Frequently my criteria for getting sucked into other people’s problems is low. It appears my brain has established a mental curve allowing people who ask little of me, more latitude, than people who insist upon nagging the snot out of me, and then there are those who ask little and then proceed nag me once they are receiving the help they desire. Insert squiggly line here representing utter disgusst like one of the Charlie Brown characters might express.
Case in point; while the Mister has been away on a six day work trip, I spent eleven hours in a car so that I could help my mother clean out her wood working shop. Ostensibly, we were supposed to be cleaning out clutter, organizing tools and freeing up space. In reality, we DID organize the tools, but the other goals were merely illusions to falsely motivate me into spending all that time in the car.
In short, I wasted a lot of time, energy and increased my carbon shoe size, on good intentions, totally lacking in intent on her part. I’ve read enough posts recently about ungraciousness, to realize the importance of stating she was grateful and appreciative of the effort, in “her own way”. But anyone who haas been treated like a petulant child with a milk mustache knows, phrases like “in her own way” are simply euphemistic of placing a big, fat “but” into an antagonistic relationship between a parent and an adult child. Animosity with an exponent.
One (as I have many) of my shortcomings in this relationship is the lack of tolerance for extensive criticism. I will quietly endure it to a point, saying nothing and rolling my eyes restraining my tongue. This is effective in the short term, but when required to work together for hours, I graciously allow myself the luxury of snapping and going verbally medieval.
Being berated because I insist one stapler is enough, one jig saw is enough, you don’t need a ball trailer hitch (as the house is flooded with refinished furniture with no buyer), 5 pounds of roofing nails. At one point, I asked why I was there, since we were eliminating so little in waste and excess.
The relentless disapproval forthcoming after I forfeit my time is unacceptable. If I expected to behave like a thirty-something grown-up, then I should be treated like, not the eleven year old hormone stupored pubescent she came home to after rehab. If she has changed and grown, chances are, so have I.
There is nothing more frustrating than being asked for your opinion just to have it utterly rejected every time. gah.
Does your mother have a similar disregard for the advice or opinions of those who aren’t related to her? Maybe you aren’t being singled out for this rudeness. It doesn’t make it any easier to bear, but maybe it makes it a bit less personal, that you aren’t being singled out for this special treatment.
As she isn’t likely to change, is there any way you can find to make the relationship between you two any better? As in, for lack of anything better, avoiding in future these situations that place you on the receiving end of so much of her disapproval? It doesn’t mean you have to lie down and continue to let her treat you this way – but maybe by looking at the way you two interact in a different way, while not necessarily making the relationship better, it might make you feel better for having tried – and make her treatment of you a bit easier to take.
In any case – I’m sorry you had a lousy visit with your mom.
You were there to serve as a mirror back to her of her intentions, not as an individual in your own right.
I hate it when people ask for help, and then reject any input. Brings out the beast in all of us.
Bob, it depends. She is more likely to heed suggestions from men than women. But when it comes to her adult children, she tends to dismiss us like we are still tweens. She is set in her ways. I accepted, years ago, I would never earn much in the way credibility with her because she changed my diapers. It’s harder to deal with on a one on one match up, and much easier when all my siblings are there to diffuse the unwanted criticism. As for taking it quietly…I didn’t.
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meno, that’s me, mirror mirror on the wall.