Traveling Anxiety

I’ve always hated vacations. But the horror stories never happened during the vacation. They happened before.

First of all, I should say that I love my mother. I love my mother dearly. That being said, she presents a whole other level for clean freaks. She worked a full-time job as a teacher, and then she would come home and clean the entire house. Even when I moved into my own place, she would visit and the first thing she would do before sitting down would be hand washing all of the dishes that were in the sink.

When it was time for family vacations, her cleanly nature was amplified like a train racing down the tracks with the horn blaring. I would wake up and walk out into the kitchen, only to find my mother there scrubbing down the dishes and bleaching the oven.

Then she would turn to me and say, “Do you know what time it is?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“It’s 9:00 in the morning! You and your sisters were supposed to be ready to go by 9:30!” And it’s true. She would say the night before that she wanted to leave at a certain time in the morning. It must have been difficult marrying a procrastinator and giving birth to more of them.

“Are you packed?” she asked?

“I think so–“

“Make sure you have everything.” Then, year after year, this question would come up. If not answered correctly, all hell would break loose.

“Is your room clean?”

“Um… no?” I never did learn how to lie.

“Well, you’ll need to clean your room right now,” she said, her face turning a little more red with each passing second.

“Do I have to?” I also never knew when to keep my mouth shut.

The following is not what really happened. It is merely the point of view I had as a child. This should be clear as I say that in my mind, my mother turned into a dragon, screeching high and fire spewing from her mouth.

“CLEAN ROOM! CLEAN ROOM!” the dragon roared. Terrified, I would run into my room and start cleaning. Or at least what a child perceives as cleaning, which is basically pushing everything under the bed. I made the bed and packed my things, and I would hear the dragon who was once my mother walking down the hall. I can still hear her imaginary tail swishing back and forth against the floor.

I walked out of my room with multiple bags. I got bored easily as a child and wanted to make sure I had some options. The cleaning dragon stopped sweeping and lurched its way over to me.

“WHAT THIS?” the dragon asked, when in reality it was my mother scowling at me because my baggage would take up too much car space.

“This is my stuff,” I said timidly.

“ONE BACKPACK, ONE SUITCASE! ONE BACKPACK, ONE SUITCASE!” the dragon screeched. It then turned and went back to sweeping. Wide-eyed, I chose what I wanted to take out of the hoards of luggage, listening to the sound of sweeping, followed by a brief pause and the roar of the vacuum cleaner.

My sisters and my father dealt with the cleaning dragon in different ways, but I think my father and my older sister saw the reality while myself and my little sister were more prone to wild imaginations. Eventually, everyone was packed, the house was clean, and everyone got in the car and drove away.

And the dragon? It fell asleep in the car, and it returned to my mother’s form by the time we reached our destination.

I grew up and saw my mother no longer as a dragon, but very intense and focused about getting everything cleaned up to the point of anxiety. So the funny thing was that she would start her vacation as extremely stressed, and then she would be somewhat relaxed during the actual vacation part. “Isn’t this so much fun?” she’d say, skipping about in her bathing suit and sarong-like cover. “Oh, honey, it’s so fun out here! Let’s go to this restaurant for lunch and then we can go to the pool or whatever water source is available! “

I understand it now, but as a child I was mortified. I wondered, Who is this person? Is my mom like a werewolf or something? After years of practice, I learned how to hide everything in the closet and make everything looking nice and neat. I figured that if I couldn’t lie with words, I should at least lie by keep up appearances.

Many years have passed, and I’m much older now. I rarely go on vacations. But as I grow older, I have felt this strange urge to clean. And it is becoming stronger and stronger.

I know now that the monster–the cleaning dragon–is inside of me. And it is waiting for its road trip moment.


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