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Reblogged from Treasured Tresses

JCPenney is my favorite department store.

Firmly securing their place at the top of the list (above the cute clothes at great prices): 

The tag reads: What makes dad so cool? He's the swim coach, lunch maker, best friend, toilet-fixer and hug-giver--all rolled into one. Or two. 

Of course, they're getting all kinds of backlash from their conservative "traditional consumer base" and some conservative columnists have been blaming the company's loss in stock value etc. this year on their acceptance and celebration of ALL kinds of families. But even though those criticisms were raised after their Mother's Day ad with two moms, they published this, and that shows that they're the kind of company I love--the kind with values based on, you know, human decency and acceptance, rather than trying to get the most money possible.   

Reblogging because I'm worried about my mom:

The most ominous words your mother can say...

...change as we get older. When we are children, "No" is the most ominous word that can come out of your mother's mouth. As we get slightly older, "We'll see," takes on that connotation (because it means your-ass-knows-the-answer-is-no-and-now-I'm-annoyed-that-you-put-me-in-this-situation-where-I-can't-tell-you-no-publicly-because-of-the-company-we're-in). Then comes "I need you to...", which is quickly followed by "How much money do you have?" 

I thought I was going to stay somewhat begrudgingly in that last stage for a good long while. I was wrong. All of a sudden, I have entered the worst of stages, that I wasn't expecting to hit for years and years, given the fact that my mother is 10 days shy of her 42nd birthday. If The Most Ominous Words Your Mother Can Say was a video game, this would be the final boss battle.


To the best of my memory, today was only the third time I have ever seen my mother cry outside of the context of a sad movie. It is the second time I can remember her voice cracking while she was speaking to me because of the overwhelming emotion. It is the only time I can remember her admitting she is afraid. It is the only time since I was small enough to need to hold someone's hand when crossing the street that she has allowed me to touch her and hold on. 

This conversation began with her asking me to get in the car. I could tell something was up by the tone of her voice, so as I was opening the car door, I started asking what was wrong. When she says the next thing she says, you think the most ominous words your mother can say are, "I'm sick." Then she gets more specific, and you learn you are wrong again.

The not talking may drive me crazy, but she didn't need to ask me to not speak of this for me to know I can't. I can't tell my best friends. I can't even tell my dad. She has asked me not to spend more time at home than I was planning to. She has asked me not to call her everyday or do anything out of the ordinary. She considered not even telling me because she didn't want to taint my senior year, and has asked me to party tonight and carve pumpkins tomorrow and live my life without being constantly overwhelmed by fear and worry. This is a tall order. I am more afraid than I have ever been of anything in the entirety of my life.


After she left, she texted me with one simple word. Smile.


And so I'm going to try to, because my mother told me to. I'm going to try to smile as much as when I first started dating my ex and everyone told me how happy I looked. I'm going to test the black-don't-crack theory with the potential for laugh lines I'm going to create. People are going to think I'm on some shit when thesis gets real and I'm just beaming away.

But don't hold your breath waiting for me to say I'm surviving without any tears.

Things that make me feel grown as hell

When my dad asks me to borrow $450 til Friday so he doesn't bounce a check and I transfer it via Paypal no problem because I have that and more to spare right now and get paid on Wednesday. What is my life?

INSANE WHIRLWIND OF EMOTIONS cannot begin to accurately describe the past two days.

Extreme sadness. Hurt. Fury that almost scared me. Fear separately. Deep confusion, or maybe simply a profound lack of understanding.



All of those feelings are done now. Well I'm still sad that it's over, because I wanted to snuggle into this and stay there for a long while, but I feel nothing like the overwhelming _________ I was feeling. I feel surprisingly good right now. I feel like nothing was as bad as I'd thought/imagined/suspected/worried/feared. I am not a bad judge of character, and I would like to come out and publicly say to all of you who know me in real life and know the other person involved in this situation--he is not the villain here. This situation doesn't have a villain. It has two good people who made some bad choices and that's it. #theoppositeofpubliclyflaming


I'm not gonna list out all the terrible things that have been running through my head. They don't need mentioning, as they're all either flat out wrong, unwarranted, invalid, or have been deconstructed to the point of my being content. It may have felt at first like the world was ending, but up is still up, down is still down, and I don't think anything permanently damaging happened here. 



