The Diary Under The Bed

On the 25th of September, at 11:04 am, my mom Googled my e‑mail address, and found this blog.

She vis­its every day like clock­work; around 8:30 am when she gets into work, and some­times dur­ing lunch around 12:30 pm. Even though I told her nev­er to con­tact me again, she con­tin­ues to check on me.

It’s some­thing I’ve known for a while now.

The exis­tence of this web­site was a secret I kept from my par­ents for as long as I could. I felt like I owed it to them to over­look my child­hood mem­o­ries because they stayed togeth­er for my sake, so I nev­er want­ed them to know this seem­ing­ly unrec­on­ciled side of me. When they told me they were get­ting divorced, I wrote an entry (that’s nev­er been pub­lished) about how I stopped car­ing. It was their turn to start car­ing about me.

Of course, this was only true in the­o­ry.

To be hon­est, I was dev­as­tat­ed. Bronwen likened it to her mom find­ing her diary under her bed, and I tend to agree with the anal­o­gy.

Chinese kids don’t talk to their par­ents about much. Even after being out of touch for a long time, par­ents will only ask whether they have enough mon­ey, whether they’re eat­ing enough, and how their marks are in school, if applic­a­ble.

The dis­cov­ery must have opened a can of worms. This is where I share my prob­lems. My inse­cu­ri­ties. My sex­u­al expe­ri­ences. My past drug use. The bit­ter mem­o­ries of child­hood. On here, I’m no longer the dis­tant son they’ve known for 25 years. I’m open. Naked. Exposed.

Some were sur­prised that my mom would con­tin­ue read­ing my blog, believ­ing the things I say would be too painful for her to read. It makes sense though. This is the only way she can stay close to me.

So I have to ignore the entries in my serv­er logs that con­stant­ly remind me of her pres­ence. I can’t let it affect the only place where I can write unre­strict­ed. I just have to let go, and con­tin­ue writ­ing. Damn the con­se­quence, as some­one once said. There’s noth­ing else I can do. After all, this is a pub­lic jour­nal. I have no right to com­plain about who comes here.

When you let go, you can write about any­thing.

10 comments

  1. Good for you for stick­ing to your space. Damning the con­se­quences is the best route for san­i­ty I’ve come across yet. Secrecy is crush­ing and nerve-wrack­ing.

    I need to jump that hur­dle myself or else I’ll nev­er pub­lish poems lest mom would­n’t under­stand them. Waiting til every­one we know or might speak of is dead and gone is hard­ly a good means or tim­ing of pro­cess­ing one’s life.

  2. My mom checks in on my blog too… unfor­tu­nate­ly, it’s changed the way I main­tain my pres­ence online, it’s not as open and exposed as it used to be.

  3. my par­ents rarely use the inter­net but over the years i’ve also kept my site secret from them delib­er­ate­ly. i rarely talk about fam­i­ly but i would still feel a big “naked” and “exposed”, as you said.

    can’t do that with the sib­lings though… they’re smart enough to guess auto­mat­i­cal­ly from my email address.

    as for your moth­er read­ing this jour­nal… regard­less of the feel­ings you cur­rent­ly have towards her, her vis­its are just an indi­ca­tion that despite how the rela­tion­ship between you and your par­ents has turned out, she will always be inter­est­ed in whats going on in your life. maybe she does­n’t do what you expect her to do and does­n’t behave/act the way you want her to, but she’ll always be there. also, i’m sure you know this too.

    i say let her vis­it and read. it doen­s’t harm you in any way.. so if this makes her feel close, let it be. espe­cial­ly now that you’ve “let go”, you don’t have to hide any­thing either and can con­tin­ue being your­self :)

  4. ok. go and get your moms ip address like get her to sign some­thing like a blog post or some­thing and ban her ip she won’t be able to vis­it.

  5. Are you a moron tony? If you can track peo­ple with serv­er logs, you already knows their ip address, let alone the fact that ban­ning an ip address only stops some­one from a sin­gle loca­tion.

  6. @Pearl — Thanks. You’re absolute­ly right in say­ing that secre­cy is crush­ing and nerve-wrack­ing. It’s not an easy leap to make, but when you do, it’s quite lib­er­at­ing.

    I like the point you make in your last para­graph. It shows a tremen­dous actu­al­iza­tion towards self-improve­ment, some­thing not real­ized by many artists I bet. After all, who’s sup­posed to accept us regard­less of what we do, if not our par­ents?

