In which Lambsie hates that her mother can still make her cry, even if she doesn't have the satisfaction of knowing about it.

I don't really want to talk about it, but here's an email to my dad.

"Next time, I will be sure to record my end of the conversation.
My voice remained a relative monotone at a ridiculously low volume and I made damn sure to maintain it because my suitemates are home and these walls are super thin.
I made one tiny slip-up (after she began yelling, in my own defense) when she goaded at me about my "fusing out" every time I go to LEAF and I made quiet mention that it was only when she was there (which was an entirely true statement, albeit unnecessary).
I am getting a hell of a lot better at not taking her bait but sometimes I can't help but try to defend myself against her insults. Trust me, I meditate for a half hour before classes each morning; I'm learning to channel all of my negative energies into activism to bring about positive change. I do yoga and Qigong and have gone temporarily vegan and am finally coming into my independence and, honestly, I'm starting to think has a lot to do with a backlash to her constant belligerence and the strain it puts on me to have to tip-toe around her all the time. I will have no more personal set-backs because of her. But, heaven forbid, I am ego-centric enough to want to defend myself against completely false accusations. I'm used to how she reacts so I do my best not to gratify her nonsensical statements with provoked responses.
My mother mirrors her own irrationality, not mine.

Sorry about all of this.
I love you"

I hate that now, even after all these years, I cry like a stupid little girl when I get angry.