By the time I reached adulthood, being easy had transitioned into being dependable, and being dependable eventually became being assumed. My father would borrow my car and bring it back with an empty tank, while my mother would volunteer me to do chores for her friends.
Every incident followed the same choreography where a decision was made without me and I found out too late to refuse gracefully. If I objected at all, I became the difficult person who cared more about arbitrary rules than I did about my own flesh and blood.
I eventually started doubting my own reality and wondering if I was simply too rigid or if a home was supposed to feel permeable to others. That belief nearly ruined my marriage to Sarah because she noticed the pattern of behavior long before I was willing to admit it existed.
Sarah was a nurse who came from a family that knocked before entering a room and asked before assuming that leftovers belonged to them. The first time my mother let herself into our home with a spare key to drop off a casserole, Sarah stood in the hallway with a look of pure disbelief.