I’ve been a little stressed this week because I had two meetings scheduled today with customers that we were ill prepared for, primarily because a colleague on my end didn’t really do his part in organizing the content, so I went to sleep last night feeling very uneasy.  In the end, both meetings went well, but I woke up this morning from a nightmare that really put me in a worse mood.

I dreamt that I was at my parents’ house, and we were all having a family meal together. Ed came home with a guy… who he announced was actually his boyfriend. I suppose this was his way of “coming out” to us. My parents were shocked and angry, and basically ignored the presence of Ed’s boyfriend. And the little bits of interaction they had with him, they were extremely rude and passive aggressive. It was not a fun meal.

Once he left, the screaming began. My mom screamed louder than I could remember, saying that he was already a screwup, but now he’s gay and bringing home men? My dad’s heard in the background, name-calling Ed. And Ed yelled back until he couldn’t take it anymore and ran into the bedroom and slammed the door. I followed him and comforted him as he sobbed in my chest. “It’s okay,” I soothed him, rubbing his back and holding his head. “We’re going to get you out of here. I won’t let them hurt you anymore. Fuck them. You’re going to survive this. We’re moving you out of here.” We started to pack his bags, and since we locked the door, our mom tried to enter the room but couldn’t. She banged on the door over and over, and we refused to let her in. “I’m not letting you in here to destroy Ed!” I screamed through the door. “I’m getting him out of here, and you can scream all you want! You can’t do anything! LEAVE ED ALONE!”

I think I’m going to have dreams like this until the end of my life. They will never end for me.

I was on the phone with my mom, and she asked if Chris had any upcoming work travel given I’ve been traveling this week. I told her that he’s going to be in San Francisco all week next week for his company’s annual conference. Her voice lit up. She said, “Oh, he is? Well if he is, we should get together for dinner at least one night. Tell him.” I told her that he won’t have time to see her because he’ll be consumed with conference events. But what I really wanted to say, which I held back by literally holding my breath a few times, was, “Dinner together? You want to have dinner together with the man whose house you recently threw knives in, and who you said you didn’t have to respect because he’s ‘black’?”

Not all of us have amnesia and just forget stupid shit that she says. Ed never got over the hurtful words she and our dad used to say to him repeatedly over and over, throughout the course of his entire short life. And now he’s dead, and she’s wondering what went wrong. REALLY? YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED????

I don’t want him seeing them.

I got so frustrated with my mother the other day that I actually told her that she should make an appointment to see a psychologist. Maybe this doesn’t seem that outlandish in the average family, but in my family… these are the things that get scoffed at. My parents thought Ed was weak when he was 18 for seeing one, that he merely used it as an outlet to “talk bad” about his parents to “some outside person” who gets paid too much money. Chances are that seeing one will never help her because she lies endlessly to “outsiders” not in her immediate, immediate family about everything and anything, but her constantly telling me that, “you know I am suffering from depression?” is driving me crazy.

Well, you know what? So I suggested this to her, and two days later, she says that miraculously, her “depression” has improved and she feels so much better. She has “God’s word” and her two good (and annoying) JW friends to keep her company and comfort her, and I call her a couple times a week, so that’s enough for now. Wasn’t that just so convenient?

She refuses to be helped. She just seeks attention and abuses terms like “depression” and “anxiety” to get what she wants. She gives a bad name to the people who are truly suffering… like her son once did, and she did nothing but make him feel worse.

Sometimes, I really don’t know what to say to my mom. She complains endlessly about suffering from depression, picks fights and disputes with people who cares about her who really aren’t trying to harm her, but she insists they harm her, and she expects me to constantly feel sorry for her and is always asking why I don’t come home more often as though home is the most amazing and lovely experience I could possibly have. Today, she was complaining about missing Ed, and said that my dad didn’t want to hear what she felt and what she had to say. “Your dad is useless to talk to,” she mumbled. “He doesn’t care how I feel. No one cares about me other than you. I have no one other than you.” Then, she went on to tell me that my aunt’s good friend just got diagnosed with stage 1 breast cancer, but she’s coping well because her husband is so supportive and always comforts her. “She’s so lucky,” my mom comments. “Her husband actually takes care of her and helps her and listens to her. He comforts her with words. I don’t have that.”

