Beginning of the End: The Email and the Reactions

Originally started in May 2014. I finished it today Monday, 8/14/17

I remember when my father was dying, I really didn’t want to get that close to it. I was afraid of my family (mother, brother, sister) probably more than I was afraid of my father’s behavior. I was also afraid of my own feelings about the end of my father’s life.

I’d had a love hate relationship with him and it had been a little over a year since I’d done something really hateful myself. So I had a feeling that if I got close to the situation I’d be taken advantage of. And I’d let it happen since I felt I deserved it.

A year before my father became terminally ill, I’d had a nasty break up with an affair partner. We were what I think to be “supply” to each other actually. I know I was addicted and in my co-dependence I felt worthless if he didn’t want me. Yet I was completely confused about my own feelings. I wanted him sexually, yet I did not find him physically attractive.

The break came when he found someone else, whom he could live with. And he was finished with me, letting me know via text message.

But that is another story with much more detail

Just after the break up, I suffered an emotional pain I’d never felt before. Now that there is time between me and that event, I can see that I’d actually had an emotional break down.  And in the fog of that, I wrote my father an email, blaming him for the kind of guy I was drawn to. I also pointed out things he’d done.

One thing in particular I remembered was a Thanksgiving Day, when I’d spent the night at B’s and went home to have dinner with my parents and my maternal uncle.

I needed a shower and asked my mother if I could use the master bathroom shower for privacy. She agreed and so I went about it. Five minutes in I could hear loud footsteps walking down the hall, the door to the bathroom slammed open so loud against the wall my heart jumped out of my chest. Next a loud booming voice said, my name, just the way I used to hear it in my childhood when my father was angry. The one that made me cringe and then freeze in place to wait for it to be over.

In obvious rage, my father asked me what i was doing? (I was in the shower so it was a fucked up question.)

I was transported back and felt like a small child again, “Mom said I could use it” I said in a small voice.”

He shouted back in that stern and seething voice of his, “Don’t do it again!”

I finished my shower, got dressed and put myself together for what I knew would be a meal of tension.

I went outside for a cigarette and my uncle followed. “How are you?” He asked.

“OK,” I lied.

How ridiculous of a question. How avoidant can you be? How much in denial and thick can someone be? We stood out there in awkward silence until I finished my cigarette and went back in.

I wanted to flee. I wanted to just go somewhere, anywhere but there. But I kept silent and I stayed.

I even knew that my friends Scott and Lisa and our friend Topher, would be having dinner with Scott’s parents a few houses down the street. But I was too embarrassed and ashamed to go there. I’d have to tell them why. Thing is, Lisa would’ve understood. I don’t know about the other two but Lisa would’ve been there for me at that time.

But then I also didn’t want to ‘intrude’ on their family get-together, despite also knowing that there was another one of our friends with them.

A friend who had moved to the area out of state, had no family in the area. It had become a tradition for him to join Scott’s family for Thanksgiving dinner. So chances are good that I would’ve been welcome. But instead I froze in place and stayed where the abuse of me had just taken place.

I sat through an awkward dinner, mostly in silence and could feel the anger of my father seething from him.

I don’t know, but as I write I’m realizing he might have had issues with my uncle, so his emotions, which could already give way to 2 year old like tantrums as it was, became even more ready to blow at the smallest perceived slight. I’m not excusing him at all. I am done with that! He was a fucking asshole and I wish there was a stronger word or name I could call him to release the hurt and anger I am feeling right now thinking about this.

But there was some indication prior to this Thanksgiving that my father had some sort of problem with my mother’s brother in the past.

One summer morning, when I was maybe 10 or 11 my family went to a farmers’ market or something and it was scorching hot when we got back in the car. At that time the family belonged to a swim club and we kids looked forward to going there every day.

This particular day my uncle would be stopping over for a visit from out of state so my mom wanted to stick around to visit with him. But she also knew we wanted to go swimming. So when we got in the car, she said to my father, “Why don’t you take the kids to the pool while I visit with my brother?”

My father sneered, “Why? is there some family secret you two want to discuss?”

I remember feeling shocked by that response and thinking even at that age, “Where the fuck did THAT come from??”

These were the things I pointed out in my email of emotion to my father. I also wrote of my confusion about his love for me. How could he love me (as he said he did repeatedly) when he treated me like this?

I remember as I wrote I was in a fog of intense emotion. I wanted his love while at the same time was craving the love of the man I’d perceived to have just abandoned me.

I sent the email to my father and also copied my mother, brother and sister.

