that just isn't an option. Even in the path of occasional destruction, there's no place like home.
(Can you tell I saw "Wicked" last night? So good. There are monkeys. See it if you can.)