Posted by: Judy | November 1, 2011

The insanity of living with Ns….

My NM complains of asthma, and yet brags that she has the lungs of a 40-year-old. (She’s more than twice that.) A nice brag, except that it doesn’t make any logical sense. She laments that she always has an asthma attack when the west door is open after four in the afternoon. A little background information: She has asthma attacks that night, after my sister and I have gone somewhere. It’s isn’t even five, yet, and she will stop us as we’re going out to ask inane questions or make comments. So, though we try to slip out the door, she stops us by demanding our attention. The door is frequently opened after four in the afternoon, and she has no asthma attack. The only conclusion I’ve been able to come to is that this is a controlling tactic.

Last week, I decided to bow to the dictate. My sister came to pick me up, and I made sure we went out the back door. She drops me off at my monthly Desert Rose meetings, and picks me up. Thanks, Ruth! It was amazing! I enjoyed associating with other writers, and the presentations were incredible.

When my sister dropped me off back home, we found the gate already locked. We both laughed. It’s a little annoying trying to deal with the lock in the dark, but no big deal.

I walked in the house, and my parents were shocked. “We didn’t know you weren’t home!”

No big deal to me.

I went back to my room, and within five minutes, my NM is knocking on my door. She wants to know if we need a sign out sheet. Excuse me?! No.

“You didn’t tell us you were leaving.” So this is all my fault? Isn’t it interesting that this is my first thought? Of course, I can hear the accusation in her tone of voice. It’s also the product of long habit. Then I wonder: How did you not know I left, since my sister didn’t leave alone? Oh, wait, we didn’t give her the excuse to blame her asthma on us because I took us out the back door. A day later, my thought was: So? Granted, my sister went back later, with her husband, without me. They assumed… what? That I hadn’t gone with my sister, I guess. The point is that it really doesn’t matter. I’m fast headed toward 50. If I were living in my own place, they’d never know when I was there and when I wasn’t. Looking more closely at my habit, I realize that I never tell them when I’m leaving. Ever. If they know I’m leaving, it’s because they’re right there when I walk out the door. Wow. I hadn’t realized I did that.

Then she tells me that she wants to make sure I’m not locked out again. Heelllloooo!! I have keys. It’s happened before, and I know it will happen again. So what? This is what keys are for, and I really do know how to use them, and do, all the time.

I know, I know. Judy! It’s one silly, little event. Why make such a big deal of it? That’s exactly it. I didn’t make a big deal of it; they did. And this is one of countless events with the same reaction and the same outcome, except that now I step back and remind myself that this is their problem, and it is not my job to make everything all better for them. They are choosing to make a drama out of it, and doing their best to drag me into it, but that doesn’t mean I have to participate, so I don’t.


  1. They tell us to let things go but they are the ones not letting go. Yup, I agree, their problem. 🙂

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