I then did my best to disappear and since I had no car I got a ride from B to go out to the woods to play frisbee golf, be around people, smoke pot and drink beer.

At that time one of the guys that played out there had taken an interest in me and so after playing a bunch of golf, he asked me if I wanted to go get some Chinese food.

So I did.

While sitting there, finishing up, I thought I should call B and let him know what was going on. When I called him he told me my brother was there and wanted to know when I was coming home.

I knew brother was there because of the email.

My friend already knew what was going on because I’d told him about the email. He also had grown up with a narcissistic mother so he was a safe confidante.  He also understood my feeling of urgency to get home and confront my brother too, so we left the restaurant pretty much right away.

He dropped me off, gave me a hug and said sincerely, “Good luck. Call me when you can.”

I went in and my brother and his girlfriend were sitting on the couch. I don’t even remember how the interaction even started. What I do remember is my brother’s rage. Condescending me for having sent the email and then going out to play disc golf.

He raged over me as I sat in a chair, looking down on me and screaming and I mean really shouting, “HOW DARE YOU!”

He minimized my feelings. Told me I should not be bringing that shit up now. That I’m old enough to take responsibility.

As he raged, B and bro’s girlfriend stood in the kitchen just looking on. B did nothing. For the longest time I had such a problem with this and kept ruminating about how the guy who’d just left me would not have allowed that. He would’ve defended me. He would’ve escorted my brother out of the house and told him that he was not going to behave that way toward me or in his house.

But as my brother shouted I told him to get the fuck out, even from my chair seated below his bellowing face, “Get the fuck out before I call the cops.”

When he finally quieted down and heard me tell him to get out, he did.

While he was out on the porch his girlfriend said to me as she got ready to go too said, “Your brother loves you.” I said, “Yeah right.” And she continued to try to convince me of this bullshit until she went for the door herself.

As she opened the door, my brother peered into the door from around the wall and put two fingers up in a peace sign and said, “Can I come back in?”

I waved him in.

We had a calmer talk and although I was receptive then, I now understand that what he was doing still was excusing my father for his behavior. He’d said it wasn’t that bad, comparing our father to other fathers he’d known of his friends that did “much worse things.”

It was well known to him that I was lost in what I really wanted to do with myself (as in for a living). Remember this was the all important message that resonated through our household when we were kids.

When I told my brother that night that I was interested in writing about pets and my knowledge gathered from pet sitting, he said, “Why? I have dogs. I feed ’em, let ’em out, who cares?”

I just kind of chuckled as I looked down. I think you could call that a shame based reaction.

Then he told me, “The one thing I noticed about that email despite its contents is that it was so well written. You should write your story.”

Ummm, What. The. Fuck.

Is that not what he just raged at me for?

After that was over, in the course of a week I’m guessing now, I spoke to my sister and my mother.

My sister went on about how she had not realized how difficult it was to be a parent until she had kids.

My mother, I don’t even remember the bulk of the conversation, except me making a comment of wishing I hadn’t sent the email.

After the visit from my brother I sent another email to my father and apologized.

He wrote back and said, “It just hurts that you are hurting. I thought we’d gotten past all of that.”

I write about this email in reference to being apprehensive about helping my father in such close proximity with my siblings and even my mother who was divorced from my father at that point for nine years.

Even though my mother, brother and sister preached that I needed to let go of the past each time I attempted to talk about it, (the bad stuff that is) I knew they’d likely find a way to use that email to my father against me.

Both my siblings did at two different times in separate phone conversations with them.

I am not clear at the moment on everything that was being talked about with my brother when he brought it up. But if I have it written somewhere, I will post it and link it here.

With my sister, it was during the berating session you can read about here.

She told me that “When I read the email you sent dad, I made the decision that I would never talk about the past with you again.”

Ironically it was during this particular berating of me that I made the decision to sever ties with her when I felt I could.

God help me! I really want to go drink right now.

You are Enough on Your Own: A Letter to Myself

You are truly enough alone. You are whole as one. You don’t need someone else to complete you or make you whole.

Just because there are phrases that humans invented like, ‘the better half’ and ‘other half’, it doesn’t mean they are literal.

It seems to me those words pertain to the partnership and the relationship. The relationship itself is an entity…it’s own being.  So when it involves two people there are halves doled out and roles we take.

But what if that partnership/marriage/relationship ends?

Where does that leave you? If you are only whole with someone else it would leave you broken in half. And although it might feel that way sometimes, it’s not the case. You were whole and complete before you met that person. So why wouldn’t you be complete and whole after a break up?

(Just a hint: You are.)

