Wisdom of the day-no one is making me unhappy but me. I had a few issues lately with my parents over trivial stuff really-basic facts are I want to do X and they think I should do Y. Everyone has an opinion, but what makes ME unhappy is that I want to please them BUT I want to do what I want to do. Sound familiar?
But whose fault is that? I think it's mostly mine. If, for instance, I go with a different carport company than Daddy did, what would happen. He'll think I spent too much money. Then I have to ask myself, "so what?" I doubt I will be disowned for wanting a flat carport-hell, I didn't even get kicked out of the family for wanting to put a portable dryer in my bedroom rather than fix the one that just broke. The thing is-I COULD fix the dryer, but it would still be in the garage and I want the dryer in my bedroom so I don't have to walk to put up clothes. Lazy, yes, but I've gotten really USED to having the dryer and my clothes near each other. I LIKE it.
Ironically, my parents are always saying "why do you care what other people think?" not realizing that they voice more opinions than anyone else on the planet and are not the most tactful people.
Point of fact-I announced that I was going to take riding lessons instead of rushing out to buy a horse (if you can call 47 years a rush). But, the horse I would need now isn't the horse I would want after a year and I KNOW I don't need 2 horses and I'm not really good about letting animals go. Logical of me, isn't it? So my father rears back and says "well, I doubt you can even take lessons right now because you wouldn't be able to get on a horse if you tried."
I was calm with that one. I said "well Daddy, that's why they made mounting blocks...Fat girls have been doing it for years." I didn't point out that my good leg is the leg that I'd be pulling up with anyway-it was more dramatic to make it a fat girl issue.
The tactlessnes has gotten much worse,and it makes me sad, because I know it's age, not a mean streak. I KNOW my parents love me. And for that I am grateful. I am in touch with a lot of people who are dealing with aging parents and are struggling with the "I don't think they ever really loved me...."
It really is the same eternal battles we've had since I firt showed up-but we are fighting them much more quietly now and with less fervor. Because it really doesn't matter where my dryer is, does it?