Mother in law: Letting things go

Last year I had to do a National Driver Offender Retraining Scheme, also known as a speed awareness course. It might not surprise you to know that the trainer was very Accidental Partridge and that the other five people on the course were men in their early 20s. For the eleven thousandth time in my life I was the only person in the classroom answering all the questions in the hope of getting out of there quicker. And yes, it did dawn on me that it was rushing that got me here in the first place.

The trainer, let’s call him Alan, did a segment on road rage. None of us had committed road rage, but whatever. He asked what we should do if another driver started being aggressive on the roads. 'I’ll tell you what you should do,' he said after a moment. 'You should do an Elsa!'

Silence.

'Now, what do I mean by that?' Alan said, beaming from ear to ear at his witty joke.

I looked at the young men around me. Another one for me, I realised, as a little piece of my soul withered.

'You should… Let It Go,' I said.

I think this is the main thing my husband has taught me during our relationship. When we met I was not very good at letting things go. If someone was being an idiot, I felt it was my job to let them know. I chased the BNP round our village after they posted a leaflet through our door and had it out with them outside the church. I didn’t sign up for milk from the milkman (even though I wanted milk from the milkman) because of the aggressive way he approached me on my doorstep when I was home alone, and of course I let him know exactly why I wouldn’t have his milk. I’m pretty sure, as a newly qualified solicitor, I called a meeting with my boss to discuss the inadequacies and unfairness of the firm’s appraisal procedure. There may have been some writing to my MP (not about the appraisal).

My husband has never chased someone out of a village. The only thing he has ever chased is a ball, and even then, as far as I can tell, in an unhurried fashion. Maybe it happens to any couple living together long enough, but he has become more like me and I like him. I really think that if a particular school mum tells us once more about how her child is 'ahead of where she should be' he will blow, and I, on the other hand, seem to be letting a lot go.

My life now has to be streamlined. I have to pick my battles because - oh boy - are there some battles in this house. I may as well just put the empty shampoo bottle in the bin while I’m passing the bathroom, even though I didn’t finish it, because that will be the quickest way of getting it in the bin - rather than reminding someone else to do it. Sorry to my pre-2012 self but I wear the same handbag just about every day with whatever shoes or coat I'm wearing. I didn't say a word when Deceptively Angelic Child 1 said she hated me whilst I brushed her tangly hair the other morning. I believe that a fee earner takes responsibility for a secretary’s mistakes, even if the fee earner has told the secretary how to do it properly the last fifteen times and you would expect some sort of learning curve.

Recently I’ve been working on a slightly extra-curricular project with a colleague. She’s been awful. The project would have been finished weeks ago if she had listened to me, if she hadn’t thought she knew best. Weeks after I’ve suggested something, she suggests it. I’ve gone along with it all, to make it easy for everyone and to get the job done.

And you know what? I realise I’ve gone too far the other way. I’m sick of letting it go. That’s not even what the song is about. The song is about embracing your power. You might be tired, and busy, and fighting fires on various fronts, but don’t forget to be you. We need people in the world who don’t let stuff go.

Some facts and identities have been altered in the above article