A rant about my mother

Some days my mother nags me so incessantly that I wonder if she is doing it on purpose. Like, does she wake up feeling anxious and decide that the best way to deal with that is to rub some off on me? Because that is how it feels. I am just trying to get through each day in one piece without surrendering to truculent feelings of depression but she's making it so difficult!!

This morning I was making myself lunch to bring to camp- peanut butter and jelly on Canadian white, which I have maybe once a week. She goes, "So you're not going for whole wheat bread anymore?" Honestly, I would have rather she just said, "I can't believe you're eating white bread it's junk food." I guess she wanted to keep the tone harmless and off-handed but it sounded more like she was trying to mask some sort of disappointment in me. Like she was really thinking, "I guess Eliza doesn't care about recovery anymore if she isn't eating 100% nutritious food." Also what bugs me is that, first of all, most of my sandwiches ARE on whole wheat bread. Today she just happened to witness an exception. Second of all, people who don't understand eating disorders don't understand that you are SUPPOSED to try and incorporate triggering foods into your diet because it helps overcome irrational beliefs and urges to binge. Anyways, after she said that I lost any and all interest in pb & j so I brought yogurt instead.

At 12:30 after we dismissed the kids she picked me at school. It was already sort of tense when we got in the car but I didn't really know why so I just assumed she was about to remind me about e-mails I needed to send or plans that have to be worked out before I go to Michigan in a couple weeks. She said, "You need to get back to Dr. Nance Roy and have your interview for re-admittance to school in the fall."

I said, "I will."

"I sent you an e-mail about it."

"When?"

"Yesterday. I really don't want to keep having to nag you about it."

"Okay."

"Seriously, you need to get in touch with her or you can't go back to school next year." (Just FYI, this interview isn't really for re-admittance, it's purely a formality and basically just a chance for me to check in with the school about how I'm doing)

I stared out the window and said, "I get it." Another five minutes goes by but somehow I still don't get the feeling that she has said all she's needed to say. So she starts this super awkward conversation about how weird it's going to be that I'm driving back to NY with Aunt Sarah and her more than just a friend John Robbins at the end of the summer. Why would this be weird? We love Aunt Sarah. We love John... well, John returns to England the same day I return to school and my mom thinks I would be in the way if I slept in her apartment on their last night together. Ummm.... EW!? Why? Why bring up the subject of older people doing it? It was literally as if she had run out of things to pick on ME about, so she thought... "Okay, let's bring up the subject of intercourse."

Anyways, a few minutes ago she came into my room and said, "Have you written that e-mail to Nance Roy yet?"

I paused. Sometimes when I'm super annoyed by something someone says I take a moment of silence before responding. That way it gives the other person a chance to realize what an idiot they are. "Yes, I'm writing it right now."

Then she said, "Can I just say something? I feel like I need to get this out in the open." I was so scared. My parents don't like to "get things out in the open," so I knew it must be pretty bad and I immediately started racking my memory for any recent transgressions. Did she find that piece of chewed up gum on the seat in the Prius? The empty ice cream cartons I hid under the sink in the bathroom? It must be something embarrassing and gross if she looks this upset. She walked slowly over to my desk and opened the top drawer, pulled out my make-up bag and holds it up. Whoops.

The moral of the story is: Don't hide cigarettes in your cosmetics purse, because they will ultimately be found the next time someone needs to borrow mascara from you.