Someone Needs A Drink, And It Isn’t Me

I was 24 when I moved out of my mother’s house. It was my first time living on my own, and I’ve been doing it ever since. At first I was afraid that I’d be lonely and I’d miss being around other people. That’s never been the case. Instead I found an incredible sense of independence and pride that I was living on my own, in my own space, with my own things. Knowing that I can do what I want when I want is refreshing. The thought of living with another person makes my stomach hurt.

For some years, my mother has been trying to convince me that we should buy a lot of land together, and build 2 houses on the lot. This gives me a headache. There is no way on this earth that anyone could convince me to move that close to my mom. I love her dearly, however, sometimes she forgets that I’m 34, and thinks I’m actually 14. When I mention that I’m going out with friends, she wants to know who I’m going with, where we’re going, and when I’ll be home. Sometimes she asks me to call her when I get home-which I never do.

There are times that she takes it even further. For some reason, she can’t seem to get it into her head that when I’m at work, I may actually be working. Yes, it’s true. There are days when I find myself in back to back meetings and am unable to take her phone calls. This sends her into a panic. Inevitably I end up with 3 panicked phone calls from her, 2 from my sister saying that my mom is freaking out because she hasn’t heard from me in 3 hours, and then an email message from my brother-in-law. That’s right, my poor brother-in-law gets drawn into the mess too. My mom will call my sister, who then calls my brother-in-law, who then has to walk over to my building to see if my stuff is at my desk. It’s ridiculous. I’ve mentioned this to her a number of times, but she just can’t get it into her head.

Yesterday, she scared herself so badly that she nearly had a heart attack and died. Since I got sick a month ago, I haven’t been leaving the house too often. Sure I’ll venture out from time to time, but it’s not as if my social calendar has picked up. It just so happens that yesterday was a busy day for me: I had therapy at 10, then lunch with 3D, followed by a pedicure, and some errands I had to run. When I was through with therapy at 11:00, I had 3 voicemails on my phone. The first one was from my mother, and from the tone of her voice, I was sure that someone had died. The next two were from my sister warning me that my mother had gone into panic mode because she’d been trying to get in touch with me for 45 minutes and had no idea where I was.

As I was listening to the last voicemail, my phone started ringing-mom again.

  • Me: I just got out of therapy. I’m fine.
  • Mom: [Enraged] You are so irresponsible!
  • Me: I’m fine. I was in therapy and I didn’t know you were trying to call me.
  • Mom: [Yelling at me like I had never heard before. Imagine yelling at your 12 year old for stealing your car keys, going joyriding in your BMW, and then holding up a liquor store. That’s how she was yelling at me.] I am furious with you!! You cannot do this! You could have died! That catheter could have come out of your arm and you could have bled to death! And I don’t even know this boy you are dating!! I need to know where you are at all times!
  • Me: [Stunned silent and wondering what 3D has anything to do with this]
  • Mom: They [Neighbor Care that delivers my antibiotics] have been trying to call you to schedule a delivery and you were nowhere to be found!!
  • Me: I’m fine. I didn’t get the messages. FYI: I’m not 12 and I can’t imagine what on earth you think I was doing that I would have torn the entire 41 cm of the picc line out of my arm and bled to death.

This was not the appropriate response as she decided to lay me out for talking back to her. Umm…am I 14? Am I really? Because that’s not what my driver’s license says.

The doctor has cleared me to go on vacation, and the iv is coming with me. I can only imagine the joyous time that I’ll be having with her checking on me every 15 minutes. Maybe she’ll send me to bed early, or make me sit at the table until I eat all my vegetables.

Oh! Or maybe she’ll ground me and take away my TV a phone privileges.

Someone Needs A Drink, And It Isn’t Me

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