Control

Control. A word that can easily be used as an antidote or a poison. The mother has dark hair and light eyes, easily confused with the daughter, many people claim ‘hey! They can be twins’ but if only people knew how different they were. The mother  likes to dress the part of being in control. She dresses for power, Her daughter hears her in the mornings before rushing to work, the “clomp clomp” of her wedges because heels are for women who have lost their way. The mother always adds some personality to her outfits by wearing a professional blouse with a design on it, usually a flower. Oh if only the mother would bloom. There is a new accessory that she wears that is different, other than her steel hoop earrings, its aquamarine; the stone of communication. It seems that is all the mother wants, good solid communication. Someone to ask her, “are you really in control?” The mother comes home and cooks dinner and cleans the kitchen and helps the son with is homework and then goes to bed, but wait.. Who helps her? Something is off about this dynamic in this household. It seems that they all notice, the husband, the daughter, even the son. They try their best to help her but they have heard multiple cries and exclamations of “I got it. I got it. I don’t need help.” When in reality, those familiar cries are a calling FOR the help. It doesn’t seem to make sense, why would you fend off your loved ones who WANT to help you? Don’t you know they love you?? Don’t you know they care? Oh wait.. I see the ‘control..’ Control seeps like tree sap from it’s bark like a poison and oozes out of the mother. The energy that boils within the mother it’s Control. She is blazing with it, I already have seen that look the mother is too far gone. Gosh I wish I can help her. I just want her to see how Control, is CONTROLLING her. Plaguing her thoughts, if only there was a way I could make her see. That is how Control starts, it’s like a possession. Once it possesses someone then close relationships begin to break like brittle bones. The father is upset because everything that he does to help her is not good enough for her. He starts to believe he, himself is not good enough. The son doesn’t quite understand why the mother comes home and takes her frustration out on him, he’s trying to understand his homework and yet, he feels useless. The daughter is taking the biggest hit. She sees, she is aware. She has never felt so distant from her mother, and it’s all thanks to Control. She doesn’t want to be put under that controlling spell. But the daughter loves her mother, and she has no idea how to save her from the one thing that plagues her. Control.