My Monkey Business

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My business, your business, our business, monkey business, mind your own business…..I understand all of these concepts. Problem is, I don’t always abide by them. Case in point: A close family member was recently in a destructive relationship. Initially, I liked the guy and I honestly didn’t know how bad it was for a very long time, but when I became aware, I made it my business. Why? Here are just three of the thousands of reasons. 1) abusive relationships piss me off 2) my family is the most important unit in my life 3) I have a tendency to be very protective. Overly protective. Scary protective.  What did I do? I had a heart to heart with this family member about why she chose to stay, what it was like and whether or not she thought she had options to leave. She was in an emotionally abusive relationship, but she didn’t see it. It was too close. When I pointed it out and reminded her of what an amazingly bright and beautiful person she really was, she decided to leave and take control of her life. Was it my business? No. Did I make it my business? Yes. Would I do it again? In a heartbeat. It’s a fine line to walk and I would venture to guess that most people would label me as nosey and over protective. I’ll wear both badges.

It’s all the rage in self-help books these days; mind your own business, let people learn their own lessons, stop being an intrusive bitch….I’m not sure that last one was ever written, but you can keep that idea for free. Most of the time, I agree with them. Social media has made it too easy to be so far up everyone else’s ass that you forget wipe your own. We all know how complicated your relationship is, how no one appreciates you and your financial history down to the last penny. I get it, we are all waiting for payday and no, you aren’t the only one who eats ramen noodles for dinner. Everything is everyone’s business and it takes Jedi manuevers to keep from giving advice or taking advice about every single status update. There are times I have to duct tape my hands to my desk to keep from posting “Stop buying stupid shit” or “Why are you dating guys who are complete fucking tools?”. That wouldn’t be my business. Those people are acquaintances and their problems are not mine to navigate. But my family? It’s different.

It’s like I’m Italian the way I feel about family. Mob boss status. I’m the Tony Soprano of la mia famiglia and I mean business when it comes to how my family is treated by other people. Especially people who claim to love them. I tend to go against the teachings of self help gurus and I make it my business. Is it wrong? Maybe. Should I stop? Probably. But I won’t. It’s a part of my genetic makeup, like my unruly hair and the way my left eye is smaller than my right eye when I smile. Sometimes it’s appreciated and sometimes I am loathed, but I know I am always living in my truth. New self-help book idea….“Your Business Unless You’re Related To Me”. It has an annoying ring about it, don’t you think?