Sadness and grief is normal. Missing someone you loved and invested in is healthy. And it will most likely leave a void where that person once was.

And that is exactly why you need to stay true to yourself, even in a relationship. Keep in touch with yourself, continue to remember who you are.

Your own interests and friends can help you through and fill that void until you grow strong again.

As an individual you do not need to have someone in order to make a life. You may desire and want to have someone to share your life with, but that person is not your entire life.

You have had a tendency to make a man your life, You’ve revolved your life around him and have even given up much of what you enjoyed before he was your universe.

IYou’ve been guilty of putting the responsibility of your happiness on the shoulders of someone else.

Even healthy relationships end, whether it’s by means of a break up or death. Although this hurts and there is a mourning process, leaving your soul/sole happiness completely up to your partner isn’t fair to either one of you.

This isn’t love. It’s dependency and if you feel you need this person in your life then it can and has become desperation. That’s not the same as wanting someone in your life.

Even within a partnership/relationship you are both still individuals with different needs and wants. You won’t always see things the same way. Finding common ground on the important things and certain values is what matters. If that doesn’t exist, sometimes the way to accept the differences is to part ways.

Too often you’ve compromised your own values just to stay with someone or to insure that he will stay with you. And each time you surrendered yourself this way you chipped off a piece of your own spirit. And you have lost so much of yourself.

There are changes and compromises that are reasonable of course. But if you are not being true to yourself and becoming shaky in your authenticity, that is not healthy, nor is it sustainable.

In the end you will begin fighting for your own true self to emerge again and possibly even wonder if you ever had a true self. And depending on how long and how much of yourself has been lost in all that compromising to please and keep someone else, the harder and longer the road back to you will be.

The key is to know yourself and be strong within so that if someone else decides they don’t want to be with you or needs to leave for their own reasons (even death) you will have the strength and confidence to go on without him.

More on Roy and Confusion of a Young Woman

Image found on Google Images

I was thinking more about Roy and our affair, today in the car as I was driving. My usual thing is to look back on events like that and take blame and feel guilt and shame. And today when I was thinking about it, I was like, “Fuck that.”

He was older. he should have known better, he could’ve stopped himself, blah, blah, blah. This is completely out of character for me. But you know, my usual habits have not really served me all that well, so there.

I don’t really even think that stuff. I’m sure he was just as fucked up as I was. But it made me feel better to blame someone other than myself anyway. I need practice placing blame where it actually belongs and I transferred that feeling to my parents and it worked. Because when I drive my mind goes all over the place and I made that jump. The cool thing was, I didn’t feel like a horrible person for placing blame, in either scenario.

Anyway, back to Roy…and me. It’s weird the way I think about him. I don’t think about him much at all. I don’t sit around missing him and I don’t really regret what happened. I don’t even remember his last name. He was a gorgeous man I thought of as being out of my league and I had the chance to hang out with him. The sex was fun.

At the time, when all that crap I wrote about in the previous post went down, I did feel devastated. But he was never really available anyway. And you know, neither was I.

I was a year away from experiencing deep depression and being aware of it. I was already depressed but didn’t have the words to describe what I was feeling.  At the age of 20, I’m truly surprised, when I think about how dark things were for me, that I didn’t attempt suicide. But that didn’t have to do with Roy.

In fact when I was “dating” Roy, I was actually seeing two other guys. I was somewhat of a player myself, I guess you could say. But it was a matter of confusion than anything else. PLUS I wasn’t married.

I had asked Roy, while lying in bed together at his shore house that weekend, if he’d stop seeing me if I was seeing other people. I figured it wouldn’t really matter since he was married. He said, “Yeah, I probably would.” And so I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t feel the least bit guilty about it. But that was only because he was married.

I don’t know he didn’t know though, when, he’d seen me drive away from the restaurant one day with, Tom, one of the guys I was seeing. I remember feeling sad when I got into his truck because I really wanted to be with Roy.

Roy waved as he stood next to Dianne on the loading dock and Tom and I drove away. Dianne had a huge grin on her face.

The relationship between Tom and me had become long distance. But we dated rather seriously when I was 18 until he moved away about a year later. I cheated on him early in our relationship with someone I’d known previously and I almost lost him.

Things were really good between us (well, my perception of good anyway) when Tom moved three hours away and I had no car. That was difficult. I still remember how sad I was the last night I saw him previous to his move.

We still talked a lot on the phone and he came up to visit a lot. Later when I did get a car, I started going down there on a regular basis. I used to love to drive down and spend weekends down there.  He and I had a lot of fun together. He still came up for visits too.  But there were certainly rough patches and I sabotaged things there myself.

