I never thought that her anger could affect me so much. My mom is mad at me, for whatever reason, and she has been for a week now. It started last weekend, when I was supposed to wash the dishes. My dad started washing the dishes because he didn’t know that I was supposed to, and I didn’t stop him. I hate washing the dishes and if someone else wants to do it, that’s fine by me. My mom came down and was furious that I hadn’t stopped my dad and done the dishes myself. She started yelling at me, that I was a college student, that I should know better, that I shouldn’t let my dad do the chores. This sexist attitude of hers riles me up every time so I was pissed off because of it. I told her that my dad was almost done with the dishes anyways so there was no point in stopping him. That really made her mad. She began yelling even more about how I don’t do anything in this house and I act like everyone is my slave. Of course, that’s not the case. I may not do much in the house, but I do whatever she tells me to. And I certainly don’t treat anyone like my slave. Anyways, I stopped my dad, and finished up the dishes. I was really pissed at this point because she had been yelling that I should spontaneously clean the house but I don’t. That I should at least clean the stairs every weekend I come home but I don’t. I’m sorry that I wasn’t aware of this chore that I was never even told about. If she had told me to do it, I would have. That combined with that sexist attitude really had me boiling. I stomped upstairs and declared I wasn’t hungry for dinner. My mom forced me to sit and eat because she wanted us all to eat together. When she called my dad, he said he’d already eaten and didn’t join us. That really seemed to piss off my mom. At the table, as we’re eating, my mom starts to cry. I hate seeing her cry because it makes me want to cry. It wasn’t my fault that she cried but I still felt a little bad. To be honest, she’s been crying more and more lately and she doesn’t try to hide it in front of the kids anymore. I don’t know what it is. Anyways, after that, she ignored me for the next few days. She was at work during the day so we didn’t have to interact for most of the day but in the evenings, she ignored me. After about two days, she was ok but she doesn’t talk to me. She doesn’t tell me what to do. She hasn’t asked me to pray and when my turn to wash the dishes came around again, she indirectly asked no one in specific whose turn it was and my sister said it was mine. She didn’t even tell me to pick up the kids on Friday until I asked if I supposed to. I’ve already gotten over my anger, I was over it the morning after the incident. I get over things really fast. And she should have gotten over it too. But she hasn’t. I usually extend peace offerings if I’m mad at someone younger than me but she’s older and she’s my mom. And the fact that she’s still mad at me makes me want to cry. It has made cry. I feel like she doesn’t care about me anymore and I want to do something really bad to get her attention, to see if she’ll do anything.
I had a good cry last night. I don’t even know why I was crying. Let me tell you what happened yesterday….
I went to work and came back home. As I was eating dinner at the table with my dad (mom and sister were warming up their food), my mother yelled at me for not putting the yogurt on the table. She had not told me to do so, nor had she told me to set the table or anything. She just started yelling at me that I should’ve put it on the table, that she shouldn’t have to tell me what to do and what not to do anymore, that I’m not two years old anymore, that I don’t do “anything” in the house. Completely uncalled for in my opinion. It’s not like she was irritated with me or anything. She just started yelling at me.
