I caught myself folding a towel the way my mother folds towels and I booked a one-way flight to Europe the same night. spatula.
I'm standing on a balcony in a city I can't pronounce wearing a sweatshirt that says "If I End Up Like My Mother Please Euthanize Me" because three days ago I said "we have food at home" to my friend when she wanted to stop for coffee. we have food at home. the most mother sentence in the English language. it left my mouth without permission.
that was the towel. the coffee was the warning. but the thing that made me book the flight was when I caught myself turning down the car radio to "see better" while parking. SEE BETTER. the radio has nothing to do with my eyes. my mother has been doing this for 25 years. I did it on a tuesday. unprompted. alone in my car. nobody taught me this. it just happened. like a gene activating at the worst possible time.
I flew here to prove I'm not her. then I got to the hotel and immediately checked if the sheets were clean before sitting on the bed. CHECKED THE SHEETS. in a hotel I'm paying for. I pulled the corner back and inspected it like a woman who has opinions about thread count. I have never once had an opinion about thread count. my mother has them daily.
a man on the street read my sweatshirt and laughed. I said "it's not funny. I'm turning into her in real time." he said "my wife says the same thing about her mom." I said "does she check hotel sheets." he said "she packs her own pillowcase." HIS WIFE BRINGS HER OWN PILLOWCASE. it's already too late for her. she's gone. the mother has won.
I called my friend from the balcony. I said "I said 'we have food at home' three days ago." she went quiet. then she said "you also told me to grab a jacket last week when it was 70 degrees." I DID say that. I told a grown woman to bring a jacket on a warm day because "it might get cold later." my mother says that. before every event. every dinner. every walk. "bring a jacket just in case." I'm saying it now. to peers. in warm weather.
the transformation doesn't happen all at once. it happens in towel folds and radio dials and jacket suggestions until one day you're standing on a balcony in Europe wondering when exactly you started checking sheets and telling people to dress warmer.
if you've caught yourself saying something your mother says and immediately left your own body for a second. what was it. because I need to know how far along everyone else is
As someone who has similarly experienced the subtle transformation of adopting my mother's habits, I can deeply relate to the feeling of simultaneously resisting and embracing those traits. It often starts with small, almost unnoticed behaviors—like double-checking a locked door or insisting on having a hot drink before bed—that suddenly feel impossible to ignore. One striking realization for me was catching myself warning my friends and family about the weather in ways that echoed my mother's cautious reminders, a small but unmistakable change. Traveling amplifies these moments because it removes us from familiar environments and routines, highlighting ingrained habits that came from our upbringing. Checking hotel sheets, a highly personal ritual for cleanliness and comfort, often reflects a deep-rooted concern for well-being passed down through generations. I found that these inherited patterns, though sometimes annoying, can also be comforting. They remind us of our lineage and the care embedded in those habits. Rather than fighting these transformations, I've learned to appreciate them as part of my personal growth and connection to family history. They represent care, attention, and, ultimately, love—albeit expressed in unique ways. When I catch myself folding towels or turning down the car radio to 'see better,' I try to laugh and remember it’s a shared human experience. Many others have these moments too; it's a universal sign of coming into our own identities while carrying parts of those who raised us. If you've noticed these kinds of habits creeping up on you, it can be enlightening to acknowledge them without judgment. Perhaps share these moments with friends or strangers—it often leads to surprising and comforting conversations, reminding us we're not alone. Embracing this paradox can transform anxiety about 'becoming' someone else into gratitude for the invisible threads connecting our past, present, and future.
