Nobody really commented on my post about being a Highly Sensitive Person which means I’m the only one around who’s an HSP which means I’m crying because I feel isolated and alone and also, I AM SO DAMN SENSITIVE.
While driving me to the train station on Sunday, my mom remarked that my blog post about being sensitive was interesting.
I believe she said this because she’s not a Highly Sensitive Person and when I was growing up she had zero idea what to do with me when I would burst into tears for no reason. I feel like sometimes she would yell at me to toughen up and other times she would stare at me bewildered like What…the…hell?
You all remember the dinosaurs are extinct story, right? Because I’d rather not tell it again.
I also feel like Rita said it was interesting because this is the vague adjective my mom uses lately when she wants to really say That is freaking weird and beyond my comprehension.
“Oh! You remember the so-and-so’s from church? They were regulars at the 10:30 mass? Yes, the husband left his wife of TWENTY FIVE YEARS because he decided he’s GAY NOW.”
“Well, mom. I think that’s okay. It’s sad for everyone but it’s alright.”
“I KNOW IT’S ALRIGHT. I’m just saying it’s interesting.”
“The rap lyric that makes up Jeremy’s second tattoo is…interesting.”
I think she has adopted this because my siblings and I, as four self-aware adults now, like to jump down her throat and point out everything she says that’s incorrect or outlandish or obnoxious. It’s charming, right? HEY ALL YOU MOTHERS OUT THERE – just wait until your kids are grown so they can tell you everything you did wrong! It’s amazing! Thanks for giving birth to me! ALSO, YOU’RE A JERK.
My mother calling things interesting is a very smart way of covering her tracks but I am ONTO YOU, Rita. I am onto you.
Anyway, my mom told me that my blog post was interesting and I believe she mostly meant that. Genuinely.
And up until that moment, I had no idea I was helping her out. That still, at ages 27 and 53, we were continuing a dialogue of How She Is and How I Am and How We Disagree and How We Agree and are Similar and Different. It’s sort of awesome to be able to continue this conversation into adulthood. Awesome for me, anyway. I imagine my mother thought that once I turned 18, I would leave her alone until the end of time and shut the heck up. Until I birthed a grandkid.
I also imagine she had no idea that I would take her quirks and post them on the internet.
Um. I’m sorry?
REGARDLESS. I figured there was a lot more my mom didn’t know about me and maybe I could let her know. On the internet, right? Yes. Okay. So! Here is a list of other things my mom should know about me and herself, for future reference:
For My Mom
by Laura Elizabeth, age 27.5
1. You should stop buying me stuff. I know you’re trying to make up for those times when you didn’t have any money but I’m old now. Plus I have a job. I can buy my own sweater.
2. I will think about the fact that you bought me a sweater for days. And when it comes to mind, I will cry. BECAUSE I AM SENSITIVE. And you are kind.
3. You need to stop wearing mom jeans. I say this with love. Step away from the tapered leg.
4. I still can’t fold a fitted sheet. Every time I’m in the laundromat and I attempt it, I get frustrated and I wish you were there to help.
5. Stop telling people to stop cursing on Facebook. No one likes a message from Grouchy Old Catholic Rita telling them not to use the F-word. You’ve used the F-word at least four times in your whole life. I heard it.
6. I still find it very strange that you are on Facebook and I am not and that you Facebook friend all of my friends and then give me their status updates and show me their pictures. Oh my God, mom. Stop being so cute.
7. Remember that time when I was home and you were washing my wheelchair bound father’s hair in the kitchen sink? Because he can’t climb the stairs to the shower? I went outside in the garage and cried because I’m not sure I’m the kind of person who could do that. And I know that you often put up a shield to hide your nurturing sweet self. But I see it. Everyone else does too. And it is astounding.
8. Just because I don’t go to church regularly doesn’t make me a bad person.
9. It does make me a really bad Catholic. I’m sorry?
10. I think the fact that I’m not married bothers you way more than it bothers me. When I think of this, I want to get married just for you. To make you proud of me.
11. Stop buying Pop Tarts and Oreos. That high-fructose corn syrup shit is going to kill you and you better believe while you’re laying in the hospital about to croak, I am going to lecture you all about it. Sort of like that time I got into a car accident and when you appeared on the scene, instead of hugging me close to you and thanking God I was alive, you screamed, THAT SIGN SAYS 45 MILES PER HOUR! I HAVE A HARD TIME BELIEVING YOU WERE DOING 45 MILES PER HOUR AROUND THAT CURVE, YOUNG LADY!
12. Also, you were right. I was going much faster. And that’s how I smashed my Dodge Neon into a concrete meridian and almost died.
13. But I’m alive.
14. And so are you.
15. And isn’t that all kinds of awesome!?
16. Because if I haven’t told you lately, even when you are talking a mile a minute about the priests at work and Sister Mary Ignatius and how I should stop going jogging because that’s what’s causing the spider veins in my legs, I really really like you.
17. Love you, in fact.
18. So, there’s that.