Broken With My Mother In Law

Another vital component of the professional artist’s working life, like me, even though it is part time, is knowing who I am as an artist. That means being aware of my style and what suits me and what speaks to me, and what doesn’t. This is not to say that experimenting with new things from time to time is a bad idea, or unprofessional in some way, such exploration can be valuable to my development as an artist. But even these experiments should fit into my overall style. I need a recognizable voice, one that represents me and makes me stand out from everyone else. That is why I really thought about what I should paint and make a portfolio or manuscript out of it. 

“Your hand-painted renderings have beautiful and clear structure, real spatial scale and clear primary and secondary pictures. Our platform hopes to cooperate with you for a long time.” The latest message was sent three days ago, which caught my attention. My hand-painted work for a long time was not wasted.

“Hello, I agree to cooperate with your platform for a long time, and hope to have a pleasant cooperation! Thank you.” I left a message three days ago, and now my reply is just right.

Hey… “Hello, can you make a draft offline?” A message pops up immediately, followed by a location map, which makes it convenient to submit manuscripts offline.

“Oh, if there is no conflict of time, it is okay.” I looked at the position away from me and drove for ten minutes, not far away. In this way, a long-term job was negotiated again. Ah, life is wonderful without Diana’s noise. It was too contemptuous to think of Diana telling everyone at that family gathering that I was a temporary worker. I was financially independent, so what happened to temporary workers? She was speechless. She just lost her job recently and didn’t like others.

Elena and Dylan will come over to my place. Diana was not here, so we could have fun. We planned to play and just lodge around here all day while eating what we could have. Today is a cheat and lazy day, as per Dylan’s statement.

I am preparing for their arrival when they came. 

“Oh, why isn’t the old woman here today?” Elena asked me, looking at the tidy room. It was a mess when Diana was around. She bought pizza, burgers and desserts with her. 

“It is because Caroline was here, they went to that new restaurant. She took Donald’s ex-girlfriend out to dinner half an hour ago.” I answered Elena as I rummaged through the bag she brought.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

“Ah? Is she going to help the third party? This is obviously ignoring you. This hateful dead old woman deliberately finds fault with you several times.” Elena was indignant for me, and I was glad to meet her. Without her, where should I share my complaints with? I mean, maybe I could have a decent friend but I could not imagine myself talking to them like I talk to her. 

“And she bought a house here?” She asked me curiously. 

“Just two houses away, lovely house, beautiful windows, all nonsense, she doesn’t even like her neighbors, God, I’m exhausted, she’s driving me crazy, I can’t do it,” I said dismayed, lying on the sofa with a towel over my face. I won’t last long if Diana goes on like this.

Linda’s POV

“You can. Don’t be a big baby. Come on, you can do this. Donald is the best thing you’ve ever met in your life. Linda, you can’t give this up.” Elena came over to me, pulled me up as I lay down, and solemnly told me not to give up. Yes, Donald is the best person I have ever met in my life, and I can’t be helpless any more. I need to be brave and do something about my situation. Who else could help me if not myself? 

I can’t complain to Donald every time. After all, she was his mother and it is natural for him to at least defend her or take her side from time to time. I know that. 

The thing about people is sometimes we don’t get along. Yes, I know that. The world just doesn’t work that way. When there’s friction with friends or co-workers, it’s easy enough to cut your losses and move on. But when you’re talking about difficult in-laws, however, the rules of engagement are slightly different. Heaven knows that relationships with in-laws provide plenty of fodder for the internet, not the least of which is an endless stream of jokes and stories about how mothers-in-law ruin relationships. 

I can’t let that happen with me and Donald. I need to be strong too. 

“Oh, it’s okay, it won’t do me much harm, and I won’t always let her do that, rest assured.” I looked at her firmly. Every time I fought with Diana, I felt like a world war was coming. From now on, I will start to fight back.

“It seems that your dear mother has been watching you all the time.” When we heard Dylan’s voice, Elena and I both turned to look at him. He came down upstairs with a notebook in his hand, and his clothes and funny hat on his head were Diana’s. She always had some strange clothes, and a middle-aged woman had a childlike heart.

“What are you talking about? What are you doing with her clothes?” I couldn’t bear it, I laughed and told him. Elena was laughing and leaning back and forth, but it looked like Dylan looked like a cowboy in this dress.

“I just went upstairs and looked through her personal things in her room. I found these in her closet. She has been investigating you.” Dylan pulled his hat off his head and came over to sit among us with his notebook.

“Oh, why does she have your study notes?” Elena looked at the contents of her notebook. It was a note I remembered. When she took it, I had no idea.

“And a picture of me on the beach?” I got a picture from it, which is also mine.

“Yes, I can’t believe it, and the picture of you here. Look at this, it’s very close, but you have to be very close to get it, right?” I didn’t go to see Dylan’s photos again, but I felt that my heart was instantly poured with cold water, and she kept watching me and peeping at my life.

No, I must go and see what Diana still has of me. I took Elena and Dylan to her room, determined to find something.

“Look at these Gucci brand things. They are all Gucci, Gucci. If only I had all these things.” Elena flipped through Diana’s wardrobe, a cabinet of luxuries, which made Elena obsessed, and all the fantasies were hers.

“She also has top-notch creams, which cost $400 a bottle.” Dylan got an expensive bottle of face cream on Diana’s dressing table and held it up for us to see. It’s not strange to see these luxuries in Diana’s place.

“I’ve heard of it, and I want to try it.” Elena walked over excitedly, carrying Diana’s Gucci bag on her shoulder. Girls will be interested in brand cosmetics.

“Here.” Dylan handed it to her.

“Oh.” Elena took a deep breath into the open bottle of cream.

“Does it smell good?” Dylan wiped a little on his hand and smelled it under his nose.

“What is this?” Isn’t Elena using that bottle of cream? What are these words?

“Those are her anxiety pills.” Kneeling on the ground and pulling a bottom drawer, I looked up at the medicine bottle in Elena’s hand. Isn’t that Diana’s psychotropic medicine?

I know that there are different types of medications used in the treatment of anxiety disorders, including traditional anti-anxiety drugs such as benzodiazepines, as I learned from working in a doctor’s office. The drugs can provide temporary relief, but they also come with side effects and safety concerns, some significant and some are not. Of course, all drugs have side effects. 

These drugs are also not a cure. In fact, there are many questions about their long-term effectiveness. What’s more, it can be very difficult to get off anxiety medications without difficult withdrawals, including rebound anxiety that can be worse than their original problem. 

I know some of that, since I asked Dr. Berthaire last time. 

“Oh, good stuff.” Dylan took the medicine bottle, looked at it, and told Elena mysteriously.

“Really?” Elena looked at Dylan admiringly, wondering what effect this medicine has. It can be so good.

“They can put down a horse, and I have it at home.” Dylan twisted the cap of the bottle. The medicine was so effective that no wonder Diana had to take it to sleep peacefully.

“Really?”