My mother keeps silence

Couple of months ago I decided to make a film about my mother. Every day now Ive been following her with and without my camera.
Sometimes she remids me Jean Delmann from 1080 Bruxelles living inside some of Lynch like “perfect American suburb” where nothing than surreal happens. Every single routime of hers is extremely predictable to me. Nothing is happening, I havent managed to get any interesting dialogues, nothing changes.they have taught us that the main character is supposed to change, no?

In addition I expirience a bunch of anger when she orders me boxes of useless food supplements and vitamins saying that Im too fat and “not in the mood”, then some day I find that inside the drawer right next to her bed there is an Icon and the tag that I was given in a hospital when I was born. And then I cry. She sits in a garden and drinks her tea from a mug with my picture on it. This mug was given to me from her 10 years ago and has some fancy sparkling roses photoshoped with my pic next to a christmas tree. 

Why didnt I ever use this mug? the print has deemed What if I don’t love my mother at all now when I am an adult? Do I have a right not to love her? I left home 10 years ago and coming back now I feel like we dont share any common values or interests. There is nothing we could really talk about like I do with my friends and at the moments of anger I dont feel like I need her at all, in fact I only wanna push her further; cause all she is as it seems to me are the attempts to cancel the eternal anxiety with endless and useless garden and house routines. 

 “Mom, all I wanna do is for you to get to know yourself better and live your own life with joy and responsibility only for yourself."- is what I am thinking but never saying. Is it setting up borders or trying to save her? “

Ah.now we are so nicely laying on bed, she is ordering me these damn vitamins and could be so cool to set up the camera right there and just record”…but I cant. I pretend to sleep, yelling at my mom inside my head for her eternal attempts to fix me. At the beginning of the idea I expected that camera would bring me closer to my mom, 

“I wanna make a film about love”, I would be able to conceptualize her as a separacte human being and start loving her as an adult. Starting from empathy, wishing to ask her all the questions Ive never asked her before, dong the “mother-daughter” talk, now I feel like sometimes I am so angry at her I cant even look at the camera. 

Thoughts of how I would say her this and that, putting all the arguments into a nice logical list, are rolling in my head and not letting anything happen: neither my words, neither a story.

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