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.
Maybe Willy-Nilly take #194.
2 hours ago