Thursday, May 31, 2007

Approval. I wait and long for...?
My best writing is done at night, in the quiet of my room, as the rest of the complex lies in slumber. Words come more freely to me over a caramel late and F. Scott Fitzgerald or over the prose of John Steinbeck ( whose writing I've always idolized)or during one of the all too rare moments of (often painfully achieved) personal epiphany. Tonight I rediscovered my absolute inadequacy - that is at least in my mother's eyes. Recently a younger half-cousin of mine came to spend the night in our humble apartment due to (presumably) my mother's whims. During this time my feelings on the matter were not only disregarded- but met with hostility. As the hours passed I witnessed my younger half-cousin giggle, bake and whisper long into the night with my mother- activities that even in my younger days were deemed out of the question because of my mother's demanding work schedule. This is ignoring the fact that she is scheduled to work perhaps more demanding hours now than ever before...

Which leads me to where I sit tonight.

My quiet is broken by the girlish chatter filtering through the paper thin walls separating me from my mother- symbolizing perhaps (with greater irony than could ever be imagined) the much larger gulf separating us emotionally. At a time when support (or even her tacit approval) for the person I am becoming is crucial- I receive little more than scorn at my 'childish" request for consideration, for speaking my mind.

I am to involved with my occupation of seeking acceptance; she is far too involved with fulfilling her personal desires and spurning all that would interrupt her selfish happiness- daughter included.

I only wonder after all this time why it is that I seek approval and love as I do, why it is I don't see myself as worthy unless I'm of worth to another person. I wonder why it is I measure my personal worth by any standards besides my own. Logically this is an issue that begs redress, but I can't shake the feeling that without recognition, without praise I am worthless.

Self-doubt, and this quiet disapproval I feel growing in the eyes of my "betters"- I don't understand it. Rather I do not understand my reaction to it. My mother and I live in different worlds. I need and she refuses to give- mostly I do not suffer as a result. She grew up in a different time, a different person. I dream and write- she sang, rebelled at my age; the quiet dreams I hold for the future mean little to her- they yield no results. My grades are insufficient to her standards. Standards were much less upon people her age, if that means anything- my pleas for understanding fall on deaf ears. I'm strange to her- a sushi eating, peace-loving, Japanese-speaking, trance-listening,online-gaming, politically unaffiliated day-dreaming weirdo with little more to contribute to her than the society around me. I am nothing like her, and for that I do not, will not, can not have her acceptance. I know that; and frankly, I cannot change it. I can only change my reaction to the situation- my state of mind, as it were. I realize that my only power lies in my perception and interpretation of the situation. I cannot force my mother to love or accept me. But God what I would give...
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