What do I do when I come home and find my mother reading through my Gratitude Journal? It's not totally private, but it's not like it's public either.
"What are you doing?" I asked, hoping she might realize she is over stepping her bounds.
"I'm reading your blessings," she smiled.
I should never have left it on the table underneath my Bible. I already know she's nosy. I already know she will poke in where she should stay out. I have no one to blame but myself, but I really want to scream. I want to grab it away from her and tell her she should ask permission to read my things, and yet I have just pawed through all of her belongings... If I take it away and tell her it's not her business, she will sulk, and so instead I smoke and fume. Truthfully, I want to cry. (Actually, I want to grab it away and smack her with it!)
Update- I know my dear husband will come with a gentle rebuke for the fact that I posted this at all. In a way I have broken my own blogging rule #1. Don't blog posts that show others in a negative light. But it is really me that is struggling here. It is me that is wrong more than my mom and it is only me who I am ultimately able to control. For those of you who wonder, I didn't smack anyone and I didn't scream. I did, however, eventually take it away and tell her she had read enough. There was no sulking and from now on I'll just leave the book upstairs in my bedroom.
The ABC's of Life.
6 hours ago