This summer day had a sweet smell to it. A light rain pitter-pattered on the roof and the warm sun shone through the clouds. I was still in bed after sleeping for 12 hours. I laid there for a while and thought about what I would want to do that day. I went upstairs, and saw a beautiful mess of plates at the table previously filled with laughter, crafting supplies on the countertops and a covered meal left in the oven the night before that had been shared with the family. What a joyful mess it was. But it was still a mess. I thought I would just clean later and do what I wanted now.
I knew I should do chores before my mom got home.
Before I laid in bed for two hours.
Before I did a workout.
Before she got violent.
I knew I should have, but I didn’t. I didn’t want her to be mad at me again and I didn’t want her to control me with fear either.
There is a right way to do chores and doing them out of fear and anxiety is not one of them. Messes make people angry. We all would love a house that would stay clean and for everyone to take responsibility, but at what cost?
When we associate chores with someone being angry, we connect the two in our subconscious as chores being something bad. It’s as simple as one plus one equals two. For example, if someone discourages me and tells me to do something, my performance would be worse than if I was encouraged and told to do the same task.
Everyday I go through the same routine of cleaning which leaves me with little free time. There is a lot to do such as a mountain of dishes, decluttering the counter and table then scrubbing them down, tidying the living room and putting everyone’s shoes where they go. I then sweep and mop the floors and clean my bathroom and my room. To save on time I run my laundry in between different chores. My two other siblings do help, but it takes longer to encourage them to help me rather than just doing it myself. The pantry needs to be sorted and cleaned at least once a week and good news, that was today.
I looked at the towering clothes and towels to wash, and the amount of junk that was lying around the house, and it was enough to make someone turn around and do something else. So that’s what I did. I turned around and made myself food and sat on my phone for about an hour. I got up to get started and that’s when I heard my mom come home.
I could tell she was already in a bad mood when she called me to come help her with boxes of food in the car. Some food was already spoiled. Her voice was stern and she hung up on me harshly after I told her I was willing to help her.
When she came inside all she could see was a terrible mess. She turned to me and started commanding me to do dishes, sweep the floor, clean the surfaces and start with making food. All she would notice was how dumb I was.
My heart pounded and I could feel my face turning red. There was a shakiness to my hands as I was trying to scrub off the last bit of grime from the countertops. My mom was standing there pounding me with her hateful words. She called me “lazy” and “stupid” for not doing chores before she got home.
Eventually, I got fed up and stood up for myself. “I am not stupid and I’m not going to let you mentally abuse me like that!” I told her.
Our argument got worse and worse with yelling, pushing and clawing, until finally I ran away. At that moment I felt all of my anger pounding my chest and soon it became a soreness behind my eyes. I ran until my legs hurt and walked until my feet went numb.
It was dark when I arrived home, outside and inside. I did a lot of thinking while I was out and came to the conclusion that I was in the wrong too. Most moms work so hard for their families and I showed no gratitude that day. It’s not OK to yell at your kids that way. It’s also not OK for kids to let their parents do all the work and expect for their parents to just deal with it.
My family was worried for me when I came home and I went to my mom and told her this. I forgave her for how she treated me. She didn’t forgive me and brushed me off, but that’s OK. It still hurts but I worked on it.
Now I know I am not in charge of anyone else’s forgiveness but my own. I know how it feels to be stubborn and I know everyone messes up. I messed up in my own way, as did she. If I want forgiveness I must be willing to forgive other people too.
Even if I was standing up for myself, even if I do chores everyday anyways, I still failed to show gratitude when she really needed it. I can do better and make it a habit to show her that I care for her time. I can forgive my mother and myself. I can break the cycle.
