Fear of Getting Caught

I got a phone call from my uncle today and seeing his name on the screen literally made me jump. Mom called yesterday and I couldn't listen to the message for hours. Certainly he's calling to see why I haven't called my mother. Or, it's some new horrific shit-storm. People in my family rarely call just to say, "What's up?"

I am 37 years old and seeing a relative's name on my phone screen freaks me out and just the idea of talking on the phone with my mother terrifies me. You know why? This blog. In so many ways, I am rebelling and defying my mother by writing all the horrific truths about our family.

But not really because thus far, Mom doesn't know about the blog. Oprah has yet to discover me (or Dave Eggers ... Did I tell you that I applied to be a volunteer at the Brooklyn Superhero Supply Co.? I did. I can already taste the wine and cheese they'll serve for my party when I'm awarded "Volunteer of the Month".)

Anyway. My mom, to my knowledge, does not know about the blog. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared of the day that she does find it. So much so that when she called yesterday with her vague, "It's your mother. Call me sometime," message, I immediately believed that she had found the blog just like when she found that notebook the night before my senior trip to Panama City. But this time, I've gone way beyond profanity.

And I try to convince myself that it's my story. My story to tell if I want. And I try to be conscious of the line that delineates my story from Mom's story, or my sister's story. And, as I mentioned I am approaching forty. You'd think I'd be over this fear of getting caught. But the thing is, the possible repercussions for my transgressions now are way beyond being grounded for a D in English or having to miss the Aerosmith concert because I got caught drunk. Because the number one rule above all others has always been, "Never Tell."

I've joked for years that my memoir is going to be titled, "Don't Tell Mama, But ..." Every secret I ever heard from a family member started that way. And the secrets went from things like, "we got a new puppy," to "I got another DUI last night." And when each of those situations is treated with the same severity, a kid gets confused about what's okay and what isn't and you just decide everything that isn't done in a church or in front of Grandma herself is up for judgment. And the odds are, you will be judged harshly and punished by being told things like, "You have broken your mother's heart." So you lie. Then you are punished for lying. And then you are punished for pointing out that the Punisher was the one who taught you how to lie in the first place.

Thing is all of the lies are based on shame. Shame for who and what we really are as opposed to the picture we are taught to show those who don't live within our four walls. And really, I am proud of myself and I am proud of my life. I'm not ashamed of who I am anymore.

But, I'm pretty sure Mom is.