Yesterday I had to take mom to an appointment. For her, she wasn’t bad, but none the less, I came home agitated. I ate dinner. I listened to Coach Betsy’s live. I talked to my brother. Still the feeling of being annoyed and off balance lasted. I’d been chatting with Coach Julie, so I tried something she suggested.

All I could think of last night was “I’m annoyed.” My other thought was how a sleeve of ritz crackers would fix it. Usually I just tell myself stronger “no, that’s NOT the answer!” but last night I tried a softer approach. “Ok, I understand being with mom has your emotions on edge. I understand that and I understand why. You want a distraction, but crackers are only a momentary distraction and mom will still be around to annoy you again. We just don’t want to let her push us back from taking steps forward.”

It was still a struggle, but it helped. It wasn’t about hunger or even the taste of the crackers. It was about the repetitive motion of shoving crackers in my mouth, two at a time, and repeatedly crunching them, only to start the motion again. In my head I felt the mental calmness and soothing that would give me. Each time I gently said to myself how I knew that would calm me in the moment, but I’m not going that direction anymore.

No joke, this lasted the rest of the night until I went to bed, but I didn’t eat. Shady Karen yelled. She whined. She told the sexy narrative of eating a whole sleeve of buttery ritz. She painted such a glorious mental image of what could be if only I got the crackers. It was such a hard fight because part of her was right. The time spent in the cracker cycle would have been relaxing. It would have calmed my agitation. For the time it took for me to eat them, my world would be just fine.

This morning as I drove to work the reason for my agitation revealed itself. Oh yes, it was indeed mom that caused it, but I could see why. She mentioned that my brother told her he was coming to my house tonight to hang a decorative mirror in my hallway. This of course opened her up to commentating on my house, my walls and even the kind of mirror it is. Wait, scratch that, according to her it’s not even a mirror.

Her exact words were “I thought it was a mirror you could see yourself in.” I pointed out that if you stood in front of it and looked at it, you would indeed see yourself. It morphed into how I don’t have an empty wall in my house. That’s where I cut her off. She didn’t have to say anymore. I know her thoughts. I know her judgement. All of it just flows in my head from 55 years of experience with her.

• she doesn’t like the mirror
• she doesn’t like what I have on any other walls (she’s been overly vocal about this)
• it’s not a proper mirror, used for making sure you look presentable to the outside world (presentable meaning conforming to her “rules”)
• it is not what she would choose, therefore it’s bad

Now none of that affects my choice and putting the mirror up. There is zero part of me thinking “gosh, mom is right! I should return that mirror and get an acceptable (to her) one!” I’m also not offended. I don’t take designer or fashion tips from someone who has dressed in the exact same style my whole life. To be a little snarkier, I’m not taking advice from someone who wears polyester pants from the 80’s because “they don’t make anything this good anymore!” Maybe because they realized how highly flammable they are and can’t legally make them any longer!

I also realized on my commute that she is a very jealous person, so that drives her words too. The fact I’m making my house look nice and my brother is helping me is a double dose of things to be jealous over. It’s always her natural reaction to knock down anything or anyone she perceives as having status above her. In her world, she’s a have not. Her laundry list of infractions on her life is endless. Her house wasn’t as nice as her sisters houses. This meant she couldn’t entertain like her sisters did and of course everyone held that against her (even though she admits she hated hosting because it made her a nervous wreck.) Her clothes weren’t from the pricey department stores. She didn’t fly on vacations. She didn’t drive a Cadillac. She refers to herself as a have not, for these reasons and many more. In her world everyone who had something looked down on her for what she didn’t have. She continues to be the walking wounded because that is still her lot in life. Now to make matters worse, her daughter is one of them! Despite her best efforts, I have done the unspeakable and become a have.

I have a job. I have new clothes. I have a nice house. I buy things to make my house look nice. I have friends. I do things with people. I’m valued. Oh the horror! Her judgement and self-absorption don’t allow her to know that I bargain hunt. I love a deal. I’m not impressed by brand names. Truth be told, she taught me that stuff, but ego and self-pity don’t allow her to see any good.

Thinking all this through and realizing the relationship she has with her one remaining sister, a lot more is making sense to me. It still justifies nothing, but it provides an extra grain of salt to take with her words. Her sister is 98 and mom still talks about her with the distaste evident in her mouth. I remember last fall when she found out my aunt was finally using a walker. Mom’s eyes sparkled as she laughed and told me that now she was no better than the rest of them. It was the happiest I had seen her in ages. Happy because her sister finally had to start using a walker. Yes, I am aware how messed up that is.

I share this because I am learning to put her in her own box and let her opinions and words stay there. I am doing so much better with this, but the fact the box exists ticks me off still. Then I feel extra ticked off for being annoyed at being annoyed. I want to do a final sale of the real estate she still takes up in my head. I imagine if I look at this from a standpoint of “where’s my win” I can see this differently.

I didn’t get worked up in the moment she said junk yesterday. I wasn’t mulling “how dare she say such things!” It was just the feeling of being rubbed wrong and wanting to shake it off. Looking at it that way actually shows me I’ve made immense progress. I don’t know if I will ever get to the water off a duck’s back status. I don’t know that I need to, I think where I am getting is going to help a lot.

Hi my name is Karen. I’m a bougie, have it all bitch!