Closed Door Communications
I like my closed doors on the open highwayWhere the scenery changes throughout the dayWhere I can share a smile once in a lonesome whileWhile I am really just minding my own business
Closed door communications are pretty common in dysfunctional family relationships. My birth family practiced them to the extent that I can honestly admire parents who have taken doors off their hinges rather than let an adolescent use them to stew in their own toxic confusions. I wanted to do the same when my oldest son first started manifesting symptoms of his narcolepsy. It was somewhere between 5 and 10 years between onset and diagnosis. My husband defended his son's right to stew behind closed doors for most of those years and well beyond. We all know who got to clean up the toxic remnants, don't we? Carpet so filthy I needed gloves to pull it up, etc., etc. The sad part is that it was nowhere near the dirtiest two-legged rat's nest I have ever cleaned up. I often wonder if humans are the filthiest animals on the planet. The burrowing humans are easily the dirtiest this biologist wannabe has ever studied. It is mind boggling what they are capable of burrowing in and how ferociously they will defend their rights to posses every moldy scrap of it and how vehemently they will spout their omniscient knowledge of the world beyond their closed doors when disturbed.
Whatever makes your life worth living, friend. Need a high intensity bulb to light your path?
My youngest son and his intended silently opened the closed guest room door far enough to move in another load of her stuff last night. The rebellious looks on their middle aged faces was quite profound as they carried and crammed. Even the defender of closed doors I am married to looked uncomfortable as he maintained his habitual silence. I shrugged it off. I am not too far from bolting. The most effective way I have found to handle this so far is to close the doors of whatever vehicle I can afford and get my closed doors onto the open highway. Worked on my oldest son. He is still on daddy's payroll, but at least he is no longer collecting his filth where I have to smell it daily.
Daddy is disturbed that he will never be able to retire while he is supporting all these grown ups. Even he is not so willing to endorse parenting on the closed door plan. Two of my sisters have moved their many husbanded families in and stayed with us long enough to show him the wisdom of closed door parenting. Evicting siblings is a whole lot easier than evicting sons.
Repeat, I am not far from bolting. Let daddy talk to the door.
Closed door communications are pretty common in dysfunctional family relationships. My birth family practiced them to the extent that I can honestly admire parents who have taken doors off their hinges rather than let an adolescent use them to stew in their own toxic confusions. I wanted to do the same when my oldest son first started manifesting symptoms of his narcolepsy. It was somewhere between 5 and 10 years between onset and diagnosis. My husband defended his son's right to stew behind closed doors for most of those years and well beyond. We all know who got to clean up the toxic remnants, don't we? Carpet so filthy I needed gloves to pull it up, etc., etc. The sad part is that it was nowhere near the dirtiest two-legged rat's nest I have ever cleaned up. I often wonder if humans are the filthiest animals on the planet. The burrowing humans are easily the dirtiest this biologist wannabe has ever studied. It is mind boggling what they are capable of burrowing in and how ferociously they will defend their rights to posses every moldy scrap of it and how vehemently they will spout their omniscient knowledge of the world beyond their closed doors when disturbed.
Whatever makes your life worth living, friend. Need a high intensity bulb to light your path?
My youngest son and his intended silently opened the closed guest room door far enough to move in another load of her stuff last night. The rebellious looks on their middle aged faces was quite profound as they carried and crammed. Even the defender of closed doors I am married to looked uncomfortable as he maintained his habitual silence. I shrugged it off. I am not too far from bolting. The most effective way I have found to handle this so far is to close the doors of whatever vehicle I can afford and get my closed doors onto the open highway. Worked on my oldest son. He is still on daddy's payroll, but at least he is no longer collecting his filth where I have to smell it daily.
Daddy is disturbed that he will never be able to retire while he is supporting all these grown ups. Even he is not so willing to endorse parenting on the closed door plan. Two of my sisters have moved their many husbanded families in and stayed with us long enough to show him the wisdom of closed door parenting. Evicting siblings is a whole lot easier than evicting sons.
Repeat, I am not far from bolting. Let daddy talk to the door.
Replies