annual argument | eyes's Blog

Well, its that time of year again folks. Time for my mother to try to guilt trip her non-Christian daughter into going to church.

Here is how the scenario plays out.

a) Daughter refuses to go through the ordeal of going to church, mom acts hurt and pouts for weeks

b) daughter feels guilty, goes to church, manages to piss her mom off for not immediately realizing the mistake she has made and converting, and mom is pissed off for weeks

We do this every freaking year. I quit even humoring her, because no matter what I do, it doesn't make her happy. She is either going to be disppointed, or angry and disappointed.

The sheer magnitude of what she is asking doesn't seem to sink in. First, she wants me to get up early on the one day I get to sleep in. Second, she wants me to "dress nice" which means a dress... which is torture in my book. Third, it means being around people I don't know, and probbly don't really want to know. Fourth, it means having to listen to what I consider to be non-sense for an hour and a half, an argument about communion, and be expected to sit quietly and pretend to be Christian so I won't embarrass her with my whole "I don't believe in the Christian God" schtick.

Then she will probably want us to stick around so I can meet the pastor, get lectured by him. By the time we leave, I'm frustrated, pissed off, and I don't even want to talk to my mother for putting me through it, which is fine, because she doesn't really want to talk to me either.

Why can't she just fucking drop it?

I love her, and I would do almost anything for her. But this... this really hurts me more than she gets. Its not about inconveniencing me. It is about trying to force a square peg into a round hole. It hurts that she doesn't accept me for who I am, that on some level she thinks I'm a bad person for not following her beliefs. It hurts that I can't change to be who she wants me to be.

So this year, like last year, I am going to spend the next few weeks crying because I know I disappointed my mom again.

Its like salt in a wound. I know I'm not what they wanted. I know I'm not good enough. I can't be. I can't be something I'm not, someone I'm not.