I don’t even want to call it the lockdown anymore, it’s increasingly clear to me that “normal” life isn’t going to resume for a very long time, to survive which one will have to dig deep and get stronger everyday.
Where does one begin to record the mess which everyday has descended into?
My husband got a 30% salary cut, which though not crippling in itself, is unpleasant news and it has of course spiraled him into pissed off land, all of which results in more stewing and snapping at me, at the kids, at my mom. On and on it goes. He does so little at home, the entitled prick, he refuses to engage in any discussions on fair split on work and it is the same insufferable attitude, which only translates into you do it because you have to, housework is not something I will ever do. I am so angry, how will I ever let this go, am theoretically now increasingly worried about how we are unable to find things to be happy about and what it bodes for the rest of our life together. Because the presumption is that one will laugh it all off as a blip, not hold on to those grudges, but yeah, I don’t really see that happening.
I love my kids though as does everyone else. Maybe I should tell myself that that is all I am getting and that it should be all I focus on. My daughter is getting strung out too, largely through the involvement of my mum, more on which below.
My mum.
I have tried so many times to let things go, to keep a notional peace. What exactly is getting her so mad. That my husband is beneath her in some way (reference India’s caste system and my mom’s astonishing belief in some retarded notions) and if not, that he is an ass and a half (no denying that), watching while she does the work around the house. That she is locked down here with us, in our teeny Mumbai home, having to look after us, while she could have been in her home, in peace, with my brother for company. That the kids surround her all day, interrupting her constantly and we space out, because we can for those moments. That she has to adjust to everything here, while we stay in our home and on paper, have it exactly as we like. That we are smug bastards and she has limited sympathy or affection for us? Or that the lockdown is getting to her, like it is to many people and that’s it.
But there is so much horribleness it reduces me to tears. I feel inadequate because I seem to be married to the wrong person. I feel apologetic because inspite of so much which is wrong, the kids are brilliant. She sulks about how I have to work – yes, this is what work is like for lawyers in these jobs – I don’t have the head space to debate whether it is necessary or critical, given how the economy is going to go, jobs and holding on to them is critical. And why does there have to be such a strong opinion on this – why discussions, why calls, why work at night, why on holidays, why at this time. Can you cook or do you need to work – I need to do both everyday and because everyday is so hard, stop making it worse by suggesting that working like this is pointless. The random obsession with cleanliness – rather than spend that wretched 30 mins on a book or with the kids, there will be mopping and dusting and towels to be washed and bizarre scrubbings and really, it is just stressful, because whatever my mom may say, watching your old mum do it just makes me feel like a little shit and correspondingly, under pressure to take over.
The inputs on the cooking, the weird satisfaction when I mess something up, like I have put you in your place, the useless insistence on following some rules, I don’t care, this is not my priority and it will not be – the food doesn’t have to be perfect, and honestly, it’s been fine, good even, so why get into the little inputs on how to be better.
I know my mum is just old and this is a fight or an insistence to be taken seriously and stay relevant, but it is so hard right now, does she really not get that backing down is kinder, even when she sees me blinking back the tears or having the meltdowns. And worse, she was my cool, smart, independent mum, who seems to have just lost it totally. She will leave us someday and what will I think when I read this?
Why are my brothers more deserving of sympathy or affection than I am? Because they are less tough, less successful and some scales have to be balanced? The most unpleasant part of me believes, that while that may add to the irritation quotient, it is just because she loves her sons more. Or because my dad was my champion and he isn’t around anymore. Also to myself – what rubbish to say and write. Since I think it, I will leave it here, with this caveat, to hold yourself to some standards and stop.thinking.like.this.
And the constant nonsense about the parenting, what we are doing wrong, the comparisons with the cousins, the comparison with the sister in law and brother, the need to do what they are doing it drives me up the wall. Parenting was different 30 years ago and no, I don’t agree, kids don’t need to be toughened up, or ignored or mistreated, and certainly not by jibes and jokes about their most vulnerable parts. She gets into arguments about why we are not doing what she did or what my brother does, why the kids don’t get whatever junk food they want, why they don’t get yelled at more, why their feelings are taken seriously. It’s the one thing which makes me viciously angry.
Whew.
When will one see a way out of this? Whatever else the lockdown does or does not do, it will likely impair my relationship with my mum forever. It has been too long, I am too tired now to be good. Be that as it may, it is to myself I turn again. Even though it seems a lonely road ahead, it doesn’t have to be a sad one.
And oh yes, I have to lose weight, so that once I am thin, I can eat whatever I want in front of my mum. So there!
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