I also dated another guy, Tim. I had actually dated him for a short time before dating and getting serious with Tom. At the time I was dating Tim, Tom and I were friends and hung out with some of the same people.  I also had fun with Tim but that relationship had more rough patches than the one between Tom and me. And Tim had many more issues than Tom did. Tim wasn’t as easy going although he had a great sense of humor. Tom was funny as hell and would have me belly laughing a lot.

Tim could be abusive. Tom was unavailable in other ways. (But he wasn’t married.)

I would push them both away and pull them both back in. And not usually simultaneously.  Different things took place internally for me at different times.  Tom would start to get on my nerves and I’d stop seeing him for a while and then I’d spend time with Tim. Then I’d either begin to feel engulfed or tired of Tim too and go back to seeing Tom for a bit.

I would sabotage in other ways as well, like, confessing things I felt guilty about to each of them. I would sit and write long tormented letters about each thought I felt awful for, or something I’d said that I felt might be deemed as disrespectful.  I had this obsession with being completely honest so that they knew every nook of my brain, no matter how hurtful what I told them was.

I’ve always had a difficult time explaining this. I’m not sure anyone else has ever dealt with this. I never wanted to deliberately hurt them. The reason was about being honest. I figured if they stayed with me after I was honest, at least I gave them all the details to make an informed decision then I’d done the right thing. And if they still loved me after I was honest then I wasn’t bad after all.  Problem was, those letters became never ending.

Each time I wrote one thought down, another one would pop into my head and I’d continue to spiral down with each thought or deed I felt the need to write down.  And it just kept going. I’d write endless letters and a lot of times, I found myself squeezing in sentences where I’d forgotten to write them previously, crowding words together so tight, it would make some of the letter unreadable.

Those letters caused a ton of anger within the receiver and a lot of tears from me.

I can feel a tinge of shame, but mostly I feel sad for the young woman who felt the need to confess every adverse thought she had about her boyfriends. I grieve for her and all that lost time sitting on her bed, chain smoking cigarettes, as I wrote endless pages of dark and hurtful thoughts.

I read recently about it, although I don’t remember where or what I’d been looking up. And the article wasn’t about the same scenario I went through. But the explanation was similar enough for me to make a connection. So I got to learn that wasn’t really my fault either. It turns out that there is a good chance there was a nutritional deficiency that caused me to behave like that.

Roy

This isn’t Roy’s car. His was black. I took this at a car show in my old hometown some years ago.

Roy was a chef at a job I had a long time ago. It was a job I couldn’t get to by foot or any form of public transportation and I didn’t have a car.

I’m not sure what even made me go out to apply and interview for it knowing all of that, but I did. I was able to get there for the interview borrowing my mother’s car, but I would not be able to have it on a daily basis.

Roy hired me that day and since I’d been up front about my transportation issue, he arranged with one of the staff to pick me up at a certain place each morning so I could get to work.

Each morning I would walk about 8 blocks to meet my ride on a main stretch of road, we’ll call the pike, the same small highway the restaurant was on actually, however, miles down the road. Rose was my ride in the beginning, but she was also pregnant, so her days at the restaurant were numbered.

Later I got rides from Sally who would pick me up at the same place. She and I became friends outside of work as well. But this is about Roy, so let’s get to it.

It did not take long for me to develop a crush on Roy. He was gorgeous. He was tall, with jet black hair and oh so handsome. He was 26. I was 19.

My direct supervisor, in the pantry, Dianne and I were talking one day and she asked me if I had a boyfriend. I told her I liked someone right there in the kitchen. She got all excited and asked me who.  So I told her.

Immediately the grin dropped from her face and she said, in a hushed urgent tone, “He’s married. You can’t date him.”

“Oh wow, I had no idea.”  And I didn’t. He didn’t wear a ring. The news was so utterly disappointing. I assured her I’d forget about it.

But I didn’t. In fact, I didn’t really care that he was married. I didn’t exactly set out ‘to get him.’ But the fantasy of being with him stayed alive.

Much to my surprise he seemed to be flirting with me when the opportunity presented itself. I’d catch him staring at me from time to time as well.  Roy then made flirting between us even easier when he assigned me to make the daily soup after the lunch rush was over and I’d cleaned up the pantry/cold side of the kitchen.

The huge pot that was for making soups was near the butcher block he spent most of his day at. The massive pot was a permanent fixture in the floor, so there was no moving the soup pot.

He taught me how to make soups and I would use his recipes to do it.  It gave me something to do since I had to wait for Sally anyway, who worked until at least 5:00pm everyday and usually later.

