An Empty Conversation

I really want to start writing uplifting posts about my daughter, but the opportunity just hasn't arisen. I talked to my daughter today, but my heart is even more barren than before. I’ve been calling my daughter at the weekly time, with the assumption that she probably won’t answer, but this week was a bit different. On Monday, I texted to tell her I couldn’t call at the regular time on Tuesday because I was having a colonoscopy and an endoscopy, but if there was a time later in the week, I could call then.

Would you believe she responded? She said she also had a doctor’s appointment for back pain, so Wednesday would work. My initial thought went to the dark side—going to a doctor for pain medication? Oh, god, no. But I tried not to take it any further. She sent one or two snarky texts about the colonoscopy, but I left her hanging on the last one.

My procedure went well, but I don’t feel so great today. I’m tired from yesterday, and I feel a tightness in my chest, probably from the tube in my throat. I worked from home just in case, so it was easy to make that phone call this afternoon.

I wasn’t expecting much, but I called—and she actually answered. She said I woke her up. That's nice--she's sleeping in the middle of the day while the rest of the world is working. I asked if she was drowsy from the medication the doctor gave her, and sure enough, it was. We talked about that, and then it was 11 minutes of basic small talk: she likes her new place, she has a washer and dryer in the apartment, she’s done all her laundry but hasn’t put it away, the weather is cold, she has muscle relaxers that will help within seven days, she’s mostly been sleeping, she doesn’t have a job, she did whatever she could not to miss a concert, and she’s planning to visit her sister this weekend. I don’t know what car she’s driving, or if her sister is aware, but I kept my mouth shut.

Then she just had to lay one on me—I think she likes to shock me and get reaction for at least one thing every time. She said, “Oh, you’d hate my hair.”

“Why?”

“It’s bright red and I shaved it on the top so it’s, like, two or three inches, but long everywhere else.”

So she wouldn't detect my horror, I just asked, “Do you like it?”

“Oh, yes. I really like it.”

“Well, you’re the cosmetologist. As long as you like it . . . .” I almost said, Have you considered going back to cosmo school, but I stopped myself. She only wanted to shock and upset me, and I knew it. This is such immature behavior from a 25-year-old and it repulsed me.

She apologized for being “out of it” lately, and for being so tired today she can’t think. I just said, “OK.” I don't forgive her, so why pretend? She didn’t ask about me at all—nothing. Maybe she forgot? Maybe she simply doesn’t care?

It was kind of agonizing for me to really not be able to say anything at all, so I pretended I had to go back to work and I’d call her next week. She said, “OK, love you.” I couldn’t say it back. Am I a monster? No, I’m just being so careful with every word that comes out of my mouth. Do I love her? Yes, but I can’t stand her right now. I don’t know her, don’t want to know her, don’t want her near me, don’t feel anything other than obligatory love.

It’s very painful to have this weird, strained, unhealthy relationship with a child I love and care about so deeply. I am kind of caught in two worlds—the one where I think she’ll come around if I keep trying and the one where I give up on her for good. I’ve been moving toward the latter, but she sucked me in for a minute. I’m wiped now from an 11-minute conversation that went absolutely nowhere except the toilet. All I gleaned was that she’s unemployed and doing nothing with her time but taking muscle relaxants and shaving her head. 

My daughter is a loser and I'm empty.