Transparent Tuesdays

Issue 204

You guys,

Have you ever known you were in the middle of a massive, meaningful moment?

My mom, for the first time in my life, had just told me—directly—that I had hurt her feelings. I was so aware that something big was happening that it felt like I was already past the moment and reflecting on its meaning.

Three days earlier she said over the phone, “You’re coming for Easter, right?” 

We were not coming for Easter. I apologized and explained until things got awkward and she finally said, “Okay.”

Later that night I sent a picture of my kids to our family text thread. No one responded with the usual, “Adorable!” or “Too cute!” I imagined my mom and dad and sisters sitting around on their chairs and couches, drinking their martinis and talking about how horrible Sam and I were for not prioritizing a trip to New Jersey for Easter. 

For the next two days I was distracted by these thoughts. I told myself this was their problem, not my problem (I’ve read The Courage To Be Disliked… I know it’s not my task), but every time Sam asked, “What’s wrong?” all I could say was that I was still thinking about the stuff with my mom. 

On the third day my mom called. I was surprised when I saw her name pop up and immediately answered. I expected her to say something completely unrelated to our last conversation, like a question about the kids’ shoe sizes or what kind of grill we have, but instead she said, “Hey…Well I wanted to tell you before you heard it from someone else that the other day when you said you weren’t coming for Easter it really hurt my feelings. And I was so upset and disappointed that I couldn’t even say anything to you on the phone.” 

It took a few seconds to compose myself—I could hardly believe what was happening—but I still cried as I spoke (which at this point is how I know I’m inside a hard conversation), “Thank you for telling me. I knew you were upset but it just really means a lot for you to tell me.” 

She went on to say that she understood why we weren’t coming but she needed me to understand why she was so upset. She went through her list of reasons, which were completely understandable, and I listened. 

Then she said that unfortunately, all of my sisters were in the house at the tail-end of our phone conversation, so they all witnessed my mom in reaction mode to the news, and all became defensive and protective of her. 

I said, “So they’re all pissed at me,” and she said, “Yea, but they’re not really pissed at you.” 

This was the worst case scenario I thought would happen, but hearing my mom tell me the exact details, it barely bothered me now because my mom and I were okay. There was nothing left unsaid. 

Shortly after my mom and sisters let loose their anger about my not coming, my older sister Alexis did something to hurt my mom’s feelings, although my mom didn’t think Alexis even realized. Mom said that after the fact, she couldn’t tell Alexis that she hurt her feelings because “Alexis would lose it.” 

Something had shifted between us. Mom suddenly could tell me that I hurt her feelings, when in the past she never had. 

As we neared the end of our conversation I told my mom again how much I appreciated her calling. She said no problem. 

“But mark your calendars next year for Easter,” she added with a laugh. “Easter’s mine.”

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Bleecker Bombs

A new podcast episode is out!

I read Lost & Found by Kathryn Schulz and geeked out on granular ways to make your writing beautiful. (There’s also an update on my memoir at the end!)

Listen to the episode on overcast.fm, Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or Google Podcasts.

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Until next week,

Charlie