I didn’t mind staying as long as whenever. There was plenty of food and soda available if I wanted it. It was a restaurant after all, and I worked in the kitchen. But my main focus was Roy.

One day, the exact circumstances of which I cannot remember, Roy and I were alone in the kitchen at the end of a Sunday, a day I didn’t usually work. I think what happened was that Roy asked me to stay a little later that day, when Sally was getting ready to leave and said he’d give me a ride home.

Perfect! Yes of course.

So when we left, I climbed into the passenger seat of his sleek, black, beautiful Corvette. I was so excited. We drove down the road and as we neared the mall on the pike, he asked me if I’d ever driven a Corvette.  I chuckled and said, “No. I don’t even know how to drive stick.”

So he made a left turn into the vast empty parking lot of the mall, stopped, yanked the emergency break up and got out. I watched him as he walked in front of the car, over to the passenger side, opened the door and said, “Climb over.”  So I did.

I could not believe this guy was going to allow me to drive such a beautiful car. But that’s what happened. On Sundays that mall (which is no longer in existence now) closed at 5 pm so I had a lot of room to learn. I never mastered that car, but I certainly had fun trying.

I think we must’ve stopped for a bite to eat as well, because by the time we pulled up to the front of my parent’s house, it was dark. It was a nice night though and we got out of the car and spent more time talking. By the end of that night we were all over each other on the hood of his car. It was a wonder we were still clothed by the time he left.

Our affair had started.

We’d kiss in the walk-ins. He initiated this. I remember being so nervous about others walking in on that.  He actually initiated everything that happened between us. I didn’t have to chase him at all. I just fell into his arms… so to speak.  I reached a point where I felt completely special and I’d believe anything he told me.

We spent a weekend once, at the shore house he owned and had fun on the rides on the boardwalk.

I didn’t see him a whole lot outside of work, but when I did, it was exciting and fun. The sex of course was phenomenal.  But one day brought the kind of excitement I did not enjoy.

Roy and I were sitting in a fast food parking lot by the mall in his car one late afternoon, kissing. All of a sudden I heard a sharp sounding thud and simultaneously felt the car rock…hard. Startled, I looked out the windshield and saw a woman jumping up and down on the hood of the car, yelling, screeching actually, “Roy, what are you doing? She’s just a kid.”

Scared. the. shit. outta. me.

It was Pam, one of the cocktail waitresses from the restaurant. She was obviously not just upset about me being so young. It was then I’d figured out she’d been another one of his girls.  But after he/we made our escape from this woman, who actually chased after us in her car, he assured me it was over.

This actually explained why the woman would stand and talk to him before her shift every day. I never thought much about it since the restaurant had been in business for years. They’d likely worked together for a long time and were friends. Big deal.  I was friends with everyone on the kitchen staff in one capacity or another, including the men and I was particularly close to one of the cooks, who I thought of as a brother. At some point, I had partied with most of them as well as some of the wait staff.

I believed his lies about he and Pam being over. And to be honest I don’t remember how I faced Pam after that. Knowing what I know now though, I have no doubt that he told her some lie that settled her down, just as he’d lied to me.

And all this time he is still married and has a small child. However, he did tell me he was divorcing. I was 19 and quite naive. I had no idea.

I remember there was a weird day when his wife came into the restaurant and Roy, his wife, Pam and my direct boss, Dianne, all gathered into the chef’s office and shut the door. I never did find out what that was about.

But down the line, I found out late at night, after a party, at a Denny’s, that he and Dianne (my direct supervisor) had also been fucking around. She’d actually told me while Roy was in the rest room.  I had been chewing on a french fry, when she delivered the news. That fry, quickly turned to cotton in my mouth and my appetite immediately dissipated.

I got up and went outside. I couldn’t believe I was hearing this. Dianne herself was married. She’d been the one to discourage me away from crushing on Roy.  It all made sense.

The only jealousy I ever remember feeling pertaining to the two of them, is one day I saw them walking back toward the kitchen together from dry storage. They were talking, laughing and Dianne actually glowed.  I shake my head even now.  I never once addressed that. I mean, people get jealous. They worked together. I let it go.

Dianne chased me out to the parking lot and talked to me like a friend. I don’t remember the words exchanged but I was so hurt and felt like such an idiot. Roy soon followed to find out what I knew.

Dianne wanted to give me a ride home that night, but I said no and went with Roy instead. While he drove I asked questions and he answered with lies. But of course I didn’t know they were lies and wanted to believe him.

