When it's for your own good

When we were children and had to take medicine, our parents told us it was for our own good.

Now that we are adults, that phrase is a cover for manipulation: I know better than you do what's good for you.

My least favorite cliche in the English language--when people gang up on another adult or violate her privacy--is "We're only telling you this (doing this, revealing your secrets, whatever) because we LOVE you."

When the boundary busters and the boundary bustee are in their 70s, both sides know how it feels to be treated as if we've lost our marbles:  it's patronizing and insulting for a person, or group of persons, pretending to be benevolent, to share our private information with someone else (our children,  spouse, best friend) hoping to get them in on the same icky "love" attack. 

In my book--if I ever wrote such a book--I'd say this: If you love a person, really love them, don't go over their heads or behind their backs.  If you think I have a problem, take a look in the mirror and attend to your own issues--because I've got mine covered. Most of my family--including my children--give me credit for having a brain. 

As you can guess, I've recently been the target of some love bombing "for my own good." 

A person in one of my friend groups decided that some of the meds I take could--taken together--cause death.  She told two other friends, then texted my children late Sunday night to name the meds I take and warn them.

If I had known they were so curious, I'd have emailed them all a list of my prescriptions and invited them to join me on my next doctor's visit--why not?  But not one of them asked me for that information--they took it on the authority of the one who'd texted and called Day and Will.  Who does that to a competent adult friend who still has her share of marbles?

I've had friends who've walked Luci on days I couldn't, brought me dinner on a bad day, gone with me to doctors' appointments, and done all manner of things to get me through the hardest days.  I can't count the times those gestures of love have made me teary with gratitude, like now, right now, remembering.