I was brought up in the midwest.  We where sent to catillion, taught manners where important, shown the difference between right and wrong. We where taught that as a women we should put the feelings of others before our own. We should do for others even when they don’t do for us. We should give but never expect. We should never question authority, including your doctors, or your husband.

Much of that is great child rearing advice – I mean the manners and right and wrong stuff, but some how the rest of it seems to be what got me into this mess in my life in the first place. For 20 years now, I have put others before myself at every turn. When my husband is sick, he lies in bed whining about how sick he is. Everyone is expected to wait on him hand and foot.  If I am sick, I am still expected to do eveything that is usually expected of me, and re-schedule my sickness for a more convenient time. My husband has never brought me a meal to bed, or taken care of the kids, or even picked up the house when I’ve been sick, and I never asked. For some reason I thought I didn’t deserve that.  What does this have to do with boundaries you ask? Because I am learning that boundaries are only set and achieved when they are asked for. Today I told my husband that he has 4 days to get in a treatment/recovery plan, or he needed to move out by this weekend.  If he did not, I would file for divorce.  We will see what happens.  I do feel like I took a huge step in spelling out precisely what my boundaries are.  I am tired of his drunked fits, dealing with an illogical idiot, and the embarrassment to myself and my kids.

I wonder why my parents never taught me that I deserved to have people treat me well. Why did they not believe I deserved to set boundaries and have them respected.  My mother is not talking to me because she is angry that I did not want her intruding on my vacation with my kids (she decided she was going to come on a cruise that I book for myself and my kids, and that was not part of the plan). My mother plows over my boundaries like they are new fallen snow, and she is the plow truck. The worst part is until recently I never even realized she was doing that.  Then tonight I get a call from my father yelling at me for letting my daughter move back in. Really? Since when do my decisiions have any bearing on him? I’m 47 years old. I’m tired of my parents not believing in me and respecting me enough to beleive in my choices and decissions.  No wonder my husband doesn’t either.

I am learning this at al-anon. I hope I can continue to grow and set new boundaries, which I learn to enforce!