    @Jason — That’s exact­ly what I’m try­ing to avoid. I’m sur­prised that you care what she thinks, because you told me that you also cut off ties with your par­ents. I’d like to think that I don’t care at all, but I do have to cen­sor myself from the point where I may say some­thing so hurt­ful, though hon­est, that my mom may kill her­self if she read it.

    I was com­pelled to run this post through a few peo­ple before pub­lish­ing. Eventually, I took out two lines that may have been a bit over-the-edge. It was a hap­py medi­um to be able to get the point across with­out wor­ry­ing about my mom going sui­ci­dal.

    @sikander — Many have agreed she will always con­tin­ue to read this. “She’s your moth­er”, they say, and that fact alone is strong enough to make the point. She has always “been there” in her way I sup­pose, although it’s nev­er in a way that I need­ed (finan­cial, not emo­tion­al). You’re right, she prob­a­bly always will be there too, but I no longer want this bond. She’s always hurt me more than she helped me.

    And know­ing that she reads this does hurt me. Her con­tin­ued pres­ence is a reminder of the pain I’ve tried to cut out of my life. I liken it to some­one you don’t want to talk to con­stant­ly call­ing your house. It is pos­si­ble to ignore the ring­ing, but it takes a con­stant, drain­ing ener­gy.

    @tony — I’ve been get­ting a lot of amaz­ing com­ments in the last few weeks, a lot of insight that has brought me per­spec­tive and helped me reflect, but yours was just…ignorance.

  7. I hate to say this after your dis­cus­sion has gone full cir­cle, but in my own life, I found it dan­ger­ous to dis­close any­thing to either of my par­ents, even as an adult. It was my prac­tice to write and dis­close pret­ty much any­thing to any­one else, but they were sim­ply poi­son for any­thing I tried to cre­ate or achieve. It did­n’t mat­ter when I mar­ried, it did­n’t mat­ter when I grad­u­at­ed (no one came to my grad­u­a­tion, even though I was the first woman in my fam­i­ly to do so); they just had a way of killing, devalu­ing the joy of any­thing I accom­plished. So I sim­ply start­ed giv­ing them shiny hap­py fake noth­ings in the way of dis­clo­sure. That seemed to work. They were unable to harm me if they only knew a pleas­ant sham. I did not regret this, even after my moth­er’s death from can­cer. I had giv­en her my best shot; they did not give me theirs.

  8. I have a secret blog site too
    I have my ‘pub­lic’ blog, where all my friends and fam­i­ly can keep abreast of what I’m up to with my kids..
    then I have an anony­mous blog
    much dark­er, raw, total­ly exposed
    that not even my hus­band knows of.

    but what­ev­er you say on your blog, that your mom hap­pens to read, (as per her choice)
    what­ev­er she ‘finds out’ about you
    she’ll still love you, because you’re her son, even if it is a warped and unfu­fill­ing love.

    or
    she can use it to tor­ture her­self with
    haha­ha­ha

    won­der what she thought about your entry regard­ing her clean­ing out your freez­er with all the ‘herb’

    tee­hee

    cheers,
    from the best place on Earth

  9. you are tru­ly brave for doing this jeff, and i think you are com­plete­ly right.
    if she wants to read, then she can. but it should­n’t mean any­thing to you.
    cheers.

  10. @Xibee — I used to do what you did, remain dis­tant yet polite. The dif­fer­ence is that I don’t know if my par­ents gave it their best shot. Perhaps they did­n’t know how to love a son any oth­er way. I per­son­al­ly don’t think it mat­ters because, in the end, I was very hurt nonethe­less.

    And you’re right, giv­ing it your best shot is the best way to have no regrets.

    @Amy — I’ve always thought about a secret blog. I used to have pass­word pro­tect­ed entries actu­al­ly, but I thought that it ruined the point of hav­ing some­thing pub­lic on the inter­net that could­n’t be read. I may get to that point again one day though.

    I can’t believe that not even your hus­band knows though. If I was ever to mar­ry some­one, I’d like to think that they would be able to accept all my crazy thoughts and emo­tions.

    @kiddo — Thanks. I remem­ber what hap­pened when your dad found out about your blog so I imag­ine that you know very well how I feel about this.

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