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codependentfarm-blog · 6 years

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No More Car Rides Together

Well this next one was fun. Today we had to run some errands. By that I mean, my mother wanted to go to the hardware store and some other places in search of something specific.

So our morning starts with a trip to the tire store were I sat with mom behind the counter as my mother, who has a learning disability and a major hearing loss attempted to negotiate a simple concept with the teller so she felt comfortable with what she needed to know. With a full Saturday line of impatient people behind us.

My whole family suffers from genetic hearing loss and even I struggle with is from time to time. But I also know how the real world works and if a teller is saying no we dont have that, or this is your options, or anything really, Its not going to go anywhere if you attempt to negotiate with an agenda. My mother hasn’t learned this concept. She just learned to use a cell phone and text program in the last 5 years. She is just getting used to certain things and the world isnt slowing down at all for her to catch up. She still asks for help printing emails.

So at this point the man behind the counter is getting visibly annoyed and the line isn’t any happier. So my mother looks to me to translate for her and to repeat what the guy said. So I explain we are looking for this specific thing but if they have any improvements we are willing to look at better. At one point I volunteered the most critical secret nugget of information, I said, “we like our Hukscavarna and want it to stick around for another year or two,” which my mother later chastised me for because apparently she doesn’t like the thing and me speaking for her to the teller like that was just way out of turn. After getting the stink eye for that I wrapped it up and let my mother finish.

Leaving the store I could tell this was just gonna be a fun day. We get in the car, after the unsucessful store stop and my mother announces where she wants to go. I said, “I know what your thinking of but have no idea how to get there(something I had said several times by that point but whose counting). So tell me which direction you want me to go in and I will.” Like I said, this was the third or forth time I had repeated myself on that one. We reach a freeway on ramp and my mother tells me to get into the lane for the back roads. I do. Then she asks me, “we could take the freeway or the back way, what do you think.” I said the same phrase to her once more and realizing she wasn’t having non of my lack of participation I cut the silence with, “Either works, the freeway shouldn’t be crouded this time of day. But then neither way is on a Saturday here.” My mother responds with, “well we could take the freeway, its just I dont know what exit we are looking for.” I didn’t either so I said nothing. The traffic starts moving and I go forward in the lane im in, heading for the back roads. My mother imidiotly starts screaming for me to take the other road.

There was very little time to react. I got over with some grace and a lot of tension. But it really brought focus to how quickly we seem to go from 0-screaming. The realization made me very uncomfortable because I was now very aware of how trapped I was in a car with my mother. This situation had resulted in fights before. My mother in a car with me is just one more chance for her to talk to me. Not with me, but to me. She tells me her fears, her stresses, her plans, and her emotions about certain people places and things. She wants me to sit there and activily listen, participate, communicate and make her feel heard. All the while not actually contributing anything to conversation other than an interested ear for my mother to spill her guts to. Iv done this my whole life, years and years of listining to my mother talk about everything and when I needed to talk she would not return the favor. She was always to busy, doing something else, or willing to listen as long as I fallowed her around and helped her work while I talked. Which also meant she would interupt me to make a point because we were next to the thing she wanted to talk about.

Thats how her mind works. She doesnt retain much so when she remembers it she has to communicate it and its entire history of thought while its fresh in her head. And for a drivin workaholic person like her, every few minutes is full of a 47 minute allagory about what needs to be done, how it needs to be done and why. Its a lot to take. You get blind to it over the years, you get used to having those boundries violated regularly. Constantly being bambarded with what to do’s and how to do’s, morning noon and night. Everything came with instructions, lengthy instructions I was required to listen to. I thought all parents were like that till I met my husband and we discussed this behavior together. Moms behavior is harassing and overwhelming and it cost me my retirement to admit that to myself and allow myself to understand that most of its wrong.

We proceeded to drive around towns we bairly knew looking for a tractor dealership my mom saw once from the freeway. Much discussion about the yelling of freeway directions fallowed but I tried to keep is minimal and just repeat my I dont know, I will do what you tell me every time we reached a stop sign and mom asked me for directions with a,” What do you think.” I have learned to not give my opinion because im often told how its wrong and I dont want to hear that with everything in my life, even subjects Iv emerssed myself in that my mother has not. My mother was getting more and more annoyed. Both at our lost situation and at my lack of participation in the process. I was just concentrating on driving the stick shift truck down residential streets. One way or another I had made up my mind to wait till we got home to discuss my feelings on anysubject. I had learned a great tip, never argue with a violent person in a closed space you cant get out of. In fact, open spaces with exits and often something in between, like a couch or a mini bar. Helps keep the interaction healthier with a maintained boundary between two people at odds.

By the end of the trip the tension was high and we were both clearly uncomfortable in the space we were in. I took the time to listen to music in my head and be positive. When we got home I waited till we unloaded the car and settled before I said, “okay, I feel we need to talk about that a little because that was kinda uncomfortable,’” she took that opportunity to imidiotly agree with me. I went on, “So, its not likely we will be doing many more of those in the future. Weve discussed that before and not really stuck to it, but this time were probably not going to do that agian.” which she agreed to. The conversation continued with me saying I wouldnt like to put myself in that position again until we had had some therapy and I brought up the issue that it wasnt then likely because my mother has told me she doesnt have the time in her life to go to therapy with me. It seems this hit a nerve this time with her so she agreed to go to therapy and pay half because she was tired of me bringing that up against her. Which was nice. I said I would need to take some time back from mom because at this point she was screaming and upset and I wasnt up for that so I calmly said I would be stepping away from her for a little bit.

Once I said that it was the spanish inquisition from her as to what that meant, what was I going to do or not do. What could she expect or count on. Essentially black and whiting it. I said I didn’t know, that this was new to me, boundaries and all and I was likely to mess it up but right now I just needed to get away from the yelling and stress so she may not see me to much. And I walked away.

Later I reflected that I felt good about the encounter. I stayed calm, didnt manipulate or have an attitude. Waiting till I got to safe place to have a heavy discussion and then walked away after announcing my intentions to do so without sarcasm. And then my husband came home from work and we went on hike together and had a wonderful evening. It felt good, but at the same time very heavy. Change is hard.

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