Openminded Worlds

I hate it here!

Karmen stood in front of the door frame, trying to be as respectful as possible while she waited for her mother to finish her ridiculous rant. Her heart was pounding in her chest so hard she was starting to fear her heart jumping out of her chest more than her mother. She clenched her fists in the pockets of her hoodie, hiding them out of view. 

Her throat felt like it was under the pressure of a thousand unsaid words; it was as if a lump of dirt had invaded her esophagus and was holding it hostage, leaving her unable to speak for herself. Her eyes felt similarly stiff as she focused on an object closest to her mother, trying to hold back tears. If she looked directly at her mother, she knew she would dissolve into an emotional mess and plunge this situation into a new argument. With a depressing determination, she held tight to her focus on a familiar object in the room, occasionally moving to a new object as her mother paced around. 

I don't care!

The blinds were down. That was the main issue of this argument rounded up. The blinds were down while there were still people in the house who could have and—according to Karmen’s mother—should have been thoughtful enough to pull them up to let light into the house. Even though there was no spoken agreement between any of them that the task would be done indefinitely. But it did seem a little careless to leave them down now that she had been getting yelled at for it for the past twenty minutes. It was so pretty outside. And all of this could have been avoided if she had put them up. Karmen could have thought about the blinds in her bed. She put her own blinds up. 

Karmen or her brother could have been considerate and put the blinds up but what if that sparked a different argument? She briefly entertained the idea to lighten her mood, but soon she could hear her mother screeching about the neighbors staring into their house in that scenario. They probably weren't even home, but her mother tended to believe that someone was always watching, especially if it had happened before to strangers across the world. 

Karmen’s older brother had left to go to his early morning classes already. As a film major, he always made a point to be up bright and early to get all of his things done. Karmen was going to leave as well to go to the library but after a challenging night entertained with the completion of two wordy essays and several biology assessments, she was tired. Her class didn't start until 11 am. She had the time to waste. The inviting comfort of her room called to her, offering a sanctuary where she could rejuvenate her mind and body. She had been in her room ever since.

The one-sided argument, delivered in the form of a lecture, left her baffled.

“Why you just staring at me like that?” Her mother shouted, shocking Karmen out of her mind.

What?

Karmen shifted her gaze from a stray shirt hanging on her mom's bed frame to meet her mother's furious eyes. They looked livid as if they were burning with a hellish intensity meant just for her. Unable to hold back her tears any longer, Karmen mumbled an apology to her mother before sprinting to her room, seeking refuge in her closet. She sunk to the floor and hugged her knees tightly, trying to let the darkness around her drown out her mother’s angry calls for her to return and finish their “conversation.”

Karmen didn't want to feel terrible for something she wasn't even certain she was meant to be doing. She didn't understand why her mother had to scream to get her point across. She didn't exactly comprehend why she was always the target of some type of verbal abuse. 

This was all verbal abuse. Abuse. She understood that but there was no way to stand up to her mother. Especially when she's not even right in the head. 

“I know she has something. I just don't know what.”

Karmen would tell herself sometimes just to make herself remember to not feel too small. Her mother didn't mean to imply that she raised her kids wrong. Maybe whatever she has keeps her from recognizing that people grow up and change. It wasn't her mom’s fault. She couldn't be mad at a person who couldn't even think clearly, even when they made you feel less than human. 

On the bright side, she could avoid her mother and any argument that followed until this word-violent mood died down. So that's exactly what she did. When she finally got to speak with her mother again, it was in the kitchen—the last place they fought—talking to her brother with a smile on her face. It looked like her mother was happy. It looked like her mother was happy with her brother and not with her. 

She contemplated whether or not she wanted to intrude on their conversation. After all, the light in her mother’s eyes slightly faded as she walked in. Maybe she wasn’t wanted in the kitchen. Still, she sucked in a breath to prepare for a continuation of their last interaction with help from her brother’s commentary, but it never came. A laugh soared through the kitchen instead.

The shriveling sound made Karmen question if she were insane. That wasn’t the same person she just got done arguing with over sitting blinds! Was she being gaslighted? Does her mother not remember all the pain she caused? Maybe she doesn’t care. 

Her mother walked up to her and gave her a tight hug with her arms wrapping around her neck. 

Okay. Cool.

“We should all hang out at this place that I heard about y'all!” Her mom said excitedly. 

Karmen and her brother shared a short glance before awkwardly chuckling at their mother. Neither of them had that much time. She knew that but still pressured everyone to take a day off to relax. It’s not as easy as that. But for her mother, it was that easy in her head. It made Karmen think as if she were the problem. 

The curiosity and self-doubt that she held for her mother’s illness grew and grew until one day she finally asked over a text message. She had no idea of knowing what kind of mood her mother would be in that day but her emotions had shoved her into a corner of dangerous possibilities. 

A flood of voice recordings from her mother filled Karmen's phone, each track brimming with an emotional urgency. Her mother explained, with poignant clarity, that she had been diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder, emphasizing that it was not the same as schizophrenia. This distinction weighed heavily on Karmen, instantly igniting a curiosity within her to understand this complex illness better. She knew that gaining insight would help her navigate her mother's unpredictable behavior and avoid unwittingly triggering her.

As Karmen delved deeper into her research, a YouTube video illuminated the nuances of the disorder, describing it as a delicate interplay between the symptoms of schizophrenia and mood disorders like bipolar disorder or depression. Armed with this newfound knowledge, Karmen resolved to embrace a more open-minded approach to her interactions with her mother, determined to foster a supportive environment that would help them both cope more effectively.