However, over time, the facade began to crack. The devaluation didn’t start immediately, but whenever I tried to hold them accountable or requested improvements—like asking them not to burn food—they would react with silent treatment, stonewalling, or making faces.
At first, I ignored these behaviors, thinking, It doesn’t define me. I’ve been through this with my narcissistic mother. But the professional boundary I tried to maintain began to erode. This was a full-time position, meaning I had to deal with this dynamic for 7–8 hours a day.
Sometimes, they would be bubbly and chatty, giving me a false sense of harmony. I rationalized their behavior, attributing it to grief over the recent loss of their son. Every time I held them accountable, however, they would cry excessively, which felt disproportionate and manipulative.
Despite my empathy, the pattern of tantrums, silent treatment, and erratic emotional highs and lows became intolerable. The final straw came during a routine inspection of the kitchen. I discovered it was infested with bugs, and many utensils were missing. Despite having all the resources and authority to maintain the space, they neglected basic hygiene and organization.
When I confronted them, instead of taking responsibility, they threw a five-hour crying tantrum. They then escalated to silent treatment—not just toward me but also other family members. Their behavior was a blatant attempt to manipulate us into begging for forgiveness.
That morning, my intuition screamed at me to fire them. Their toxic energy was affecting my healing journey, and I realized I had to prioritize my well-being.
The Lesson
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