I couldn’t say anything. What am I supposed to say to that? Everything she’s saying is true. My dad doesn’t comfort her; he doesn’t know how to. He is so emotionally inept that just the mere thought of him trying to comfort someone makes me want to scratch my nails on a chalk board. And what am I supposed to do — defend him and lie, or agree and risk getting yelled at later for criticizing my dad?

My parents left yesterday, but I still woke up this morning feeling extremely angry. I was angry at my dad for not standing up to my mom, angry at my mother for being so mentally  unstable to not only ask Chris and me to kill her with the knives she was throwing, but also to accuse Chris of wanting to kill her. Sometimes, I think about all these stupid incidents that happen, and I wonder if all of this is just some endless terrible nightmare that just keeps on going for me. She actually said that she was scared Chris was going to kill her. 

I’m at a loss. My dad will never get help for her. She will never get help for herself. And in blue states, you can’t really commit someone unless she has consented (yeah, there really is a negative side of living in a blue state).

I just feel really angry. I’m at a point where I feel like I may just need to cut ties with her.

My parents left this morning. The last two times they came, I felt a little empty when they left, even though the last time, my mother picked three different explosive fights with me, with one resulting in my leaving my own apartment overnight. This time, I felt no emptiness at all, no sinking sensation, not one sense of longing; all I felt was relief, as though this massive weight that could kill me was being lifted off me. Now, I can finally stand being in my own apartment again.

And then as though their time here could not have gotten worse, my eyes were irritating me all morning, with my computer usage at work not helping that at all. And it resulted in my leaving work early because of this lingering burning sensation that was especially strong in my left eye. What, is that supposed to be like the grand finale to the end of their trip, that they somehow burned my eyes out and resulted in my needing to lie down the rest of the afternoon to recover?

The week my parents have been here is coming to an end. It’s quite a painful and awful end, especially considering it’s ended with my mom storming out of the apartment this morning, then realizing she was locked out, then staying locked out for eight hours and not telling us she had no food, water, or money because she stupidly left her wallet OUT of her purse when she stormed out, then deciding once we got back, that she would start throwing knives all over our counter and ask us to kill her. Oh, she shut her phone off for most of the day, so we had no way of contacting her.

As the Aussies say, it was quite “brilliant.”

Dear Ed,

Today, you would have turned 38. Happy birthday. Or, perhaps I should be wishing you a happy un-birthday since you aren’t alive anymore to celebrate. Or, perhaps I should not even talk about celebrating since our parents never really celebrated your birthday much because they never appreciated you in the way good parents should.

Sorry, my tone isn’t very positive or happy or even wistful in the least. It’s mainly because our parents ignored my request for them to not be here in New York on your birthday, when Chris and I usually do something fun and delicious to honor your birthday, and it’s one of the last days I ever want to be with the two of them. It’s been just as miserable of a visit as you can imagine. I’ll be honest and say it’s not as bad as the visit when you came in July 2011 for our cousin’s wedding, but it’s a close second. Everything is complaining and bickering and moaning, and everything is my fault or some stupid, catty, passive-aggressive remark. Dad says he wants to do all these things before the trip starts, and when the trip starts, he happens to “forget” or says he didn’t write an address down or didn’t do any research beforehand… all which could easily be remedied by using the computer and looking something up — so laziness in general. He complains that imaginary places are out of business that he doesn’t even know of, and then complains he doesn’t have enough time (he obviously had plenty of time; he would be here for a week by the time he leaves).

