Why Your Mom is Your #1 Fan
Life rule number one: 99% of people in the world are going to exponentially disappoint you.
How could they not, they’re human, and so are you dear friend. I’ve tried really hard to get rid of any expectations on the outcome of how people will treat me, but for some reason I still hold on to the bitterness once it all goes to shit. I ask myself, how could they be so cruel, so cunning, and so numb to how I feel. I swore this time would be different, I had so much history and knowledge to draw from, how could I make the same mistake of trusting someone again. Guess who didn’t listen to their gut and came out in the single digits once it was all done? Cue me pumping my hand in the air in a frenzy of, “Me, me, pick me, I’m right!” So here I am, in the midst of another disappointment of human interaction bordering on an episode of Sex in the City, minus the Manolo’s, plus a cat.
It’s an easy fix though. I’ve found it’s best to acknowledge that some peoples’ best, but mostly their half-assed efforts, will leave you wanting. You can wait all day for someone to step up to the plate, but you’re just going to be dehydrated with an aching back from standing so long. It’s far easier to cut the newest charging cord (or just let your cat chew on it until you’re disengaged) as soon as possible. It’s a clichéd thing, but once someone shows you how they feel, absolutely believe it. There is no such thing as mixed signals.
So there’s the saving grace in all this, bada boom, bada bing…finito, no crying, no worrying, no wondering what I did wrong, no long drawn out conversations over text. Clean and broken off from any obligations to “figure it out.”
You might say, well, then why are you writing about it Laura…sure sounds like you’re still raw about it.
Fun fact about me (I’ve recently learned): when someone rejects me, ignores me, hurts me…that.is.on.them, and no longer any of my concern. Lately I’ve seen a lot of people hurting from things that happened in their relationships. They’re going through things I can’t help them with. But I can tell them how I am helping myself.
Where does that leave me then? I mean, I said that whole thing where I vowed I was done dating and at the first sign of a man with a beard, I dropped all resolutions, fell in with a man, only to be back where I started after Boy.
Rule number 2: Even though people will disappoint you, there will be a few humans who will surprise you with their greatness. These people will get you through the disappointment. In the great words of Miss Lana, “Don’t worry baby,” go find your people.
I have a few people, but my PERSON, is mom.
Sure, I could be embarrassed and worry that I’m not cool enough because my mom is my best friend, but like…she’s mom, so screw anyone who thinks it’s weird.
I recently watched a Ted Talk, about how mice who grew up with moms who showed a lot of affection were able to handle and adapt to stress. On the other hand, mice who had moms who were kind of just like, “Meh, your sister just ate your tail off but you’re fine,” were more likely to suffer throughout life from stress factors. These maltreated mice actually had changes in the makeup of their brains and pretty much had shittier lives when stress came around, and even their mice puppies (that’s what we’re calling them) were less able to adapt to stress. The mice who had loving moms generally were able to handle lab life better. Anyways, I told that story to my mom today and then looked at her and said, “You must have loved the everloving shit out of me when I was a baby.” She smiled, and pulled the car into the UPS store so we could send a box to her grandkids that my little brother helped make.
Now, I told my mom this story about mice because I was grateful. I was grateful to still be here, mostly because she loves me. Despite it all, I’m still chugging along. Yeah I get on the struggle bus stop after stop, but I’m not a delinquent, I vote, AND I overpay on my student loans every month, I’d say that’s thriving and is evidential proof that I can handle stress pretty successfully because she soaked me in cuddles and love when I was a baby.
If there were any question to how much happiness she brings me, mom cemented this fact later the same night.
It was late but I wasn’t tired so I creeped out of my room, downstairs to the living room so I could make my way out our back door. I planned to leave and go to the grocery store to cure my restlessness. Back story: Mom has back issues, so she sleeps on the recliner couch downstairs in the living room. It was pitch black and I was trying to be quiet because I didn’t want to wake her up. As soon as I got to the living room, I heard her whisper, “What are you doing?”
I fumbled through the dark and said, “Getting ready to go to the store, I can’t sleep. I hope I didn’t wake you,” I said.
She replied (mind you- it’s darker than a black hole during the conversation), “I wasn’t sleeping…I’m eating ice cream.”
I laughed because the past few weeks, mom has been watching what she’s been eating to try to get a bit healthier. She totally could have eaten the ice cream earlier in front of me, but she felt too guilty.
“It’s a fruit bar,” she said.
“Ok, well, do you need anything else from the store,” I asked.
“Yeah…triangles,” she said.
I furrowed my brows, “Triangles, what do you mean triangles?”
She whispered, “The crackers.”
“Oh, Sociable crackers, you mean,” I said. Then I thought for a minute and said, “Hey, those crackers don’t even come in triangles, they’re like ovals, squares and clover shaped, there’s no triangles mom.”
“You know what I meant…also, some cottage cheese…the kind with the blue and black label.”
“Small or large curds,” I asked.
I’m just going to say this now, I’m superbly impressed with my interpreting skills when in comes to what my mom means. Who just says, “TRIANGLES,” and expects the other person to know what they mean.
These are the small talks that let me know I have a purpose. No matter how many boys fly through the night, I know mom is still waiting for a kiss goodnight. She watches The Walking Dead, Game of Thrones, and How to Get Away With Murder…and she even judges forks on their stabbing ability. What more could a girl ask for.
Lastly, when I send a story out into the world, I can count on one person to comment on the ideals and values of said package I’ve delivered. I constantly approve comments by mom and honestly I wouldn’t have it any other way. She is my trunk, my stump, my signage to home, and I’m not sure if there’s a better place to be.