Family woes
Today, Dear Ole Mum dropped off a bagful of possibly-me-shaped clothing, some with the store tags still on, to megpie71 while I was at work.
As soon as I got home, I picked up the bag, walked it back over to her house, and returned it, contents sight unseen.
On the face of it, this could be seen as a really horrible thing to do.
But ah, you do not know the background.
D.O.M. is what I like to refer to as a Pathological Control Freak. She falls very neatly into the stereotype of a Capricorn, for those into astrology. She likes controlling her environment. She likes controlling other people's environments. She especially likes controlling other people.
This isn't necessarily a bad trait. She made a very successful career as a primary school teacher, albeit one where she would be in charge of any school-wide activity, any extracurricular activity, and such episodes as writing to a new Education Minister to tell said Minister how she should be doing her job.
I, on the other hand, have fallen very neatly into the stereotype of a Gemini for about the past twenty years or more. Amongst other things, I really, REALLY do not like other people attempting to control me, confine me, or dictate to me. Present me with the facts, offer me choices, but please, PLEASE do not micromanage me, pimp me out without my knowledge, or presume to tell me, uninvited, that I will now be doing a certain thing a certain way. Such things lead to stubbornness, bad blood, and retribution.
(The major reason I originally left home was because D.O.M. used to consistantly and deliberately wake me up five minutes before my alarm went off. Drove me up the fucking wall. Looking back, it was probably just another way to control me.)
Back to the original story. So she drops off the clothing at a time she knew I would not be there, knowing that megpie71, sensibly not wanting to get involved in family politics, would not tell her to take the bag and hop it. Then she tries the usual second-hand control effort of getting someone else to push her agenda.
No.
Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. And there is no way in the Nine Hundred Hells that I will let her imagine, even for a single day, that manipulating megpie71 will get her what she wants, which is control over me now that I'm back in town.
Come to think of it, I should hash this out with her. Again. With family present (although about the only opinion she wouldn't deafen herself to is her father's). Despite the fact that repeated attempts to communicate this problem over the last few decades have fallen on deaf ears. I should make it plain that while trying to control me is irritating, attempting to do so through my nearest and dearest is grounds for excommunication.
As soon as I got home, I picked up the bag, walked it back over to her house, and returned it, contents sight unseen.
On the face of it, this could be seen as a really horrible thing to do.
But ah, you do not know the background.
D.O.M. is what I like to refer to as a Pathological Control Freak. She falls very neatly into the stereotype of a Capricorn, for those into astrology. She likes controlling her environment. She likes controlling other people's environments. She especially likes controlling other people.
This isn't necessarily a bad trait. She made a very successful career as a primary school teacher, albeit one where she would be in charge of any school-wide activity, any extracurricular activity, and such episodes as writing to a new Education Minister to tell said Minister how she should be doing her job.
I, on the other hand, have fallen very neatly into the stereotype of a Gemini for about the past twenty years or more. Amongst other things, I really, REALLY do not like other people attempting to control me, confine me, or dictate to me. Present me with the facts, offer me choices, but please, PLEASE do not micromanage me, pimp me out without my knowledge, or presume to tell me, uninvited, that I will now be doing a certain thing a certain way. Such things lead to stubbornness, bad blood, and retribution.
(The major reason I originally left home was because D.O.M. used to consistantly and deliberately wake me up five minutes before my alarm went off. Drove me up the fucking wall. Looking back, it was probably just another way to control me.)
Back to the original story. So she drops off the clothing at a time she knew I would not be there, knowing that megpie71, sensibly not wanting to get involved in family politics, would not tell her to take the bag and hop it. Then she tries the usual second-hand control effort of getting someone else to push her agenda.
No.
Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. And there is no way in the Nine Hundred Hells that I will let her imagine, even for a single day, that manipulating megpie71 will get her what she wants, which is control over me now that I'm back in town.
Come to think of it, I should hash this out with her. Again. With family present (although about the only opinion she wouldn't deafen herself to is her father's). Despite the fact that repeated attempts to communicate this problem over the last few decades have fallen on deaf ears. I should make it plain that while trying to control me is irritating, attempting to do so through my nearest and dearest is grounds for excommunication.