Our mom is snooping in all the drawers and trying to rearrange things. She’s insisting that she bought certain things while I bought certain things, and it’s so senseless that it’s not even funny. And when I’m preparing food, like chopping onions or slicing peaches, she stands so close to me with her 4’8″ body that if I moved just a bit, I could easily cut her or elbow her in her face, and she doesn’t understand why I keep getting frustrated and tell her to move all the time. She told me that I’m being mean to her. She also keeps putting the toilet seat up because she insists that’s the way a proper house works. Two days ago, she accused me of making all her avocados brown by putting them in the fridge and picked a fight about it (that’s the type of thing my mom loves to argue about, but she insists she never argues ever and that someone else always starts the fight). She already bought them for cheap at three for $1 in Chinatown because they were already mushy and far past their prime. Now, it’s my fault for putting them in the fridge and getting them brown. Because there’s no way they could have been brown when they were mushy before the fridge, right?

These are just a part of the reasons that I’m actually happy you’re no longer with us. You never have to have another senseless, stupid argument about something that doesn’t matter even a tad ever, ever again. You never have to get blamed for something stupid that they did that you obviously never did. You never have to get verbally abused again. You never have to be told you’re selfish or ungrateful or stupid or a moron or useless ever again. You never have to be criticized ever again. You never have to be cold in your own bedroom. You never have to have people constantly barging into your bedroom and turning on the overhead light while you are trying to sleep. You never have to have pointless orders barked at you when you are trying to relax. You never have to be told to do something right away, or else get screamed at. You never have to be relegated to the basement bathroom. You never have to get blamed when there is pee on the rim of the toilet. You never have to drink milk or juice and then leave your mug in the sink, then have her come home and get angry and slam your mug down and break the handle because she’s mad you didn’t put water in the mug to clean it out first. Remember that strawberry fields mug and how cute it was? It was so tragic when the handle completely broke off in her fit of rage.

There were too many terrible things you endured with them. Is it bad that I’m happy you don’t have to deal with them any longer? I miss you and love you. I just wish you had better circumstances. I wish you had better people in your life who truly loved you and encouraged you to be what you wanted to be. Is that really so much to ask?

Every day this week has felt extremely long, painful, and stressful. It has little to do with work (though it has been quite busy there), and all to do with the fact my parents are in town, and nothing is ever easy or stress-free with them. Each night I’ve gone to sleep on the sofa bed and felt like passing out. The emotional exhaustion is at its max this week.

Let’s navigate this scenario. My cousin and his wife, who have a nearly five-year-old, just moved and now live only five subway stops away. My aunt, my cousin’s mom, is staying with them, and asked for us to come visit them this Saturday. My mom is angered by the invitation, and said that she refuses to go unless she hears the invitation directly from my cousin and his wife. “Did (your cousin) ask me? No. He never called me even once even though he knew we were in town to invite me. Why should I go over there when his mother invites us? It’s not her house.” That’s not even the end of it. She just kept going on and on, saying the same thing in different words as though I didn’t hear her the first time.

I’m not even sure what to say. How am I supposed to respond to that rationale?

Then, this happened.

“Your cousin has no manners at all. His auntie and uncle who rarely come to New York come, and he doesn’t even bother calling us or offer to take us out to eat. He doesn’t know anything,” she complains.

“But he’s always been like that,” I said nonchalantly. “That’s just the way he is.”

“No, you’re wrong,” she retorts. “Don’t blame him. He isn’t to blame for that behavior. It’s his parents, his mother is who we should be blaming for never teaching her children properly. He’s the way he is because of his parents.”

Well, that’s interesting logic. If that can be applied, then what can be applied to my mother…..?!

My parents haven’t been to New York since 2011, and they’ve arrived for a week stay here starting today. I waited for them to arrive at the apartment before I could leave for work, but because their arrival time here was so close to my first morning call, I had to do my video call at home. I sat on the couch, with my video turned on, but occasionally had to shut it off when I was giving my mother the side-eye for literally going through every kitchen cupboard and cabinet within her reach, and then peering closely at every single photo she could see displayed anywhere.

There really are no limits with my parents. Because I’m their child, they think they should and need to have access to literally everything that is mine. What fun for me.