Later that evening, I was in my room watching a movie and my younger sister came in (age 13). I was slightly irritated because I wanted to finish my movie but I didn’t say anything and I tried to welcome her. She’s been complaining that I never let her sit in my room and I never talk to her. So, I’m trying to change that. So I put my movie down and listened to her story. Then I asked her if she had prayed Isha (it was 10:45 pm). She replied “Possssssibbllllyyy………….maybe……..” She claims that she said, “Possibllyyyy….not.” But that is most certainly not what I heard. But that is besides the point. I asked her if it was possible for a human to have possibly prayed. You either pray or you don’t. There is no in between. I said all of this in a calm voice, and not accusing at all. She replied that it was if you had amnesia or something. I asked her if she truly, in her heart, believed that this was true, that you could “possibly” pray. She replied that she did. After she argued with me for about 5 minutes, she finally stated that she was joking/being sarcastic when she said that. I told her if that was the case, then why did she argue with me for 5 minutes that it was possible for someone to have “possibly” prayed. She argued with me about that for 5 minutes more, claiming that everyone always picks on her and I should’ve known she was joking. I didn’t. I told that I cannot tell anymore when she is joking/being sarcastic/lying/actually telling the truth. She lies way too often for me to be able to decipher what she is doing. I told her that. She asked me to give her an example of when she lied. I told her how earlier this evening, Ammi said she saw my sister with her math book in her lap, watching TV (she was supposed to be doing math homework). My sister yelled at Ammi that she always throws “accusations” at her that are not true. Ammi yelled back at her if this was not the case, if she was or was not doing what she said. My sister tried to stomp away but Ammi kept yelling at her to answer her question and finally my sister said it was true. When I related this incident to my sister, she started yelling that Ammi always makes generalizations about her, that it was only true about 50% of the time. At that point she was steamrolling over everything I said and the time was 11:05 pm. 15 minutes of arguing with this child. I was so tired. So incredibly tired of her constant arguing, her complaints, her yelling, her lying, her. I started tearing up and I asked her to leave. She did. And that’s when I started crying. I don’t know if it was from arguing with her, or if it was my sadness for my younger sister, who spends her days watching TV and eating, never believing herself to be wrong, and having to argue at every SINGLE thing possible. Maybe I shouldn’t have picked that argument last night, but I was so fed up with her constant arguing. My vision I currently blurring as I write this.
I don’t even know how to approach her anymore.
“What was the last thing that gave you a real, authentic, tearful, hearty belly laugh? Why was it so funny?” —The Daily Post.
The last time I really had a good laugh was earlier this year, during the spring semester. I had seen an article on Buzzfeed about girls who have b—- resting faces and it reminded me of my younger sister, who had been complaining of her own resting face a few days earlier. So I pulled up the article on my iPad and went to her room to show her. She finished up her drawing and came over on the bed to look at it. As she was scrolling through, she started laughing and laughing and then she was crying and then she was gasping for breath because it was so funny to her. I hadn’t found it that funny but seeing her laugh so hard made me laugh really hard and pretty soon, I too, was gasping for breath and clutching my stomach in laughter. We laughed together for a good bit and my sister had to put the iPad down in the middle of the article for fear she would lose her breath. We laughed ourselves out and then went back to the article and laughed some more and finally we made it through the article.
But what I love about that memory is that it wasn’t the article that made me laugh, it was my sister’s laughter that made me laugh.
You know what I hate? When I complain about a test being hard, people, including friends, just say that I can do it because I’m smart and then they move on to tell how much they lack in smartness. When I talk about a good grade I got, I get nasty looks and people just say that that’s what they expected anyways and they act like I’m trying to brag.
And that’s why I never complain to friends about schoolwork. The only people who will ever see my full-out stress mode over a test/assignment will be my family. And the only people I ever tell my grades to are my parents because, although they put on a lot of pressure for good grades, they understand that I’ve worked my butt off and that good grades don’t just come easy, I work hard for them.
Ranting because these past few days have been hell.
Whenever I meet a new person, I try to figure them out. I listen to how they use their words, how they structure their sentences. I listen to what they say, what is important to them, what they find funny. I watch their body language, how they carry themselves, how they perceive other people or objects around them. I watch their faces, what kinds of expressions they use in different situations. And I’m not a very good judge of character/personality, but I’m working on it.
But people from another culture, another language, another country, they are so difficult to understand right away. And even after a month, when I think I’ve figured them out, they say or do something I completely don’t expect. Even though I understand the denotation of what they’re saying to me, I don’t get the connotation because I haven’t grown up in that culture. I can’t tell why they say something rather than something else. I can’t tell if they think something is genuinely funny or they’re just messing around with me. I can’t tell if they hold themselves the way they do just because that’s the way they are, or because they don’t like me. And that can get frustrating. Especially if you’re related by blood. Even though we look so physically similar, I still don’t know you.