Undone
by Melissa Mirza, © 2006
“Who do you need, who do you love, when you come undone….” -Duran Duran
The one person who I build my strength from is also the one person who can break me down with a single blow. Thousands of miles do not soften the words exchanged between us. When I'm on the defensive, my guard is up but my courage is met and matched. Its only when my vulnerability is exposed completely do I begin to feel some form of retreat on the other end.
Difficult doesn't even begin to describe my mother. She's more than relentless, challenging every aspect of my life. Still recovering from my decision to forsake law school for writing, she ceases every opportunity to remind me of the rough, unpaved path before me. For two weeks in May, I was staying at a hotel in Costa Mesa because my slightly less than perfect Santa Ana apartment was infested with cockroaches of unearthly proportions. On top of the presence of our unwanted pets, my roommate's car had been broken into that same week even while parked within our gated community. Searching for sympathy, I called home. Most mothers (or at least the ones on NBC sitcoms, Hallmark card commercials and Judy Bloom books) have that instinct to protect their child from the evils of the world around them and that instinct is reflected in their compassion. My mother is of a very different breed however.
After listening to me feeling sorry for myself, she responds, “Welcome to the real world, Melissa. You want to be a writer? Then get used to a life of challenges because money is not going to come easy in your profession. If you wanted things to be easier then you should have been a lawyer.” I instantly regretted my initial approach of playing the role of victim. Knowing how to pick my battles with her, I squash my original pursuit of hearing the words, “It's alright baby, it'll be ok,” ignore her comment on my career choice and ask for advice on how to handle the situation. My mom is not devoid of maternal instinct; it's just that her way of protecting me is by arming me with knowledge of the real world so that I may defend myself in times of crisis.
My phone call of compassion did come the next day however….from my father. More than being concerned with my safety and well-being, my father's top priority when it comes to his children is our happiness. I can never seem to disappoint or upset him because no matter what my end decision is, as long as it will make me happy, he will support it to the fullest. This was true when I declared English instead of Economics as my major, continued at UC Irvine for a 5th year for leadership reasons rather than academic, broke up with my long term boyfriend because I was better off on my own than in an unhealthy relationship, moved back to Orange County in January despite the fact that I'd have to support myself financially whereas I wouldn't have that burden at home in North Carolina, and finally scraped stable future plans for law school to pursue a much more volatile dream of writing. Through it all, my dad has always backed me up and nurtured the dreamer in me.
My father cradles me in idealism while my mother throws harsh reality at me. It's a balancing act that at times seems tipped too far on the critical end. On one of my many late work nights, I was alone in Dean of Students Office on campus when my mom called. The summer was coming to an end and she wanted to know if I had given more thought to the possibility of moving home after my lease for my apartment was up in October. My decision to stay was yet another addition to this year's list of actions against her wishes.
She goes into attack mode right away, “You cannot waste another year without moving towards a future goal!! You're 24. You're not a child anymore. I need to know that you have direction and that you're working towards it…” She continues on this road, pushing me to pursue a graduate degree because I'm not going to be able to find a decent paying job and save any money with a BA alone. If I moved home, then at least I could focus on applying for grad school without having to worry about supporting myself and still work part time and be able to save some money. I remind her how miserable and lonely I was at home because I don't know anyone there and that if I'm happier in California and able to support myself then she should respect my wishes and back off me. Using social reasons as a justification opened up another avenue of assault for her. She questions my priorities and the conversation takes a temporary shift to my outlook on dating.
My parents don't understand the concept of dating. Their cultural background and experience dictate that when you meet someone you like enough to be in a relationship with then that relationship should lead to marriage. Everything else is not only a waste of time, but a stain on my name and reputation. At 24, my mother was already married with two kids and yet here I am at 24, child-less and husband-less, with my mother's anxiety about me settling down growing everyday. She sees my singlehood as a problem that lies in me, caused by a combination of my stubbornness, my independence and my inability to see the importance of the bigger picture such as coming from a good family and being able to support me. When we first had this conversation in December, I couldn't take her seriously because it seemed premature to the point of ridiculousness. Months later however, I realized her concerns were real and I had to address them as such.
