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Friday, July 15, 2011

Dear Mom

Posted on Fri, Jul 15, 2011 at 10:36 AM

I know you won't ever read this, but I need to vent. I am sick to fucking death of having you push your extreme paranoia on me! Your apocalyptic views on serial killers, rapists, kidnappers, pesticides, carbon monoxide, bed bugs, flea and head lice infestations are driving me fucking mad. You have ZERO boundaries with me and no fucking respect; you just can't ever shut your mouth. I am sick to death of having your paranoid views shoved down my fucking throat every time I call you to chat! You are the worst fucking head trip ever! Do you remember when my new baby was a week old and I took you walking towards the town center through a little graveyard in broad daylight one sunny day at about 2pm; one where you could see clearly from one entrance to another for the complete lack of trees? As we passed a benign looking hipster sipping coffee and reading his book, you hissed at me, "See? You're crazy to take risks like this. He could be anybody!" loud enough for him to look up from his book. I told you not to be silly, that we lived in an extremely safe little town and that anytime I cut through the little graveyard it was in the middle of the day with at least a few people there paying respects, that there were no hiding places, and that I have a good instinct about my safety, having travelled safely through many dangerous countries on my own. You responded with "Whatever. You could be raped! And your baby could be kidnapped!" I told you the world had enough real risks in it without spending your life always looking over your shoulder in fear, to which you replied: "Suit yourself! If you want to put your infant's life in jeopardy, go right ahead!"

Yesterday when I called to chat and told you about our pleasant morning bike ride along the Trans Canada Trail (which is right in town and very frequently used by other cyclists, dog-walkers and lone female joggers), your only interest in the subject was whether there were crowds for me to cycle in; you just couldn't let it go. When I added to you that cycling in crowds is not something I am comfortable with, and that although the path is not Times Square, we are lucky to live in relative safety and security compared to much of the rest of the world, you began yelling at me about some murdered girl (killed by her husband and not a stranger, btw), asking me how I would feel to have my child stolen from me and my head bashed in by a rock while being raped. I hung up on you.

I am so sick of trying to rationalize with you: if you want to live your life in cowering fear of every potential threat, that is YOUR fucking problem and YOUR fucking business. Chalk it up to your OWN personal views of life and realize not everybody shares your sick fear! —I Love You But I Really Can't Stand You

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