My parents have recently been telling me they think I treat my managers at work better than I do them.
To some extent, they are right. Actually they’re mostly right – I don’t buy my managers birthday gifts or hug them at random but when it comes to day-to-day tasks, I tend to treat them better.
As you may have guessed, this is going to be a post written from MY point of view, with nothing held back on my views on the parent/child thing. MY point of view does not necessarily mean that it’s automatically correct, unless of course we’re talking about Frozen.
Thing is, if my managers treated me the way my parents did, I’d probably quit on the spot.
My parents tend to get a lot more involved in my business than I would like. Yeah, like every teenager in the world hasn’t said that, but apparently my psychiatrist at least agrees with me. I met with her this last Tuesday to discuss my continued medication and when I told her about how my dad turned the Internet off until I completed a list of tasks, she frowned and said that’s way too controlling.
As much as I agreed with her, I told her she was welcome to tell my dad that and get her head torn off over it. I’ve already tried to make that point and every time I get hit in the face with the Bible. On top of that, I can’t really pull much by way of verbal argument. I’m verbose and I can talk a mile a minute, but I can’t hold up a proper debate without going to writing. And every time I do have a decent point (which is rarely, at least verbally), I get the Bible thrown in my face with “YOU MUST DO WHAT PARENTS SAY OR WE’LL THROW YOU OUT OF OUR HOUSE.”
Beings as I don’t have another place to live, I at that point retreat from the conversation. It’s one thing to learn to deal with these things by experience. It’s another to try and do so when my entire livelihood is on the line. Whereupon I then get mocked for “you always run away when the conversation gets tough/deep.” Damn straight I do, I’m not about to get thrown out just because you’re cheesing me off enough that I’d like to punch you in the face.
It’s one thing to expect me to do stuff. I’m perfectly fine with that, but it’s another thing entirely to go “I’M SHUTTING INTERNET OFF UNTIL YOU COMPLETE LIST.” Now, I’m not saying they don’t have the right to do that. It’s their house, their internet and I’m living here for more or less free; they’re legally entitled to do whatever they want however they like. But by the same point, I wish they’d do what they want in such a way that isn’t DRIVING ME INSANE.
And, naturally, we’ve had talks about this as well. None of which have gone as well as I’d like either because of sheer stubbornness on their part (referencing the Bible does not equal an “I win” button or a moral high ground) or because I’ll interpret something they’re saying as an attack and then my dad will blow up over how he can’t say anything without me interpreting it wrong. Well, me and my Asperger’s apologize. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, I’m not the best at reading social cues. Deal with it! You’re the one with the working nonverbal language, stop expecting me to be able to magically interpret what you’re saying properly when experience has shown that I can’t normally and even less so when under stress.
Which reminds me, I’m not taking any sort of moral high ground beyond I’m sick and tired of living like this. And since I know someone’s going to say it, “so move out then” is not an option. So don’t bother saying it. But damn it, my parents ought to be able to tell when they’re driving me completely bananas and be able to tone down the freaking pressure already. I’ve been eighteen and graduated for less than a MONTH, cut me some slack while I figure out what I’m doing and stop trying to shove it down my throat. When I want a drink I’m not going to run to the damn fire hose.