I’d been hopeful when I got out of the car that we’d see each other again. By this time, the restaurant as we’d known it had shut down and was running in a different way. He wasn’t working there anymore, but Sally, Dianne, and I were, along with one of the guys (the one who’d felt like a brother to me).

Some time later, I tried to call the number I had for Roy and discovered the number was out of service. I hung the receiver up in a sort of shock and went to my room. I sat down on the corner of my bed, knowing that he was gone forever from my life and cried.

Linking an Old Post

Because I’m still pissed.

And because I think people…anyone really…but especially if you suffer from post traumatic stress…need to be careful as to who they tell their stuff too because even the slightest invalidation can do serious emotional damage and send you back miles in your progress.

Another topic in this old post is the same idea, in being careful who you discuss things with, but also a warning of sorts about choosing who to counsel with on a regular basis as well. 

I had a tough experience and fallout that will most likely stay unresolved.

https://asleepingtiger.wordpress.com/2015/11/15/dismissed/

The Weird Thing About Facebook…and

Actually this is more about the weird thing about the area I live in combination with Facebook, because hey, most of the people in my friend list are from this area.

I have lived in this county most of my life. I moved here when I was 3 from a nearby state and have lived in numerous places within the county. My parents moved with us kids, four times since I was born. I’m the oldest.

The county we are from has a lot of school districts and is densely populated with over 560,000 people, so in that respect I guess you could say it’s a large county. But…and this is a big but…the area it covers is less than 2000,000 miles.

That, my friend, is a tight squeeze.

There are still many school districts though and since most people meet in school and still know each other, around here, it’s not like everyone knows everyone here.  Small town size and we even have some farming as well as woodsy/forest-y areas. Most of it is suburbia but it can feel like city in some of the more busy areas, like the main terminal for public transportation, between city and burbs and the just the area its in, has more of a city feel.

Let’s just say, although it’s a small area, it’s not like we all know each other nor are we just running into people we know, every time we leave the house. It happens, but not every time.

My siblings and I started off in Catholic school, a very small school in the town we grew up in.

Once we each reached a certain grade, we went to public school.

I finished my one year of Catholic high school and I started public school in my sophomore (10th grade) year. My brother switched over that same year as well but started at the middle school. My sister stayed at the Catholic school until she was finished with 5th grade. She had one more year to go when my brother and I made the switch. She had lots of friends, so I’m not sure if she minded much.

For some strange reason, only known to my fucked up father, he didn’t want to put any of us in the public elementary school.

{Side note: The year my brother and I both switched over, was the same year they moved 9th grade over to the high school and 6th grade over to the junior high, making the junior high a middle school.}

Thing is, because the school district we lived in is so small, I wouldn’t say that each person from that school district knows everyone else from it. But a lot of people know each other, intertwine and there are small degrees of separation.

I can see this so well on Facebook and even though I have my siblings blocked, there are times I can see that one of them has commented on a mutual friend’s post.

This just happened.

It doesn’t set me back or anything but it does make me sad.

The post that prompted this post is one from an old next door neighbor. She posted a picture of her and her father on her wedding day.

My father and her father would have long chats when they’d run into each other outside. The woman who’s post I’m talking about here, ‘babysat’ us once in a while also. So we have some memories there.

I was going to comment, but then I noticed my friend, addressed someone with the same name as my sister and I figured it must be her.

Since I have her blocked, I can’t see her comment but can tell by the friend’s response that she is indeed addressing my sister, not someone else with the same name.

So that kind of changed my mind about commenting.

I know one thing I could do is un-friend anyone with connections to my siblings. I have actually thought of that. But that’s the crazy thing about the area I live in. So many of us are intertwined with each other. Even though I’m more than five years older than my sister, we know a lot of the same people. She’s even got people in her list that she wouldn’t know unless she knew me. So that’s a bit weird as well.

I’m guessing here because I can’t see her profile anymore with blocking her. But I had been on Facebook before and after a breakup, I deactivated my account and allowed it to completely close. I’d closed it before waking up to who and what my family is so before that, I’d been connected to my siblings through Facebook.

When I made a new account a few years later, one of the first things I did was block my siblings.

In some cases, I’ve done just that. I graduated with my brother-in-law’s cousin. We were friends before I closed down my original account. And I, in fact didn’t block her in the beginning, likely because I didn’t think about it. I’d seen her in threads and just didn’t engage. This was a bit of a battle for me because I like her and wanted to friend her again, but knew it wasn’t a good idea considering the circumstances.

I eventually did block her, but didn’t feel good about it.  You can bet however, you’d see many matching names (because of school) in our friend lists.

