Changing View

Ever try typing with a cat on your chest? An hour reading my Kindle with the cat lounging near my feet, but bring up the lap top and WHAM! There's the cat.

Reminds me of control. Obviously, the cat is not trying to control me. I probably woke her up during my jaunt to let the dogs out and she thought, "Hey, loving person to go sit with." But nonetheless her act reminded me of someone who would always have something they wanted to do when I was busy. You know the type? On the phone to anyone that's not them, and they are suddenly in desperate need of your time or assistance and will huff, puff, and pout until you are off. And no, I am not referring to children, but a significant other.

Working hard on a paper? Apparently they can't tell as they interrupt you numerous times. In the middle of shopping and tell them you can't talk but they don't care? They just keep on talking. Tell them you prefer X for dinner and they make Y? I wondered how many times I could state that I didnt like butter pre-added to rice during cooking before someone listened.

I think the epiphany was when I realized I would purposefully look for something to do--the dishes, the laundry, whatever, when he would enter the house rather than be on the computer. It didn't matter that I was hardly on there, or whether I was on there 2 minutes before he came in. I would still stop what I was doing to avoid being seen as wasting time, or doing something unimportant, or by God, enjoying myself. There was a clue in itself that I was in a controlling relationship. Control by manipulation and anger. There, I said it. It's not easy to admit, and honestly, hard to figure out when you are in the middle of it. But I have been reading a book that seems like it was written just for me and it tells me I wasn't crazy. I wasn't overreacting. It happens to the best of us, slowly, over time, like a vine that grows so innocently but eventually strangles the plant who gave it it's undivided support....