I’ve been lucky enough throughout my entire life to have people who care for me so much that I cannot even fathom the massive expanse of their love for me. The ones who have really been standing out recently, however, are the guys in my life. Since I’ve moved to England, I’ve gotten a lot of concerned emails, texts, phone conversations and discussions – and even more actions in the way of making sure I’m okay. It was really nice at first, but after a while it got a little annoying – after all, have I not been on my own for more than 16 years now (no age jokes people!!!)? Have I not proven that I’m a capable adult (at least for the most part)? So all this attention and concern from my male relatives…..is it them being overbearing, overprotective or just overly loving?
The Luv Luv for example, really went a little nuts when I was looking for this new apartment in London. This went to the point where one of the ladies at the letting agency asked me if he frustrates me and I had to honestly answer “yes”. Why? Because it’s been frustrating with him suddenly being so concerned that I may curl up in a ball and die. Okay, okay, I have to admit, during our last long distance relationship, I did curl up in a ball for a month and ended up back on my anti-depressants – but at the time I had no job and no school and nothing to do other than to let my mental health monsters attack me. This time it’s different. This time I’m moving of my own accord for my future and to start a course of study! I’ll have things to distract me.
Also, I am always amused that the Luv Luv, like I suspect most other men do, sort of forgets that before I met him, I lived on my own and survived and was able to organise my own lease and my own cable and internet and was able to find the grocery and figure out the transportation in a new area (Waterloo, ON, and then Toronto) without any help from him. He forgets that…and then tends to try to butt in when he is really not needed. He is also forgetting that we’re in Britain and some people are not used to the North American harshness that he grew up with (ie. don’t tell my leasing agent “we’re paying customers, yeah?!” when the agent tells him that he needs 15 minutes before moving onto our task. That sort of thing just upsets them).
I mean, from the Luv Luv’s point of view, it is sort of my fault, because when we first moved in, although I was managing everything at the flat, I slowly passed them onto him. I had a problem with a bill? I let him sort it out with the customer service. Someone bugging me from school? Let him sort it out. The garbage was stinky? Let him take it out and clean the bin (sorta). It got to the point where he was doing a lot of what I could be doing – just cause it was easier for me to let him do it. I guess in his mind it meant that I didn’t know how to do it and therefore was not able to do it. Or maybe he just figured my anxiety would get the better of me – after all, only a few months ago I couldn’t talk to anyone on the phone! I guess all of this made him a little bit like my own personal one-man army from anything remotely traumatic!
I think that means that I have to have patience with him now, right? After all, he’s been doing a lot for me in the past few years, and that is sorta my fault – I got him used to me being so dependent on him…and now I’m complaining that he’s not letting me be independent. I guess that is sorta my fault….and it will probably be just as slow going making him realise what I do and do not NEED him to do for me as opposed to what I would like him to do for me. I have to get thinking on that one. Any suggestions?
The other two that have amused me recently are my Father and my Uncle. My Dad has probably called and been in contact with me more in the past 8 months, since I’ve moved to England, than he has in the past 8 years. It is quite amazing…and I think it’s because now that I’m in England, I’m officially on the “other side of the world” – and he can’t keep track of me as easily maybe? I appreciate the worry Daddy, but I promise I’m fine!
My Uncle, I didn’t think was acting in this manner too, until he came with me to view this apartment and then again to pick up the keys. The first time, he got down and dirty with the letting agent, asking all sorts of questions (ones that were necessary and quite a few that…well…really weren’t). The second time, he left to go find 9 volt batteries for the smoke alarm that was beeping and annoying us, and missed me signing the deficiency list. That didn’t stop him from going through the list anyway and pointing out all sorts of things and then telling me that I should call the man back and change them on the list. My poor Uncle has not rented in so long that he was looking at construction deficiencies (which as a layman you would not really notice, but as someone in Building Science (me) and someone who flips houses (him) you tend to notice) instead of deficiencies in the rental apartment that should be noted so that I would not get penalized when I leave.
I thought it was just him being thorough until it was time to leave and my Aunt had to sort of drag him out of the apartment and leave me alone….it was at this time that I got his last minute advice – “close all those windows that you opened up before you go to sleep, you hear?!” (I’m on the floor above ground floor at this apartment) and “I’ll come back next week and install one of those chains on the door that you can open the door to see who is there without unlocking it completely” (even though I have a peephole as my Aunt so deftly pointed out). It was a bit annoying but really sweet to see how much he worries about me.
Sometimes I wonder if I should be annoyed at all these doting male relatives around me, or should I just accept it? As I write this I have re-confirmed to myself that this is their way of caring – they are looking after me as such. My husband sees his wife (delicate flower? or just a Love Bug?) and my Father and Uncle still see me as an eight year old trying to figure out a rubix cube and scared of the two huge German Sheppard dogs my Uncle had.
These men have to realise that no matter how big their boxing gloves, at some point I’m going to have to face the big bad world on my own.
It’s really sweet that they care so much as to take action, but I have to say, it can be a little annoying when they appear so overbearing or overprotective. Thank God it’s just a case of me being overly-loved.