But I refuse to do that with every single person who is intertwined with one or both siblings and myself. Whether it be for the principle behind that or because I enjoy their posts, want to keep up with their news, or because I don’t want to hurt feelings or whatever, I just don’t feel good about bowing out of every connection.

The woman I did block from my graduating class, is also family…sort of. My sister and her husband are close to his cousins so yeah, that’s too close of a connection and that’s different.

I see the presence of lots of people who I’m not friends with as well, who could possibly, probably and some I know for a fact, know my siblings. I don’t generally initiate the friending when it comes to those people. But I will friend them back if they request it.

Last I knew, both my siblings were also still friends with a friend of mine I met in a work place, through an old boyfriend. She is from the same county but from a different school district. So they didn’t know her until long after I did.

So, it gets a bit sticky there on Facebook. I’ve navigated for long enough now though that I don’t really think about needing to be careful or anything. Not as of yet, at least. I don’t use Facebook to air the family shit so there’s no worrying about anything getting back to anyone.

I mostly post cute animal and pet stuff. Once in awhile I might take a stand on something. I generally stay out of politics although I’ve made a comment here and there. But most of my comments in other people’s threads are benign and sometimes attempts at being funny.

There’s cool things about so many people having small degrees of separation. But sometimes it has this entrapping feeling, just because of the situation I’m in with my siblings.  The good thing though is that the county I live in, has many school districts and the population is dense.

I mention school districts for a couple reasons. One…it seems to be a way to divide areas in our county that makes sense to pretty much anyone you talk to around here. And two…because that’s where a portion of the people come from that people meet.  One hundred people out of 242 are from my high school. A couple of those are a friend’s kids. But that’s still quite a ratio.

Thankfully the large population of the county, makes it so that run-ins with my siblings are not highly likely.

{Now watch me see one of them tomorrow, since I said that.}

Either way, I’m not going to just de-friend all those people. If anything, I would shut down the account completely. But I’m not gonna do that either.

I try not to get on too often because when I do I get sucked in and waste a lot of time there. I admit I’m not close to anyone in my friend list on Facbook though. I do see it as a good way to stay connected and especially with future in mind. You just never know when you might want to reach out to someone…or vice versa.

I do have issues with a couple people in my list, but I don’t make anything of it on FB. I’ve thought about un-friending there too. But have not and at this point don’t have the intention to. Radical acceptance in the works.

I’m feeling a bit sad and nostalgic after “seeing” that my sister commented on our old next door neighbors post about her dead father, who I liked, and so I would’ve liked to have comment on the post too, but the sadness will pass.

It’s not like I bumped into her physically, so I’m still safe.

I know there’s a lot wrong with FB and it can really be a time waster. But there are positives about it too. I don’t post a lot and I don’t comment much either. But I do want to keep the communication lines open there, for myself to the people I may want to or need to reach out to at some point.

Luckily there’s a block function and I know how to use it.

Dudes Be Too Pushy

pushy dudeTonight I got a private message (PM) on Facebook from a guy I vaguely know. We’ll call him Aggressive Guy #1 (AG!1) for this post.

We have some mutual friends from a sport we both have played in the past at the same place. We have connected a little on Facebook, PMing back and forth a bit talking about getting together. We exchanged phone numbers and immediately he started texting me.

The first text was to let me know that if I wanted to reach him, to text him because he’s not on Facebook much. There were a couple more and none of them were questions and didn’t indicate needing to be answered so I read them and left them.

I was also a bit annoyed that he would send three texts in a row so quickly after exchanging numbers.

Eager much?

I gave it a week or so and called AG1 on a weekend day…one of the last nice days before it got really cold. He’d suggested during our messaging on FB a walk around a particular trail in the area, that I’ve been wanting to walk around (he didn’t know this) but have been a little afraid to walk alone. When he mentioned it I thought, not only would it be fun, but now I could walk the trail, get to know someone new and feel safe.

So that was what I had in mind when I called him.
It turns out he was in the middle of a painting job with a deadline and he’d be working all weekend. He seemed a bit surprised and let me know he’d tried to get in touch but I wasn’t receptive.

Receptive is my word to paraphrase the idea he had gotten across to me. I forget exactly what he said. But it was said in this sort of reprimanding and condescending way, “Well, I tried to reach you but you wouldn’t answer” and “If only you’d been available when I texted and called you…”

Maybe I’m reading WAY more into that but it’s what came to mind as he spoke. He could only be referring to those three texts he shot off almost immediately after I gave him my number. “Is he serious?” I thought.

