I Love You, But

Don’t get me wrong, I love you.

I meant it about spending the rest of my life with you.

I care about you more than anyone else, including myself sometimes.

BUT.

I also told you that I will never, NEVER, allow your parents to live with us.

Not in body, attitude, or beliefs.

I saw their dynamic:

Him, lazy; her, screaming, blaming.

I saw his subtle digs at her,

Provoking a reaction

So he could play victim.

I am neither parent,

And I don't accept it

When you play either the weaponized incompetence card

OR the bitching about doing a task card

OR the sulking when called on it publicly card

OR the forcing me to scream in your face card

Because you don’t hear me if I speak rationally.

I will NOT be forced into your mother’s mold.

I don’t give a rat’s ass

What excuse you bring:

ADHD? Autism? Extreme stubbornness?

Laziness to rival your father’s?

Don’t care. Get treated, get therapy,

Or get off your fucking lazy ass

Before I plant my shoe so far up your colon

That your chest has BIRKENSTOCK imprinted in permanent reverse.

Or, ya know, maybe write up a procedure list

Like I’ve told you to so many thousand times,

And then, fucking FOLLOW IT!

You have now lived more years out of their house

Than within it.

You’ve run out of excuses.

I know the lure of comfortable toxicity,

So much safer than these modern times.

As unstable as your childhood was,

You knew what was coming.

You now perform a subtle version of self-sabotage,

Where you can predict what will happen,

And therefore you have the illusion of control over your life.

Life doesn’t work that way.

I know you’ve noticed how my reactions have changed.

It makes you nervous,

And causes even more mistakes.

Just do your fucking work-

Without twenty zillion questions, like you’re trying to blame me for giving you the wrong procedure!

Without a million improvement suggestions, which don’t do anything except give me more work, cleaning up your “improvements!”

Without whining, complaining, or sulking, like a petulant boy!

Without trying to wear me down, so that I’ll give in and do your work for you, added to my own!

Without my having to yell in order for you to get moving, instead of stopping dead still and not moving till every single fucking question is answered in triplicate!

I no longer have the time or emotional bandwidth for this shit.

I’m not going to endanger my health, raising my blood pressure to dangerous levels, just to get you to comply.

You’re old enough to take full fucking responsibility.

If you can’t….

I’ve exhausted myself from yelling.

So now, I’ll whisper.

And you Should. Be. Terrified.

My tolerances for your parents’ behavior went negative.

My tolerances for your similar behaviors are dropping.

Beware,

Beware,

When it hits zero.