Marriage is about two people, but in mine, there were three—me, my husband Dan, and his overbearing mother, Diana. She never respected boundaries, and this Valentine’s Day, she crossed a line.
Dan and I came home to find our door covered in paper hearts and balloons from Diana. Inside a gift bag were black satin boxers for Dan and cleaning supplies for me. It was humiliating and passive-aggressive.
The next morning, Diana showed up unannounced, demanding to know why we hadn’t thanked her. Dan confronted her, reminding her of all the times she’d overstepped—faking a heart attack to keep him from moving, calling his boss, and showing up uninvited.
“I’m not your baby anymore,” Dan said firmly. “I have my own life.”
Diana tearfully insisted it was all out of love, but Dan stood his ground. “Real love means knowing when to let go.”
After she left, Dan and I agreed to set firmer boundaries. Diana might always see him as her “baby boy,” but I see him as the strong, independent man he is. Love isn’t about control—it’s about letting go.
