due to reading this persons post, alot of half thoughts and bits and bobs floated to the top of my mind. Her post rang bells for me with regard to ongoing situations in my own home.
In particular, she mentioned she had grown up in a council house (i think she said that) if she didn't well bear with me.
When I met my husband, I was a single mother of a 5 year old, starting a degree at the age of 30, in a council flat, but with all my own teeth. Irish catholic, enough to get his dads goat to say that when DH met me that "you can't marry a catholic". He came from a well to do family, great job and all the trimmimngs.
From the get go, I went to extreme lengths to make sure no one could ever accuse me of gold digging. His step mother would make digs like "have you been out with his credit card yet", to which I would say "no ta, got me own money thanks very much for asking". Which I very much did. I graduated, went to a job I loved and earned a nice amount thank you. But, and there is always a but, when DD2 arrived, a year after the wedding (biological clock what have you) things took a distinct turn. My role changed. I was dependant and not best pleased. He takes the attitude that I should be grateful, happy with what is my lot, take a lower seat at the table. And due to my hard line about what I am, I refuse to kick off about money. I smile nicely and say thank you. This little bit all for me is it? Ta ever so. I am hopefully going back to work. WHen I do, I am going to get myself a family size bag of whupp ass and liberally apply it. I didn't feel able whilst being at home, but seeing as I have wage packet again, all fucking bets are off.
Watch me go out and book tickets to Ireland to see my friends when I like. Take my daughter to visit her grandparents. I will seek no permission and brook no argument. They don't seem to have to.
Some of the above may sound mental, but this is a long nights worth of thought.