I resemble this remark! I lived in an unnecessarily makeshift and studenty way well into my forties because it felt like if I asserted any ownership over anything my mother would pop up out of the past and guilt me for making extra work for her by failing to read her mind about how things needed to be done. (And my mother was the daughter of two huge personalities who had huge operatic plate-throwing fights and dealt with clutter by buying a new cupboard and moving the old, full one into the back yard, so I can see why she felt like one unshelved book was one step away from screaming chaos everywhere, but still. Eventually someone had to get therapy, and that was me)