I confess I cannot even remember the topic now but a couple of weeks ago she was once again in her shouty mood and went on and on and on about something to my son. Perhaps I intervened, perhaps I did not, I cannot remember.
But, later, I had a chat with my son. 'I know,' I said, 'that mama loses her temper and can be difficult. It tires me out too and my mother was somewhat similar. Do the simple things well - wear your slippers, have your fruit - and you know the best solution: work hard at your studies, do well and escape.' (one day I will tell him that that will help me too but not just now!!)
And I remember asking whether a minor fault deserved such heavy reprobation (Entry 170). So, she has bought this flash, new car and that's great. We come back from somewhere in the morning and I come into the house first, leaving her to lock up the car as she is doing something.
Later in the day she asks where the keys are. 'You were locking up.' We look some more but can't find them. 'Maybe you left them in the car?' I ask. 'Oh, yes,' she says. And, indeed, they are still in the £29k brand new car.
In the evening I ask, gently, that I hope she told herself off for leaving the keys in the car. I know what would have happened if I had done so. 'You are callous, that's a brand new car, someone could have just walked up and driven away with it, how can you be so stupid etc. etc. etc..' I make no further comment of course.
The lady Philippa Perry is a really good 'agony aunt' in the Guardian and I remembered this column. I particularly like the last line - 'you can change how you react to them or you can leave.'
I have tried and tried and tried - leaving is the only option if I am not to survive in a living death. And while I had thought that I would wait until our son turns 18 and, hopefully, away at university, I am not sure I can now last that long.
Our son is in GCSE year and so I will try not to disturb the equilibrium till the summer but can I really wait another two years until school ends?
There was also this other article - by Eleanor Gordon-Smith
I suppose 'hate' is a rather strong word but I have been there and when she is in one of her moods, that is where I return - no hiding that truth. We have so much and yet why the stress and the tone of voice that appears to catastrophise every little fault - as long as it is not her's. And this passage was impactful for me:
'I think one way we get misled is by thinking the emotional pendulum of anger has only two resting places: loathing (self-defeating, tiring, preoccupying) and forgiving (beatific, peaceful, unburdened). As long as we think those are our only options, we’ll deny ourselves those more productive kinds of hatred. We’ll bounce between two ways of being unhappy: feeling the hate but being consumed by it, or trying to quell it and feeling walked on.
There is a place to rest between these positions – something I think of as “disinterested dislike”. In it, you don’t think about these people, but what you think of them is roughly “yeuch”. You usher thoughts of them and their vices out of your mind, the way you’d reach to mute the TV when a politician whose voice you don’t want in the living room comes on air.
Aiming at a more detached disliking is a less Herculean emotional feat. You will let yourself preserve the parts of your emotion that just feel true; these people aren’t helping. You won’t ask yourself to change your mind about them – you’ll ask yourself to change how much of your mind you give them.'
Living in the same house as husband and wife and parents to our son, it is not quite so easy, but this is what I try.
