Every Day with My Mother-in-Law: How She Turned My Life into a Living Hell
Not a day goes by without her: how this woman made my existence unbearable.
When James and I got married, our firstand what I believed at the time to be our wisestdecision was to live far from our parents. He was an engineer at a rather posh private firm, and I had invested my share from selling my grandmothers flat into a mortgage. We were building our nest, dreaming of peace, warmth, and a little family of our own. But who couldve guessed his mother would move in with us
She didnt physically live under our roof. Yet, her presence haunted every corner: in every plug socket, every cupboard, every teaspoon. No decisionwhether buying a kettle, curtains, or even a simple bath matescaped her meddling.
If I dared mention replacing the drapes, shed swoop in, armed with binders, catalogues, and endless advice. For holidays, she scripted our lives as if we were in an amateur theatre competition. Once, we planned to celebrate New Years in a cosy cabin in the Lake District with friends. Everything was booked, groceries bought, transport arranged. But she staged such a performance, Stanislavski wouldve tipped his hat. Tears, guilt-trips, wailing”A night so special, and you abandon your mother!” In the end, we stayed home, money wasted, while she critiqued the telly from her armchair like royalty.
When I finally fell pregnant, James and I decided to turn the guest room into a nursery. We barely mentioned it The next morning, she was at our doorstep, two workmen in tow and rolls of wallpaper under her arm. I didnt even get a word inthe renovations had already begun. Her plans. Her colours. Her vision. And there I stood, in my own home, feeling like an intruder.
I told my husband a hundred times it was too much, that I no longer felt at home, that I wanted to choose my own thingsfrom wallpaper to dish sponges. But he always replied the same: “Mum just wants to help. She has good taste. Its all out of love.” And what about *my* love? *My* desires? *My* taste? Did none of it matter because I hadnt birthed “such a wonderful son”?
Then came the final straw. She arrived one day, triumphantly declaring, “James and I are going on holiday. To Italy. I need to rechargeI carry so much on my shoulders.” There I stood, seven months pregnant, speechless. Not a word. My husband stammered that he couldnt let her go alone. So, I made myself clear: if he left with her, he could forget he had a wife.
The result? She stormed into our house, screeching that I was jealous. That shed birthed and raised my husband, and I was nothing but ungrateful. That I couldnt go because I had “a big belly,” and now I was stopping her from having “a well-earned break after this thankless life.” In short, she did *everything* for us, and we
I dont know whats right anymore. Im exhausted, living as three in a marriage meant for two. I dont want war, but I cant accept this either. I feel myself vanishingas a woman, a wife, a soon-to-be mother. Im terrified that once the baby arrives, shell pick not just the nappies but the name, the school, the friends
Ladies, any advice on surviving a mother-in-law like this? Or is it hopeless? Should I just accept shell always be therea shadow, a voice-over, louder than my own?
Tell me everything. I dont know how to fight this circus anymore.
