I live in a three bedroom four story split level home, which I will admit is an unnecessary amount of space for me, my son of a witch, and my French bulldog. But I do have a very large family, so it’s nice to have the extra space when they decide to visit.
Recently, my dad asked me if he and his wife could come stay at my place while they worked on fixing up one of his father-in-law’s properties in Fairfax. Normally, I’d be excited at the opportunity to spend time with my parents and for my son to get to spend time with my parents. However, my dad could not give me an exact timeframe for how long they would be staying, though he suggested it would be around two weeks.
In those two weeks, I lost my goddamn mind.
I’m not saying this is entirely my parent’s fault. I have situational anxiety (which technically isn’t a DSM diagnosis anymore but essentially means I can go years without any anxious thoughts or physical manifestations but certain life events can make me feel like a foreigner in my body). And there were other stressors in my life triggering that anxiety, too.
One morning–after my parents had left–I was feeling particularly anxious and decided to go hiking before work. My thought process being that both physical movement and nature ground me when I feel myself spiraling. My thought process was NOT that my mom was going to happen to check my location at that particular moment and see that I’m in the middle of the woods on a Tuesday morning. Needless to say, she assumed someone murdered me and dumped my body.
So the next thing I know, my mom is now coming to visit that weekend to babysit me and try to help heal my anxious mind. Or so I’m sure she thinks.
And I swear–moments after my mom got in her car to drive home–I get a text from my dad asking yet again if he and my stepmom can come stay at my place. But just for a few days this time.
“I don’t know dad,” I told him. My anxiety is pretty bad these days.”
“That’s okay!” he told me. “I’ll bring my relaxation CDs.”
I don’t even have a CD player…
So since it’s only the third month of 2025 and I’ve had my parents come to stay with me not once, not twice, but three times, I’ve finally come up with my list of house rules to allow for peaceful visits without anxious spirals.
Bad Witch House Rules 
To ensure a pleasant stay & avoid eviction and Lexie anxiety spirals
- If you use a dish or utensil, put it in the dishwasher. It is now dirty. I caught my dad taking a butter knife he’d used to spread peanut butter, wipe it off with a napkin, and try to put it back in my silverware drawer. “It’s just peanut butter,” he said when confronted.
- Take your shoes off if you’re going to put your feet on the couch. Sure, my Joybird couch is a floor model so it was half the price of a regular Joybird couch. And yes, I still sometimes think about the guy who sold it to me (I told him I was a witch and he said I was the nicest witch he’d ever met. This was just to lull him into a false sense of security of course). But I still don’t want your shoes on a surface I put my face on.
- Avoid being in the kitchen from 7:30-8:30 a.m. when Lexie gets Rogan ready for school. For some reason, this was the EXACT time that my dad had to be making his smoothies in the morning.
- Do not call Lexie during her mental health walks. My stupid little mental health walks are a non-negotiable for me every day. One day when I was feeling particularly crowded by having my parents in my home, I slipped out quietly to take solace in nature and listen to an inspirational podcast (or maybe listen to the same Doechii song on repeat one; they have similar effects). To be interrupted during this 30 minute time by a phone call from my dad for a non-emergency felt like a CRIME.
- Do not tell me you’re worried about my drinking and then offer me Woodford Reserve one hour later. This is just mixed messages.
- Do not put trash in the freezer. My dad and stepmom live on a mountain outside of Asheville, NC, so they do not have trash service. They have to drive their trash to the bottom of the mountain. For this reason, they keep their food scrap trash in a bag in the freezer to prevent it from smelling up the trash between trips down the mountain. I do NOT live on a mountain. I have a very large trash bin in my driveway. But for some reason, my dad and stepmom kept trying to keep their trash in my freezer. I prefer my freezer space for things like my face roller, Rumpleminze, and pizza rolls. THANK YOU.
- Avoid nitpicking things that are “wrong” with the house. They clearly don’t bother me. If they bother you, I can make hotel recommendations.
- Pretend you like Chloe. If you’re not a fan of Chloe, I’m not a fan of you.
- Don’t try to convert me to Christianity. This one was my mom. I’m told I should take it as a compliment when religious people want to “save” me. But as someone who is not religious, I don’t try to convert people away from their religion, so I find it frustrating when they try to convert me to their religion. My dad and stepmom also brought Rogan a bible. This is not as offendable – he can decide his own spiritual beliefs.
- My morning affirmations are sacred to me. I start my day off with morning affirmations. They put me in a state of positivity, gratitude, and abundance. My mom thinks they are devil work and my dad indicated he thought they were a waste of time. Again, I can suggest a hotel if you want to judge me for what I do in my own home.
- If there is an unfinished Lego on the table, for fucks sake do not finish it. Everyone knows the joy in Lego is in the build, not in the finished product.
- If I happen to have a gentleman caller, we don’t speak of it. “Dad, what happens if you’re staying with me and I want to have a gentleman caller?” “It’s your house, Lex.” “Damn right it is.”