I have, however, learned a lot. And the things I have learned can be listed:

1.  It is entirely impossible to undervalue honesty, especially when you know the truth is going to hurt. 
2. Wanting to mean something is entirely different from meaning it. Changing your definition of something so that you can mean it isn't being honest either. 
3. Relationships are based on a lot of assumptions. It's probably a good idea to talk about things rather than assuming you're on the same page about X issue.
4. It actually shocks me that these words are about to come out of my mouth, but maybe it really is the thought that counts. Intentions mean something, even when they lead down unpredictable and hurtful paths. Sometimes people deserve the benefit of the doubt even in the most unfortunate situations.
5. Anger is actually an essential part of the healing process. 
6. My friends are awesome. But I already knew that.
7. Pain does not automatically negate all the previous joy a situation gave. Hurt does not erase prior happiness. I'm not saying "don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened," because I think that crying is a healthy part of LIFE in general, and it's important to be unabashedly sad when something makes you sad...but when it's all said and done, everything good that happened still happened. And that's what you should focus on. 
8. Your world should always be bigger than one person. I think I forgot that mine was for a little while until the support came rushing in from every direction while I was freaking out and I remembered that I have a whole network of people who love and care about me. 
9. Love is a nuanced, nuanced thing. It has so many layers and components and meanings and strivings. It varies from person to person and situation to situation. There are lots of things that love is. There are also lots of things that love isn't. And I'm still learning the differences, I think. Maybe we all are. 
10. Don't underestimate the benefits that can come from actually talking to someone who hurt you, instead of just festering in your own emotions. Every story has two sides. 
11. Analysis of every tiny detail of a situation is pointless and futile. Analysis of what major mistakes were made and what should have been done differently in those specific instances is an opportunity for growth that should not be overlooked. 
12. It is evidently possible for me to open up to my father under times of complete and total duress. It is also evidently impossible for my mother to let me open up to her during such times. This is unsurprising. Maybe I should be less freely open with my mother and talk to my dad more. 
13. I have no regrets. None. I might even want to change everything I've ever believed about exes and want to try to be friends. And on that note, I will pick a song:

And I'd choose you again...

I'm beginning to realize that "independence" is a myth.

One of the things I pride myself on is being independent, most particularly in the form of being financially independent of my parents, and emotional independence in the idea that I am able to pick up the pieces and put my life back together by myself when it falls apart, even if I usually have awesome people to help me out. My biggest goal for this point in my life is to be, like, a self-sustaining individual, no matter what kind of partnership or arrangement I find myself in. On top of all that, I really really really don't like asking for help. It's a problem I'm actively working on, and I have gotten myself to the point where I realize that I can delegate things to other members of a group without compromising my self-respect, but not to the point where I am comfortable asking my parents for financial help again. It makes me feel like a failure. 

My parents disagree. My dad goes into his, "Maya, your whole life you've never asked me for anything. Finding out what you want for Christmas or your birthday is like pulling teeth. When I was a kid, I always had my hand out asking for this thing or the other thing [...] take this, and if you need more just ask." My mom says "I understand [your need to feel independent], but everyone needs help sometimes. I still have to ask for help sometimes. And this year I managed to put some money away for summer emergencies, so if you need help, just ask." It's strange how, as I get older and begin to start forging my way in the world, my parents somehow seem to be more there for me than ever before. Or maybe I've just begun to appreciate their efforts more.

But right now I'm struggling to figure out a way to even show my dad that I appreciate him this Father's Day, because I have $54.26 in the bank to last me until payday, which is not next Wednesday, as I was led to believe, but the Wednesday after. Which presents ALL SORTS of issues because it means I'll only get my paycheck for my first week of work before the end of the month, on on the first my rent is due and I need to buy my new train pass, and even if I could somehow not buy groceries for the rest of the month (false), my paycheck for one week of work only covers about half of those expenses. BUT my proposal for summer funding from my fellowship was approved on Monday, and should take approximately three weeks, which means $2732.69 will theoretically be direct-deposited into my bank account by the 27th and I'll be fine for the first/ever. 

