I'm rather upset right now. I got into it again with my mother, about college and an interview for a volunteer position at the hospital I have to go to tomorrow. I don't really want to talk about the details, because it gets complicated and tedious, but suffice it to say that I still don't understand what my mother wants and expects of me. Everything I say seems like the wrong thing, everything I do seems the wrong thing. I want to go away for college, she asks me why, I say because I want to experience new things, and because I don't want to spend the rest of my life where I am now, she says I'm either a) running away, b) want to go away because I don't know what it's like out there, and c) I can get a perfectly good education at our local community college and something about how she didn't go to sleep-away college and going away to college is over-rated.
I wish I could say that I'm not the same person as she is, and that I have the opportunity to go away and I want to take it, but I'd get in so much trouble. So I settled for asking her if it was a bad thing that I wanted to go away since I have the opportunity, and she said no, and I said so what's the problem, I have the opportunity, and she said maybe that's the problem, I gave you too many opportunities when you were younger and now you feel that you have too many things you can do, and I said is it my fault that I tried to do the best at every opportunity I was given? and then I shut up after that. And cried. A lot. My eyes are so puffy right now, I feel like a horse kicked me in my eyes. :p
Because that's part of the problem. I don't mean to sound like I'm bragging, but school-wise, I'm pretty much acing everything. I love to write, and I love to play music. I'm interested in a lot of different things, and I want to be able to incorporate all of it into my life. But my mother keeps telling me that I can't do everything, and I don't know who to believe, her, or myself. And I think she really doesn't like me doing music because it takes up a lot of my time, and she says it's making me unbalanced and it stresses me out. But ever since I was little, music had been all I wanted to do. One of my life goals when I was younger was to make it into the New York Philharmonic Orchestra.
And here I am, after a lengthy explanation I didn't even want to go through. Whatever. I don't know what to do. I forgot to ask my teachers for my letters of rec (which she blamed on music, by the way, me forgetting), but I plan on doing that when I get back from spring break. She wants me to make up a plan of exactly what I'm going to do from here to applying to college to after college, getting a job and everything. She asked me again what I want to do, and I said I don't know, and that starting a whole new thing, which I really don't want to get into but I am anyway, aren't I. I've asked her one more than one occasion what she thinks I should do, and she always tells me the same thing: accounting, nursing, lawyer, or the ever popular, whatever you do, you'll be good at. I have told her on more than one occasion that I'm not sure, but I have a general direction. Yet here she is, upset with me because I don't know. So I cried. More.
Then I forgot to put the jacket to her nursing uniform in the washing machine, and she got upset with me over that, saying that it's always a problem to do the laundry, she always makes sure that I have a uniform for school, but to wash her uniform is a problem, and that I had an attitude when she asked me to wash her uniform.
I thought I put a whole set in there. Apparently I didn't. It was a mistake. I apologized, and then cried some more.
Then there was the whole thing about how I refused to tell her that my way of de-stressing is by talking to people in my head, but that's a whole new thing I really won't get into.
Or maybe I will. I tried to tell her that my way of staying unstressed is different from hers. I tend to take life on a minute-by-minute basis. Planning things out to see where things might stress me only stresses me out more. If I just take things as they come, I'm fine. I don't stress much on a normal basis. But having my mother constantly telling me I'm stressed, I seem stressed, or I will be stressed in the future--quite frankly, it's stressing me. And so when I told her that I have my own way of dealing with stress, she said that it was by spending ten hours on the computer. I said no, because while spending time on the computer (reading fanfictions, by the way, 
) does help with stress, it's not the main thing I do. And so we went back and forth a couple times, until I said flat out that I couldn't tell her because she wouldn't understand. And she wouldn't. And she got upset, and I said it wasn't just her, I don't talk about it with anyone, because I don't. It's personal. I don't even talk about it with my best friends. People would think I'm crazy if I told them that, yeah, I talk to people in my head on a regular basis, yeah, I know technically I'm just talking to myself, but it makes me feel better so nyeah. Then my mother told me I was being selfish and self-centered by not talking about it, and I stayed silent, because that only confirmed a sneaking suspicion I've been having over the years.
Anyway, I'm getting to the point where I really, really need to talk to someone who'll actually listen and who's not biased on the situation, but I have no one, really. I have asked for a psychiatrist over the years, but my mother keeps saying I don't need one, which kind of upsets me, because she did say when she was getting a divorce that if either one of us (me and my sister) felt like we needed a psychiatrist, to say so. And I have. But whatever. I think that's why I talk to myself a lot of the time. I don't have anyone else, so I make do with who I have. Then there's the argument that she won't and no one else will understand me unless I talk about it. Been there, tried that, doesn't work.
I guess I'll end this by saying that I love my mother, and I know she means the best for me and my sister, but sometimes I think she doesn't understand me as well as she thinks. I know, typical teenage bullshit, but...I don't know. I know I'm not understanding the way she thinks, and I've told her that so many times it feels like an automatic response. I think I've changed, and she doesn't understand the new me, which is probably my fault, since part of that change involving not talking about my emotions. I don't know anymore. The only thing right now I can take refuge in is writing. Which is what I'm about to go do. Peace out.
Oh, yeah. Happy Belated Easter everyone!
Confuzzled and listening to Japanese rap,
Kimi-chan
P.S. Personal shout-out: Happy B-day, Cam!
