Hard

A thing I have realized in therapy, which I guess I knew at an intellectual level already, but hadn’t admitted to myself deep down, is that I love my family very dearly–they are the most important people to me–and I don’t trust them.

And that makes spending time with them a source of great anxiety for me because I’m getting and giving all these cues that say “We all love each other and take care of each other and watch out for each other” but only the first part is always true.

Anyway, my parents are coming on Wednesday for the baby shower on Saturday. I’m a bit concerned about what they think they’re going to get up to on Thursday while I’m at work. They haven’t said anything to me but my brother said that they’re planning on making the Butcher’s room a habitable guest room. Which, you know, I get it.

But you don’t go through someone’s stuff without their permission or without even discussing it with him if you want to have a functional relationship with him. And you don’t fail to discuss it with the owner of the room the stuff is in so that she doesn’t have an opportunity to tell you that’s a dumb thing to do and that you shouldn’t.

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3 thoughts on “Hard

  1. See, that is something I have horrible dreams that I wake up crying from. People coming to my place and ‘fixing’ things. No,just no.

  2. I learned later in life about boundaries. It explained to me why I was so upset when my sister rearranged the furniture in the living room and I was so surprised when I came home.

  3. My mother used to go to her friends’ houses and start rummaging through their cupboards right in front of them. Some people lack boundaries.

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