Most of the time, when I write a piece of flash fiction for a photo prompt, I don’t really think about what to write or how the plot and characters should be developed. Most of the time, I just write.
I write a first draft and start trimming away the bits and pieces that are useless or repetitive. But that’s the idea, don’t think, just write, let the words flow onto the paper.
As I walk laps around the park, I thought about a piece I wrote for Friday Fictioneers. That was after my mother managed to fat-shame me with every phrase in the book of fat people insults. I won’t write it here…too…inappropriate.
Phrases – one after another – before we even left home and all the way to the park. I ignored her but deep down inside, I was like that person about to go into the dark and never come out again. When we reached the beginning of the asphalt trail in the park, I slowed down and began to walk at my own pace. She didn’t even look back to see how far behind I was. She just kept walking. As I continued down the trail, I felt like I’m about to burst in tears. I was so angry and hurt because of the things she had just called me. No, I told myself. You will not cry.
To divert my thoughts from tears, I was determined to focus my thoughts on my blog. It was not easy. I clenched my teeth and fists so tight that if someone had sneaked up behind me, I would’ve swung my fist at them. That was how much anger my mother had managed to deposit into my system within those five minutes. I took large deep breaths. Think about something else, I pushed myself. I was already about half-way through my first lap.
I looked at the man building a playhouse for his kids in the backyard and turned away immediately to looked straight ahead again. Then automatically, my thoughts landed on that story.
All the comments popped into my mind like little thought bubbles. Most of them were about readers pointing out what a jerk the guy was to dump the girl in the middle of the park during the freezing winter claiming that she was too cold for him. This was one of those scenario when I didn’t think, I just pulled the image in my head and wrote this ironically humorous tale of a cold-hearted girl getting dumped.
I slowly analyzed the story line-by-line and by the time I finished, I was already about three-quarter of the way through with my first lap. It suddenly hit me. My step faltered slightly and my eyes widened. Oh my gosh! I am the guy and the cold-hearted girl is my mother.
Why couldn’t I see that before?
In the story, there was this line, “You’re just too cold for me.” I have used this line three years ago and it’s become my worst enemy, like a rope that’s dangling over my head ready to strangle me any second.
Three years ago, when she asked me my birthday wish, I told her stupidly that I had wished she wouldn’t be such a cold person. Since then, she had used this line almost every time she had gotten angry. It’s like I’ve surrendered my weapons and now she’s attacking me with my own weapons. “Oh, yeah, you think I’m cold? Then why don’t you just get out of here and support yourself?” That is colder than ice.
For the longest time, I’ve dreamed of standing face-to-face saying Sayounara, I’m moving out but so far, I haven’t got the guts but in my fantasy, I can be as brave as a warrior.
By the end of the second lap, I’ve had most of this post drafted out in my head in one of the rarest circumstances. I had also managed to convince myself. She doesn’t mean it. She’s just aging and hormonal. It’s one of her crazy moods. This is just the way to cope.
I think I actually feel better now though, after letting my words, thoughts, and feelings pour onto the page.
So what if I am overweight and I have a double-chin and my arms and legs resemble sausages. It doesn’t mean you can insult me and bring me down. Who cares because…
This is Another Story 
Your mother sounds like a very hard (and yes, cold!) person. She is wanting to hurt you Yinglan and don’t let her. You said, “I am me and nothing more.” Yes you are. You are something so much more!! Once you can get away from her dysfunctionalism you will find out how much more you are. Some mothers (mine included) doesn’t want to see me do better than her because that would make her feel like a failure. I can’t tell you how much hell my sister and mother have put me through whenever they thought I might have a little “more” or something “better” than they have. Really, they do that – they put me through hell over it. So, the best way you can get back at your mother for being so damn hateful is being that person that is more – much much more than what she is. Be that person – in spite of her. Be stronger than her.
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I’m sorry to always complain about her on here but I just have no one else to turn to but yes, she is a cold cold cold person and she’s making me insane because of the hurtful words she says. I am quite surprised at myself for putting up with it this long without having any sort of effects psychologically. I guess I’m not as weak as I think, huh. Anyway, I want to thank you so much for your encouraging words and I will try to be stronger than her.
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I have noticed that you tend to keep your feelings to yourself and shut inside somewhat and I can understand why after what I have read. It’s good that you are able to talk about it on your blog.
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It is very tough to shut out anger and sadness. So yes, I’m very glad this blog has allowed me to write down my thoughts.
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I know from personal experience that when you try to shut out anger and sadness you end up being depressed – sometimes, severely depressed. That’s not a good thing. Anger is a healthy emotion but not if you can’t express it. Your mother has put you in the position of child in the relationship ( ADULT vs CHILD) rather than (ADULT vs ADULT) (which is the healthier relationship).
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You need to move out. And, preferably, to another state. I had a mother like that. Just plain mean.
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Yeah, I know! I’m thinking Vermont? New Hampshire? Maine? But even then, I think she might find a way to make me crazy.
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I think quite a few of us have critical mothers. I can’t explain why other than perhaps they went through rough stuff with their own mothers. My mother was much harder on me than she was my brothers. I’m much older than you and still trying to figure out who I am. 🙂 It’s a journey and you need to take it one step at a time. A journal is a great way to put down all your feelings, to unburden, and to work things out in your head. You just need to tell yourself you are good, talented, and smart, and you cannot allow or believe negativity from other people. They are projecting their own flaws and issues onto you — it’s not you. Good luck!
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Thank you for your encouraging words.
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I have a juxtaposition for you, Yinglan; my mother died when I was 11 and I have spent most of my life (I am almost 60) dealing with the loss, wishing i had know her better and how that makes me not get close to people because my 11 year old rationale that still drives me is ‘everyone I love leaves me so don’t get involved too deeply, you will get hurt.’ I tell myself that “of course everyone leaves eventually, that is life; it shouldn’t stop you from loving as deeply as you can.” Still not listening to myself, I’m afraid. So my suggestion for you, besides the obvious one of moving out (because eventually you WILL move out) is to find out as much as you can about your mother’s life and how her mother and father treated her and so on (you may already know, but you also may be surprised at what you don’t know). It won’t stop her from being how she is, but it may help you understand and learn a different way of coping with her. Meantime, I have seen your writing improve by leaps and bounds, keep it up! Oh and I am guessing that once you move out, you will lose the weight … if YOU want to.
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Thank you so much for that compliment about my writing. I’ve been working hard and improving my writing in any way I can.
I can tell you, I know just about everything about my mother’s family because she often tell me stories about her childhood and how her dad often got angry for no reason at all. So basically, her entire family has a temper that I cannot stand and it doesn’t really help me a whole lot to find ways to cope since I don’t really have anyone to talk to.
Maybe you’re right, once I move out to be on my own, I’d be able to do whatever I like without constantly worrying that someone’s going to check in on me and then I can do more about my weight then. Until then, I guess I’ll just have to suck it up and convince myself this is life and we don’t always get what we want.
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