Originally Posted by
Buffalobiian
Parents.
Again.
So they always have this idea that what they're doing is right. Because their intentions are right. Because it's for (Enter Retarded Reason Here).
I turned on the stove, the kettle and took out some noodles after work to let the water heat up while I take my showe. I come out of the shower, notice the smell of cooked noodles in the air, and knew someone had touched my shit.
But I play nice anyway, go out, asked if someone cooked my food for me, and said "Thanks, but no thanks. Please don't do it again next time."
Then starts the crap about "caring for each other" and shit and how rude I was. That I'm not being appreciative when I'm being helped.
Get. This.
This isn't about me, it's about you. You're helping me because you want to do something to help me, because it makes you feel better as a parent if you're doing something for me. But guess what. I'm not being helped.
I never asked you to do something. I don't even know when I want something, and how I want it done. So what makes you think you've got a chance? And so.. my noodles were soggy as fuck because she can't get the timing or the method right. (to clarify, I'm angry at this whole idea/event, not that I got soggy noodles. I'll be just as angry if it was firm)
When I came home, there was also some soup that she had prepared for me which I had to chug down despite not wanting it since it's already cooked. Just because I wanted soup last week, and had soup (and only soup) for dinner every single night last week, doesn't mean I do this week. And even if I do, how do you know which soup to make?
Now, when you're reading this, I know some of you, if not most of you, will think I'm some kind of unappreciative asshole who's being picky as fuck about the food my mum made for me.
BUT. But.. that's because you don't know that I've already acknowledged this with her. She's already complained that it's hard to prepare for dinner if I'm being so impulsively random. So I've given her clear instructions on this. DON'T PREPARE DINNER FOR ME. ASSUME I'M NOT EATING DINNER.
Simple? Easy to understand? I think so.
I don't expect you to be able to guess at my preferences. Not even I can until it happens. So.. don't try.
When you don't know, or something hasn't had a precedence, I play nice and say "Thanks, that was nice of you. But really, don't do it again next time."
When you don't acknowledge this and keep going, it's no longer about helping me. It's about making you feel good to think you're helping me. In the end man, it's about fulfilling your own desires and to feel good that you've been a good mother.
What's funny is - she tells my dad to stop buying things for her because he doesn't know her preference and what she likes or sees as aesthetically pleasing.
SAME. FUCKING. IDEA.
Times like these, I just feel the only way I can vent is to punch a hole in my door. Again.