Earlier today my mother starts with what I used to say she “used too many words”… but the more articulate self in the last couple of years rephrased it as “too much dialogue”.

The example?

Earlier she told me that she moved my stuff out of my former cabinet in the kitchen. Ok Capitan Obvious, isn’t that common sense, on Christmas I inherited my gram’s ol pantry. I moved virtually everything except a few straggler items of food to move over to the pantry/hutch. The words she used was “I am moving some stuff in the cabinet so we can have more space”

Then she had to explain the obvious even more in a “just”-fication like “I’m just communicating”. I don’t know if its a male validation, or submission or she likes to be a human console logger, but every little message or wire pings so to speak, without self editorial control is really anxiety ridden.

The other offending line was my mother had then told me to check the food because some have expired. “Copy that” – is a phrase i am using more like a dispatcher to have full-stop responses so she doesn’t have to keep painting a picture.

Now I am not Rolo Tomasi or Aaron Clarey or some other Red piller type. My mothers constant explicit dialogue, known as corrosive control, or learned dependence, how am I supposed to observe my surroundings if I am constantly being reminded of things that are for most people are obvious? Mix in the blurred boundaries, and whose responsibilities are at whatever time of day, no wonder why I am confused.

For all the years my mother lectured about discrete communication, ironically this is one of the many infuriating moments of dealing with a menopausal mother who had me too early.

At this point, having a Young Cute and Sexy type would probably be as the same as my mother. I am so hopeless.