Theoretically. Hopefully. But what if it's not? I recognize that I can go to my parents if I have to, and they are thankfully right now in a position where they can be of some assistance, but y'all know as well as I do that that's definitely the exception to the general rule. It's just dawning on me that like, independent individuals are still totally dependent on stupid pay schedules and slow offices to get us through life's daily trials and tribulations. Maybe independence isn't a goal I should be trying to meet, rather, I should just try to manage my interdependences in the best possible way.

Moms are so adorably over-protective.

So I moved into my new house in New Brunswick today, and my mom is like, FREAKING OUT. She made sure all the downstairs windows were locked and checked the locks on both doors and tested my doorbell and turned the porch light on when she left at 6pm. She's not comfortable with me living by myself at all. She thinks the grocery stores in my neighborhood are too sketchy for me to shop at by myself, and in my head I'm thinking, if you could have SEEN the places I worked at in Chicago. But alas, it's probably good for both of us that she hasn't.

Anyway, as we were hanging up the phone tonight: "Sleep well, Mom." "I'll tryyyyyyy." *rolls eyes* "Mom, I'll be fineeeee." "What time do you think you'll get up in the morning?" "Why, do you want me to call you as soon as I open my eyes so you know I survived the night?" "YES!"

Moms. You gotta love 'em.

So unlike my dad, my mom always parks and goes in with me when she takes me to the airport. She goes through the line with me and stands with me near the entrance to the security check for as long as she can until it's obviously socially awkward that she's still there and she hugs me one last time and lets me go. I don't call her out on this, because part of me really likes it. 


There's something else she always does, though, while we're waiting in line to check in, or whenever she catches a glimpse of my PUID in my wristlet, or sometimes even if we come across an old picture or something: she sees a photo of me from back when I straightened my hair, and she says some variation of Oh look, there's my daughter. My daughter, with the long straight hair. My daughter, who was ashamed to embrace her own identity and spent the majority of her life trying to be something and someone she was not. My daughter, whose hair used to come out in clumps from all the heat and dangerous chemicals she put on it. Evidently that girl was my mother's daughter, and I am not. And I'm sure she doesn't event think about it when she says it, but a little piece inside me just crumbles whenever she says it. Like the person that girl was and the person I am will never be reconciled into one individual in my mother's eyes. Like she'll always want someone I'll never be again.

And speaking of straight-haired Maya as someone I'll never be again, this reminds me of the one thing that can snap me entirely out of ridiculous stupid not-crush phase with this guy: he has told me to my face that he thinks it's stupid that I have vowed to never straighten again. He thinks one of the things I should embrace about my hair is how versatile it can be. He thinks I should consider straightening it for special occasions or something--AS IF  STRAIGHT HAIR IS MORE SPECIAL THAN MY HAIR, as if I as myself am not special enough for a floor-length gown and a ball. He says I shouldn't feel like I'm conforming if I'm just wearing my hair in another style that looks good on me. I don't even know how to interpret thinking straight hair looks good on me; a) do I still think that?, b) do I think it because I think it or because I've spent my whole life with people telling me that's how my hair should look? Regardless, as much as I enjoy being with him, remembering that can kill any and every inkling of desire I have for something more. This is both relieving and unfortunate.

Conversely, to give some points to my father: When I first sent him a picture of me with my hair natural, he said it was the most ME I've ever looked. This is one of those things that he has said that I will never forget, but in a wonderfully positive way.

Is 20, not 02.

See that picture? Isn't it cute? Awwww it's adorable. But see that little girl? She's LITTLE. She's like 5. And hey, guess what, I'm not. 


Perhaps my father has forgotten this. Or just doesn't want to admit it. But we've had Dad-don't-ask-questions-you-don't-want-to-know-the-answer-to moments about my supersexy Halloween costume and my alcohol habits, and Dad-don't-you-even-go-there moments about boys and things from my childhood I don't want to talk about and other touchy subjects, so I think it's safe to say I've been trying to remind him that I am not a child.


