I realized today that I don't even have to tell my parents I am working. It is none of their business. I am a grown man. Dad will arrive every night around 9:30 with my medications. I will have already showered. I will leave the house at 10:30 to be at work at 11 PM. I will be home at 8:30 AM in the morning in time to get my injection for my schizophrenia every two weeks at 9 AM. There is no reason for them to know.
But you know what? I feel wrong for doing that. I still feel as if I am a teenager all over again. It is hard for me to believe I am 35 years old. The boundaries between my family and I have become inexorably muddled over these past few years of my dependence.
When I took a job working at the grocery store at the shopping center where the gang hangs out, my father berated me so badly.
"I can't believe you did that without consulting me," I remember him telling me over the phone angrily. "You need to quit."
I quit the job due to the pressure my family was putting on me. It was actually the perfect job to suit my disability. I didn't go into the trial work period which is so precious. There was no stress involved. All I did was wrap vegetables and fruits all morning in plastic wrap to be sold. I should have never quit that job.
But, think of this... Isn't there something terribly wrong with just having to hide going to work? My best instincts tell me that I am caught in a terribly unhealthy relationship. I have worried and fretted over this so that I feel frazzled.