Living alone diaries #31; talking to my mother, speaking boundaries, and murderous colleges
It’s Tuesday, 10:33 am.
I just finished my practices — meditation, yoga, and journaling — and I feel light.
I think the feeling of lightness is not something that’s talked about enough; it’s such a nice one.
It makes sense that the feelings I hate are heaviness and density — that’s not to say these feelings aren’t good, but we all know that anger and sadness are harder to accept than peace and happiness.
It’s something I’ve been trying to do; allow myself to acknowledge my feelings and emotions, but not let them control me, or at least not fully.
I’m listening to this amazing body of work that I just discovered, and if you’re into electronic music, I highly recommend it.
Today I honoured myself by speaking a boundary.
So, you know I talked about how this used to be an issue, but also how I’m much better at it now?
I feel like as someone with African parents, they’re always going to be the exception to most, if not all, of your boundaries.
If you know me, you know I hate phone calls.
And I can remember when this started actually. It was a birthday in 2019.
Throughout that morning and afternoon, I’d taken at least ten phone calls from well-wishers, and when I saw another come in, I just felt this wave of irritation and exhaustion.
I couldn’t even enjoy my day because I was too busy doing “thank you so much!” every two seconds.
So, I just stopped answering the calls for the rest of the day.
I know that my distaste for calls didn’t just start there, but I do know that’s when it peaked and I actively recognized it.
I don’t like the suddenness of phone calls, and to be honest, I find them kind of rude and offensive; most people just pick up their phones and dial your number and no matter what you’re in the middle of, or what you’re feeling, they just expect you to pick up.
And that irritates me to no end. Why can’t you just text me or send a voice note?
To me, phone calls are for emergencies or time-sensitive matters.
Don’t call me to gist or catch up, don’t call me because you’re bored, and for God’s sake, don’t call me to wish me thanks or congratulate me on anything.
Text me. Send a voice note.
I promise to God, I would appreciate that a lot more than a phone call.
Also, I just don’t like talking in general.
It sounds crazy but I just really don’t, and that’s all a phone call is; useless talk.
I get weary of speaking quickly, especially because I know people find it rude when I don’t have anything to say or don’t want to talk, or when I can’t comfortably speak my thoughts i.e. with most parents and figures of authority in my life.
It’s like what’s the point? It’s exhausting.
That’s just how I am.
Anyways, all this backstory so you understand how much I dislike calls.
My mother on the other hand? A woman of the phone. A cellular lady. The Duchess of vociferation (joke).
She doesn’t mind calling for the slightest, most insignificant thing.
As you can imagine, this irks me to no end, and we don’t see eye to eye on this at all.
I know it’s bad, but I rarely answer her calls.
Don’t come for me, please.
To my defence, at various points, I have told her that I don’t like phone calls, and I think they’re an emergency measure, and she’d seem to understand, then go ahead to call me again randomly in two days.
It’s the most irritating, exasperating cycle because even if I pick up, I’d be in a bad mood and she’d notice and ask me why which would further exacerbate my sour tone.
She called yesterday, and I didn’t answer, and then she called again this morning. To stem any worry on her part, I decided to just text her.
In the text, I told her I was well, asked her if all was well, then told her that I really — another one for emphasis — really, appreciate it when she texts or sends voice notes instead of calling.
It was polite and respectful, but above all, it was an honest honouring of self.
We don’t have an amazing relationship, my mother and I, but she’s the family member I care about the most, so I think it’s important to have open communication, if not with everyone else, but with her.
We both deserve that.
It brings to mind the sentiment that sometimes, you have to teach people how to love you — and that doesn’t mean they love you any less, they just don’t know how to.
And that’s fine.
Before you come at me with the oh but, she’s your mother talk, there are two things I want you to take into consideration.
She is my mother, and I am her child, irrefutable.
But primarily, we are two adults in a relationship. In other relationships, you are encouraged to state your boundaries and communicate and all that, so why should it be any different because she’s my mother?
If I had a child, I would want them to tell me how best to make them feel comfortable and cared for.
The principle is much the same, and people seem to forget that children will grow up and will have agency over themselves.
The second point of consideration, and the most crucial; I don’t care much what other people think of the relationships I have in my life, because they’re just that; mine.
My mother is primarily empathetic, like me, so she’s fundamentally a good parent. She took my messages in stride and has even resorted to texting me when she wants my opinions on jewelry she wants to buy.
I feel much better that I told her how I felt and I’m very grateful she understood.
I hope this whole weird rant has made some sort of sense.
The point is, setting boundaries and honouring yourself is usually hard, and sometimes people get offended (as if it’s about them.) You might even feel bad for speaking up and saying how you feel, but at the end of the day, bending and stretching for people will drain you and leach your joy in relationships.
Two things can happen when you are honest with yourself and your boundaries with people.
They get offended, take how you feel/what you said personally, make you feel like cr@p, and when they see you don’t budge, they will create distance/leave.
That sounds painful and hard and damn, who wants to lose a good friend or a partner or whoever else that person is to you. But at the end of the day, you win because do they care about you enough if they don’t want you to respect yourself?
Chelsea, come on now. The same jacket in 2022?
The second and this is slightly rarer; they don’t take offence, they introspect, and they respect you even more for saying what you need.
Honestly, both are good things in my opinion.
2022, I stated my boundaries a lot and because of that, the number of relationships I have has narrowed substantially.
I couldn’t be happier.
With parents, it’s a bit more complicated than that, but it is essentially the same.
Just start with the smaller stuff, that’s been working for me, I think.
2023 has been an interesting year so far; I’ve been on a podcast, gotten published and been interviewed for what seems like will be an interesting story by a publication I love.
I’m still unemployed, anxious about my future, and scared for my life, but what can I do that I’m not doing already?
I was going to do a new year’s resolutions entry or even just a normal post on my medium, but I realized it would be redundant as I’ve already said everything in the last two entries (If you haven’t read them, you are very wrong for that.)
What are you guys’ new year’s resolutions? Do you even have any?
I’m interested.
Also, I noticed that a lot of you guys just read and don’t clap?
IN 2022? CHELSEA COME ON NOW. Come on now.
I deserve claps.
Pun intended.
I love clapping, mmhmm.
Anyways, see you next week.
Oh wait,
I just realized I never told you about this amazing novel I started reading. It’s called The secret history, by Donna Tartt, and I love it.
It’s about a murder that happened in a very exclusive, elitist college in Vermont, US, circa the 1950s. It’s really good and I highly recommend it because it’s not just a normal murder mystery or anything; from the first page, you know who killed who, and the rest of the book tells you how it happened and why from the perspective of one of the people involved.
In regular fashion with books I enjoy, I have a corresponding playlist that I compiled of songs I listen to while reading that particular book.
I’ll link it here, for anyone interested.
Riveting read.
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