So why, WHY does he insist on doing things we did when I was little? Watching movies I hated the first time around to see if I still hate them (I do). Renting bikes and biking along the boardwalk next to the ocean (which was fun, I must admit). Cleaning, Neosporin-ing, and Band-Aid-ing my wound when I hurt my shin. (Seriously? Neosporin? I haven't put Neosporin on a wound since people actually still put my bandaids on for me.) Giving me old t-shirts of his to sleep in (Uhm I actually have supersexy nighties, kthnx). 


Dad, this is cute, but I AM NOT A CHILD. What happened to last time I visited, when we went on a short cruise and danced at dinner at a nice Italian restaurant? That felt like we were two adults. This doesn't, and I'm sorry but that's not okay.

Dear Parents Everywhere

Why do you even ask questions that start with "You don't mind me asking..."? You know you're wrong. You admitted it yourself. Just do us all a favor and accept your wrongness before the words come out of your mouth. Yes, we mind. It's about time somebody let you know.

My mom thinks I'm a good friend. For some reason, this makes me feel really proud. 

My mom isn't particularly a touchy-feely person like I am. She rarely says really nice things about me like this. I'm really glad she thinks so. I guess it means I'm doing something right, you know?

30 Day Letter Challenge--Day Twenty-Five: To the person you know that is going through the worst of times

Dear Mommy,

I know things are rough financially right now, rougher than we've probably ever experienced. I wish I could be doing more to help. I want you to know, though, that I'm really proud of you for not showing how hard it is. I don't know how you do it, but I can't see any cracks on the surface when I look at you, even though I KNOW they must be running all the way through.

We're gonna make it. I know we will. Can't nobody touch this.


I love you.


Maya

Confession #next: My father just said that phone calls with me are the only ones he looks forward to. I didn't say anything in response. How could I, when phone calls with him feel like one of my least favorite chores?

I hate saying that, but it's the truth. I think it's impossible for me to see his name on the Caller ID without thinking oh, great. And I don't know how to change that. I don't know how to stop dreading having to talk to him. I don't know how to make talking to him something I want to do. I don't really even have faith that there is a way to find. 

I. love. my. father. I just...don't have much to say to him. There's not much going on in my life for the next five weeks. The answer to all his questions is "nothing", and it seems pointless to call him just to say that over and over again. And I don't feel like listening to him try to make everything seem better than it is. He gets on my last damn nerve sometimes, and I just don't want to have to deal with it.

He leaves me in such a bad mood sometimes. *sigh*

30 Day Letter Challenge--Day Three: Your Parents

Dear Mom and Dad,

...This is weird. The whole, thinking about the two of you as a unit thing. I've never really had much occasion to do that before. I'm not sure how much I like it.
I guess that's kind of weird too. I'm sure I did when I was younger, but I can't even remember wanting us to live together as one big happy family. To this day I can't understand how you two were ever together, or how I even exist. I mean, I have exactly 3 photographs of the three of us together in the last 20 years. Like, come on. 
My relationship with each of you has its highs and its lows, and each has its own strong points and its own ISSUES, but I can honestly say that both seem to be improving baby-step by baby-step as time goes on. I hope that pretty soon we'll be able to leave most of the traditional parent-child stuff behind and both consistently behave like adults.
I'm sorry that I sometimes go too long without calling either of you. I don't mean to worry you; life just gets busy sometimes. I'm not sure if you guys know this, but I usually try to call both of you on the same day, so it doesn't seem like I'm favoring one of you over the other. Is that silly?
Daddy, I'm sorry I don't let you ask questions. I'm working on being more forthcoming with you.
Mommy, I'm glad you're finally letting me be independent, but a) I wish you wouldn't worry so much, and b) sometimes I wish you asked more questions. I don't know if I'd answer them, but as much as a rag on Daddy, it's nice to be asked.
Haha, I guess the weirdest thing about our messed-up little family is that my relationships with the two of you are almost mirror images of each other. I guess in a perfect world I'd like to see our relationships come back to the middle a little, but I think that's going to take a lot of growth on all of our parts, so we'll see.
I love you both.

<3,


Maya


PS--Don't go anywhere, okay? I may not be a kid anymore, but that doesn't mean I won't need help, guidance, and an older-wiser-someone-to-lean-on. <3