It feels lately like the number of things I can safely talk about here is becoming smaller and smaller, and I don’t like that feeling. People read this blog who read it simply to report back to others about what I said or did not say about them. That’s wrong. But it’s the way it is.
Still, my thoughts and feelings about things, especially about myself and how I interact with people, continues to change. One thing is certain about life, and that is that it will aways change. Circumstances, perceptions, whatever. Nothing remains static and you can be sure about that. Like where you are right now? Feel comfortable there? Don’t worry, the rug will come out from under you eventually. Not that it’s a bad thing, being flung toward the floor, and if you have great balance it’s no big deal at all! But it will happen. We thrive on change, as much as we resist it.
Oh. So what was I talking about? Oh yes, my mom.
I phone my mom every week. Back some years ago, we didn’t speak as frequently. I was uncomfortable with her, mainly because she was uncomfortable with me. Fine, whatever. But we came to some unspoken understanding and found a place where we could at least interact. Sort of. I mean, if you like shallow water and all. But if anything ever got deeper than that, even a little bit, she’d retreat. I figured I’d just deal with that (after all, it was “good enough”) indefinitely.
Sorry. I have changed my mind. Not gonna do it.
True. I thought I was “over” my issues with my mom, but guess what? I’m not.
So the past few weeks we’ve (or rather, she’s) been talking about a situation at her work. New Manager Guy annoys her. New Manager Guy talks too loud. New Manager Guy asks for too much. New Manager Guy wants her to change the way she’s been doing her job for, like, 20 years. She hates New Manager Guy. So, Karen, what should I do? Please tell me what to dooooo!!
Understand, my mom is 72, almost 73. I’m not sure she needs to work financially, but I have no idea what her financial situation is because she changes the subject if I ask questions like that. It’s fine for me to talk about my kids or the cats or even the herd of cats she feels obligated to feed and care for and can’t spend the night at my brother’s house on Christmas because of because the Cats Might Miss Her and because She Won’t be There to Feed Them (these are OUTDOOR cats. Who live OUTSIDE), but if it gets more personal on either end then things get mighty uncomfortable.
So I ask questions. She vents. I give some advice. Bottom line? I think she’s the victim of age discrimination. I am not litigious by nature, in fact I am the polar opposite of litigious especially after all this fucking time spent in custody/support/divorce court, but I advise her to see someone, to find out what her options are.
After all, she’s on a mandatory suspension from her job right now. (Which is why I can write this, because I am taking the chance she will never read it since she only reads my blog from work…am I playing with fire here?)
So she has some time on her hands.
She only had to say “okay, that’s a good idea, I will think about that.”
That’s all I wanted. I have been in middle management. I know what goes on when a company decides to squeeze someone out. I also know what an employee’s rights are.
But no. “Don’t worry about me, Karen. I can handle it.” Um, yeah. Like you’ve been handling it. Would it be a crime to let someone HELP you?? Hey mom, I KNOW that this makes you uncomfortable, makes you want to run for the hills and then stick your head in the sand when you get there, but there are times when you need to STAND UP FOR YOURSELF DAMMIT!!
Oops, I may be speaking to myself there. My bad.
But hey. She’s getting screwed, I care, and all she had to do was at least acknowledge, or just PRETEND to acknowledge, that maybe Karen had a good idea. Maybe Karen could be right about something. Maybe Karen is trying to help. And maybe I can let someone in, just a little.
I’m all for the idea of choices, believe me. My entire understanding of the universe is built on the concept of Choice, so hey, I GET IT when I see my mom making a choice that I think sucks and will hurt her. I get it. I do. But it hurts me to be so fucking invisible.
Enough. Not invisible any more.
Watch out, people.