Already a veteran of similar battles, I dig into my defensive chest and come out with some impressive armor. I tell her that today in the US, 24 is not “old maid” status and assure her it's by choice that I'm single and not due to a lack of suitors. While I didn't have a boyfriend, I have dated other guys because dating is the only way to get to know someone to see if they're compatible enough to lead to something more serious. I then remind her that I did have a boyfriend that met her qualifications of a good family background and a dependable financial future but that he also came with more baggage than I could handle and asked her what price she was willing to let me pay in order for me to be “taken care of” in her eyes. Moreover, switching back to defending my professional future, I didn't need nor did I want to be taken care of! I wanted my independence and whoever I was with had to respect that. Heated now, I was tired of vindicating my dream of being a writer. “Why can't you just be supportive for once!” I yell at her, taking her constant attacks as lack of faith in my talent.
“Honey, its not about how talented you are,” she retorts. “This is about you being realistic. Anyone can say that they want to write, or act, or dance and sing. That doesn't mean that they'll make it.” Now she goes in for the kill, “Don't you remember how your father and I struggled when you were little? Do you really want to go through that? We worked so hard to give you more opportunities than we had and I don't want to see you throw them away.”
Her words had succeeded in wounding me. I didn't need to be reminded of the one bedroom apartment in Queens, New York that the five of us shared while I was growing up. I was fully aware of all that my parents had sacrificed for each other and for their children. I know my mom left a very comfortable life in Turkey to be with my father who had nothing and I saw them turn that nothingness into more than that little Catholic school girl growing up in Queens could ever have hoped for. At 16, when my older brother left for college, knowing that I was soon to follow, my parents gave up four years of their marriage so that my father could take an amazing job opportunity in Thailand and afford to support all of us here. Her reference to those sacrifices was in response to my tone in addressing her and I immediately regretted that display of disrespect and lack of appreciation for all that she's done for me.
“I do have direction,” I affirmed in a voice that revealed vulnerability rather than anger. “I am planning on going to graduate school for writing and if I stay here and continue to work at UCI, I can take grad level courses at a 50% discount. After one year of full time employment, I qualify to have two thirds of my tuition and fees paid for if I get accepted into a master's program here. Even if I don't get in at UCI, at the very least I still would have been able to take some classes and obtain letters of recommendation from UCI's highly acclaimed graduate writing professors that can help me get into another program somewhere else. I'm not wasting my life here mom. I have a plan. I just need you to believe in me.” The pause at the other end of the line indicates to me that she can hear the tears in my voice. But it's not my tears that fight off her ambush. It's what they represent: drive, passion, ambition.
After bringing me to the threshold of my breaking point, my mother swiftly retreats and begins the process of building me up again. It's a process I'm quite familiar with because it's made me into the person I am today. While at times, it may seem as if she's coming down too hard on me, I know that her intentions are driven by her belief in my potential. Her refusal to baby me and to challenge me at every turn gives me the push I need to actively pursue my goals and have confidence in what I'm doing. While she may not initially agree with my decisions, she at least respects that they are my decisions to make.
“Thank you,” she sighs, “all I wanted to hear is your motivation.” Crying even harder now because it's the first time I've left this particular battlefield as the victor, she tells me in a very reassuring voice, “It's alright baby, it'll be ok.”
THE END
With one foot in LA and the other in Orange County, a heart that bleeds New York, eyes which twinkle from Parisian lights, skin tan from the Thai sun and roots in Turkey and Lebanon, I'm from no where and everywhere. I find a home in every word I write, photo I take, meal I cook, friend I make and family I love. I seek simplicity yet crave complexity. Perhaps I create the paradox just to satisfy my own analytical self. As long as I keep the dreamer in me alive and well, I know she'll keep pushing me through all the ups and downs that lay ahead.
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