As most of us know, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, and expecting a different result.
I’m a slow learner. I will probably die continuing to make this mistake. But, when it comes to what information I share with my mother, I think I have finally learned the lesson of discretion. A word which I keep thinking she knows the definition of, but then my confidences come back to bite me in the ass.
As one did yesterday, amid a gathering of aunts, uncles and a cousin. My mother freely spewed a tidbit which was inaccurate, and when I denied the literal version of what she felt was her right to share, she got mad, argued with me, and then made some lame attempt to say that it was my fault because she didn’t understand what I was telling her. This is a problem which extends beyond my mother, but I’m taking baby steps here.
My mother, whom I love dearly, lives in her own little reality of what she knows and her need to share it with the world. I sometimes resent her for this.
However, it’s a fact of her existence which I must come to accept.
Sorry Mom. I love you but from now on we will be sticking to the weather.