It is what it is

(This was started 5/31/09) I have been saying "It is what it is". Almost like a rallying cry. Until tonight I didn't stop to think what I was saying. I don't know about other emotionally challenged people, but if you're not careful you will hide a mountain of feelings behind a word, phrase or a look. For example when I was in college I would say, "okay" in response to everything. Now I use okay as a way to give me time to think before I answer. During supervision my college field instructor at the agency advised me that he didn't know if I understood him, agreed or disagreed with him, or if I even was really listening to him. From that point on, I decided to make a conscience effort to respond with something other than ok, because before than I didn't think people really cared what I thought.

Warning: if you know me and you think my mom hung the sun and the moon, stop reading now. Come back another day.

My dad was a smart and industrious man until his alcoholism progressed to the point he wasn't able to run a business. He was in and out of the house. Leaving for a couple of years at one point. My siblings knew this business man who loaned money to men who later became quite wealthy by African American standards. I only knew a caricature of that. A man that other family members found entertaining and laughable. They respected who he had been to my mom's family after my granddad died. But I felt they pitied what he had become. See my mom has 9 siblings, and when the youngest one was still very young my granddad died. The boys in the family were just that boys under 18. My dad was successful at that time, so he was a good support to mom's family. He was even willing to give up the master bedroom in our home when it was decided that my grandmother would come to live with us. He could be in the middle of a tirade and immediately calm down when she came in the room. I am not saying he or my mom were not good people. However, by the time I was old enough to know anything, he was far along in his addiction. The reaction to his actions was that my mom who had been home for my siblings became a full-time and then some working mother. She worked two jobs and for years I bragged about the fact that I got my mom's work ethic. It was what got me through college. I worked 3rd shift at the campus fast food joint, and went to school full-time during the day. In a lot of African American homes this scene played out. So there is a lot invested in denying that this was unhealthy. It happens in homes of various races now thanks to the economy and the large numbers of single parent households. In my situation I know mom had to pay the bills, but I also believe it was a form of escape for her...who can blame her. At home she had an alcoholic husband, an elderly mother, who my mom placed in a position of leadership in her home, even above her husband, and a late in life child. Work is one of the most common excuses for ducking out on being home. I came home to my grandmother, I woke up to my grandmother, I went to bed when I wanted, no one ever checked my homework unless I got wrote up for it and then mom would check it long enough to make sure it was done. I did my own projects or didn't do my projects. I rarely had a plan or prepared ahead of time for projects. No one had a clue about teaching me things like that. Follow through was unheard of. The only time I heard I love you was in the following context, "I discipline you because I love you. If I didn't love you, I'd let you do whatever you want." As a child the hypocrisy of beating a child who was left to her own devices for doing something "wrong" never occurred to me. It was not uncommon for my dad to come home drunk, want something to eat and expect someone to warm up something or fix him something. If he was feeling particularly "kingly" he would demand it or mom would tell me before she went off to work, "warm your dad some... up if he comes in." If I heard him in time, I would turn my tv off and pray he would think I was sleep. Sometimes warming up his food also meant sitting and listening to him go on about whatever. For years I would joke about his conversation. That was the way most of that time was handled. Even now I can find something funny in almost any situation. Ever heard the saying "laugh to keep from crying", worst to keep from feeling betrayed, hurt, unprotected and "freaking" angry.
So what has that got to do with "it is what it is", right? The night I started this post, I was getting ready to roll the trash receptacle to the street. I was putting on my sneakers. I had been out with my friend all evening, and now mom was trying to catch me up on her day. I thought since she knew I wanted to take the trash down she would talk for a short time, but she kept going. I told her I had to roll the trash. She sounded disappointed and I felt guilty. That happens a lot. She follows me to the door or lays in wait in the mornings before I go to work, she comes in the connecting bathroom when I'm in the toilet, etc. She calls me at work to tell me unimportant things and wants to talk until I remind her I'm at work. Basically she wants as much of my attention as she can get. As I walk to the trash receptacle, I think "oh well it is what it is". Then it hits me, "what the heck are you saying and whats the meaning of this bs? I'm pissed by the fact that I'm feeling obligated by cultural pressures, by people who choose how much time and when they spend it with my mom, by religious beliefs taken to the extreme, and my own need to be a "good" daughter, to nurture my mom in her old age. I am angry that I have to arrange time in my day, that I turn down time with my friend, that I have to take this into consideration with jobs I look at, and I'm really angry that I feel that I have to do this. Especially, when you consider that she has friends, other children, a car, funds and the resources to get her socialization needs met UNLIKE me as a child who had no option but to accept being left with others and at the mercy of others. I remember locking myself in the bathroom to keep from being harassed by the boy she bought over to cut the grass. I remember being afraid when a particular relative came because of a violent physical threat he made. She only knows about one of those incidents because I share it with her about 2 years ago. As a child I thought I brought these on myself especially since she trusted them enough to leave me alone with them. I must have done something so I didn't tell her about it. And now this busy woman wants me to do the very thing she wouldn't do for me when I needed it most. It is what it is had become the new millennium version of the early "ok". It was my way of hiding strong negative emotions. My way of avoiding telling someone how unhappy I am with the situation. So now I have to put the phrase on the exile list and explore what I'm feeling and trying to dismiss without feeling or acknowledging. This was a tough post to write and I don't think I'm finished with this subject, but I'm glad to get it on the table.