The source of the conflict was very very simple.
I had planned to changed the bedding and curtains of my room. I already removed the old beddings and placed the new ones on my undone bed. I was reading a novel when my mom appeared to tell my it was my turn for massage.
She babbled asking our helpers for help to clean the room. I thanked the offer, but refused it.
It was my room and responsibility. Two hours later, my massage session was done and I was informed it was lunch time. I decided to visit my room first to get a handband when I was taken off-guard by the sight that greeted me.
My room was immaculately clean!
The beddings were changed. The curtain I selected was changed.
My room was cleaned!
AND I WAS REALLY MAD!
I called my mom and asked her why they cleaned my room, when I specifically told her I was the one who would clean the room. Everytime my mom answer, disrespectful me would replied, "What did I tell you?" in our mother tongue.
I was so upset I stayed inside the room.
The room was immaculate, but deep inside, I was a boiling pot of rage.
I tried to push-ups to make the anger go away. It failed. It was so strong. so heavy, that the only thing I knew best to deal with it....... was to curse out loud.
Now, my mom heard this and barged into my room. She reminded me that I could be heard all the way to the kitchen.
Damn if my voice reached the kitchen. Damn if my neighbors heard me. I was visibly upset. My mom lost her patience and told me if I didn't like the room, then she would just instruct the helpers to remove the beddings.
I didn't want the beddings to be removed. I just wanted to be alone. Alone to deal with my feelings and rage.
My mom left and I just lied down on the bed. I grabbed my notebook and wrote my feelings.
Several hours later, I left my room to have lunch. I had already calmed down then. Eventually, I apologized to my mom.
This event had me thinking.....why was I so mad? Why couldn't I control the rage?
Believe me, I can't recall the last time I reached that boiling point.
I pondered why. What were the circumstances that led me to be that angry?
Here were the facts:
1. I was so excited to change the bedding and curtains.
2. I personally selected the bedding and curtains.
3. I specifically instructed my mom not to touch my room, nor did I want the help of the helpers.
4. Mother did not listen to number 3.
5. I felt robbed of the opportunity to make my room clean.
6. I felt mother did not care enough to listen to my request and broke her word.
What does the act of tidying mean to me?
Take note, I did not grow up having to clean a house. There were always helpers around to do it for me. When I grew up, I realized what a sorry excuse of a human being I was and decided to be responsible.
I decided to occupy my room and promised to be responsible for its cleanliness.
One of the things I actually love is changing the bedding, even if it's tiresome. It's tiresome, yet it brings me a sense of... industry.
Let me tell you this, I have not changed the bed sheets and pillow cases for almost three weeks, naturally I wanted to sleep on something clean and fresh!
Although my mom, in her best intentions, tried to help me and provide me a clean room... I think I felt angry because the work was stolen from me.
Yep. The Work was stolen from me. The act of doing something I wanted to do, was stolen to me.
Not only was it promised to me, but it was stolen.
And I don't like it when someone promises something and doesn't deliver it. I don't like it when someone steals from me.
No wonder I was angry.
But there's more to that, I think.
I'm always reading about Psychology, and there's this concept about "Psychological Projection". Psychological Projection happens when you attribute your hated qualities to another person.
When I refresh my memory, my mother had the intent to help me. I wanted plan A. She couldn't wait for my Plan A and launched Plan B. I got mad because she ignored my plans and decided to go with her own because she thought it was for my own benefit.
Wait, haven't I done what my mother has done too?
No comments:
Post a Comment