The last meaningful argument I had with my mother was about me moving to Berlin.
I had been approached about a job at a major brand and if I got the role, there was a juicy relocation package attached. At the time, my husband was in prison and I was functioning as a single parent, doing a bit of freelance writing here and there and on a zero-hour contract with a social media agency. That's all to say, I didn't have much going for me – but I was writing a book!
My mother was excited for me/us, because of course she would move with me! And Berlin was tempting, but I didn't want to go. I knew that, despite all best intentions, moving would be putting a pause on my marriage (and let’s be honest, there is no ‘pausing’ a relationship, that's just a softer exit) and I wouldn’t finish writing the book. But try explaining that to a woman who had worked in blue chip companies in Luxembourg, Switzerland and Germany until the recession and her health got in the way. Instead I told her that Berlin was not where I saw my life going.