Wordsley, Stourbridge, England: 19 degrees, warm, sunny and slightly overcast.
It’s Sunday, and traditionally in England it’s the day for a family lunch —the usual Sunday lunch. I feel that my mother is trying to compete with Julie for attention, control, and perhaps even to sabotage my relationship.
It has become clear that every Sunday she pretty much decides what we’re going to have for lunch, and she never questions whether I will go out to lunch or if I have other plans. For me, a lack of consideration is genuinely quite toxic. I am letting go for now, as my priorities lie elsewhere.
It seems I might be imagining things, but these small details in the environment you live in, whether positive or negative, make a significant difference in your work, lifestyle, peace, and overall well-being.
I am trying to understand my feeling of being suffocated by my mother, due to her self-centred and covertly selfish nature. Is it because I live in her house, where I still have to do everything she wants without any consultation? Or is it common when returning to live with parents after a long time, especially if you’re not used to it, which can cause friction? Or is it a bit of both?
I think it is a bit of both, and because of this, I am trying to manage the two well. Julie is also living with her parents after her separation and while going through a divorce process, so it is not easy. As we get older, we become set in our ways, making it difficult to be flexible, even to change.
My mother has a very strong personality; she is extremely critical and opinionated, sometimes coming across as aggressive or offensive. She also has an air of victimisation, often complaining about being dealt a poor hand again and claiming that life always owes her or causes her suffering.
I’ve realised that happiness and progress in life are impossible if you’re constantly complaining and playing the victim. It’s better to accept your circumstances and work on improving or enhancing your life with what you already have.
Considering what you could or need to have before starting is just an exercise and a way to make excuses. This sort of behaviour is for losers. Playing the victim is also for losers, as is complaining or feeling sorry for yourself.
I have faced some very challenging and tricky situations in Brazil and England, but I have always been confident that I would overcome them and improve myself and my life. Our lives are constantly changing, and the way they change depends on how we handle those changes. The results depend on the choices we have made so far. And again, if you are unhappy with the outcomes and what you see, you can change it.
My mother’s life is a classic depiction of the choices she has made over the past 70 or 80 years. As she ages and the essence and demands of life become more challenging, it no longer pulls its punches; there is no disguising what you have sown in the past and what you are reaping now. You begin to see what good and bad decisions have led to this very moment.
I have realised that my mother lacks emotional intelligence, which has resulted in her leading a relatively lonely life with very few family and friends. Both of my daughters do not genuinely like or love their grandmother, my mother, and they see her as aggressive, impatient, and extremely rude.
Living in Brazil has secretly served as a form of retreat and a kind of cushion and filter for me. I was expelled from my home at 17 and only returned after many years. Do I love my mother? Unfortunately, I don’t think I do; I respect her, but I do not love her. Do I like my mother? Sadly, I perhaps do not, but I still respect her. Do I respect my mother? Yes, I do.
We must respect our elders, even if we do not love them; we should still show respect. They brought us into the world and raised us, within their limitations and conditions, whether for better or worse, so we owe them at least that much. Whatever they did or did not do was due to their own limitations, not ours, so we are not responsible for their actions, but they are.
While I am home in England and able to assist my mother, I will do my utmost and every possible thing to enhance her quality of life, whilst always endeavouring to shield myself from the toxicity that occasionally tries to pull me away from my inner peace, self-respect, self-esteem, and sanity.
In the morning, I washed my mother’s car. It is the first time I’ve done this in about 40 years, and I enjoyed it as much as everything else I’ve done since returning to England—gardening, cutting the lawn, and so on. These household chores and tasks I have undertaken here have been immensely satisfying for me.
I also watered and tidied the garden. It was gammon for lunch, which was very nice. I also managed to get some rest in the early afternoon while Julie spent some quality time with her daughter, which is always good.
In the evening, Julie picked me up with Austin, and we went for a walk along the canal, parking the car at the old Wharf once again. After about 45 minutes of walking, it started to rain. We quickly hurried back to the car, returned to Kingswinford, and left Austin at Julie’s parents’ house.
Strangely, it was not raining in Kingswinford, so we walked to a micro pub on the High Street there that I had walked past many times but never entered. This was a new experience for me—a micropub. Essentially, it is a small pub situated within a regular shop premises.
Typically, a pub is situated in a large building or a substantial house built long ago. A micropub, as suggested by the word ‘micro’, is located in a small shop and provides a kind of lounge bar within a standard shop setup.
We entered mainly out of curiosity. The interior decor was gaudy and tacky; I disliked it immediately. The bar counter was situated at the bottom of the room. There were tables and chairs along both side walls, with some high bar tables and stools in front of the main shop window. We sat at one of the high tables with the stools, looking out onto High Street. I bought some drinks, and everything was fine.
To me, this is a sad and unappealing place for people to go and have a drink. It is mainly for drinking, nothing more, to wash away unhappiness, monotony, and their sins. Again, it feels negative to me; there is nothing positive about it. It is simply a place to drink, get drunk, lose your money, and give it to someone else.
We didn’t stay for another drink; we left and headed to the Balti restaurant just around the corner. It was getting late, but there was still enough time to enjoy a good curry.
Julie ordered a lamb Balti, and I had a chicken and vegetable one. They came with rice and naan bread, and they were perfect—tasty, spicy, and clearly made with fresh ingredients. We didn’t have a dessert; Julie paid this time, and we left. It was beginning to get cold. I took Julie home and then walked back to Wordsley, a two-mile walk.
When I got home, it was around 11:30. I was tired, so I stayed for half an hour watching TV with my mother before going to bed.
In bed by 12:30 a.m.
Thank you.
Thanks for reading this blog post. Please explore my other posts and share your thoughts in the comments section.
Richard