Unexpectedly, he called back within the hour, leaving a message and explained himself, “I had my hands full, I just couldn’t talk right then. If you get this within the hour give me a call back.”   The explanation sounded like he was talking to someone who’d gotten upset with him when he couldn’t talk. And I’d been completely understanding and quite frankly rather indifferent.

We haven’t spoken since and he’s not on FB too much but I saw a post that he’d started some class. Obviously this would make him even more busy. But really I didn’t think much of it and I moved on. Not dating wise, just that I didn’t give him much more thought.

Then tonight, maybe about an hour ago, I’d made a comment under a mutual friend’s post that he’d made a comment under. And moments later I see I have a PM.  It was AG1.

He wrote, “In class, call me at around 9:45.”

My first thought was that I’m not gonna feel like talking to anyone at that time. But I really don’t want to talk to him at all. I’ve lost what little interest that had been there in the first place.

I wrote back, “I’ll be in bed…sleeping.”

And then I signed off.

His communication seemed too pushy to me. It would’ve been nicer to say, “Hey, I get out of class at 9:45 can I call you?”  I still would’ve said no, but I may have suggested an alternative day and time if he’d been less aggressive.

Aggressive Guy number 2. (AG2)

AG2, before he got aggressive, and I got into a comment exchange about rock bands and other music on one of his posts., I know him from high school and we were in the same graduating class. He apparently got excited that I was able to finish lyrics to songs and all that and after having a fun time with that he pretty much ruined it for me by posting on my wall..

“We MUST get together.”

Whatever happened to asking?

Not that that would’ve changed my answer. I’m not interested. At the risk of being offensive, I’d like to add…this approach is much different coming from a gay dude or another woman.

Drumming In The Mean

Mean Boyfriend“These aren’t your people you know. I’ve known Steve since high school.”

Said by Tim, a guy I called boyfriend at certain times in my life. He made this proclamation many years ago while at a house party of a couple who were specifically my friends.

Scotty, the male part of the couple hosting of the party had been a year ahead of me in high school and we’d spent time together, platonically, doing things outside of school. Lisa, the female part of the couple, and I were in the same graduating class together but didn’t know each too well then. I had gotten to know her quite well and really like her, in the last couple years prior to this party.

I’m sure this statement of my boyfriend’s came from jealousy. Not exactly sure why he’d be jealous, since he had his own close knit set of friends who actually loved him very much. Obviously he didn’t like seeing me so happy, so comfortable, so content.

I remember how much of a shock it felt like when he’d said it, but like most other things he said, that were equally as abusive, I let it go…at least outwardly toward him. Obviously I didn’t truly let it go, given that I’m writing about it now.

I stayed friends with the lot of the folks who’d been at that party for a long time, including the guy my boyfriend so arrogantly announced knowing since high school. Tim had also made a point to let me know that he and I didn’t “travel in the same circles” right after telling me about knowing Steve from school.

The attitude it was said with was that of self-importance and as though he was better than me and his circles were better to travel in than mine were. I was left feeling like I was missing something every time he’d say it.

Well, given the fun I had, despite much of it being through the fog of marijuana and alcohol, I enjoyed my circles.  At the time I thought I wanted him to be a part of those circles, but I think I had more fun with my circles of friends in part because probably he wasn’t there when I was with them most of the time.

And Steve? The man whom my boyfriend made a point to let me know wasn’t “my people?”

Well he and I had many mutual friends and I made even more friends through him. A whole bunch of people I knew camped twice a year at a festival that was by invitation only. Steve was always there. One of the fun things people there did, was have drum circles around fire pits when the amplified music/bands were done playing for the night.

Steve had a djembe that I loved and would borrow for drum circles when he wasn’t using it. I’d call him ‘one of my people’ considering he trusted me enough with a prized and expensive possession of his.

 

So Tim…you were saying?

 

Dismissed At Almost Every Turn

You know what sucks?

To feel judged. It sucks to feel judged. Even worse, it sucks to not even be sure. Because after making yourself vulnerable you get nothing but crickets.

I said too much. I explained myself too much. I trusted too much.  My own damn mistake though since I’d been judged by the person once before. Hello! Duh!

One thing I need to stop doing is ignoring that intuition of mine.

The above was referring to an old ‘friend’ of mine who I told a little bit about my upbringing. I was told by her that I’ve always been a bit on the sensitive side.

I told her because I thought she’d understand. I thought since she’d been molested as a small child by her step-father while her mother let it happen, she’d have some validation for me. But nope. I figured wrong. Seems I always figure wrong.

——————————————————————————————————————

Something else was triggered for me in thinking about this incident with my ‘friend’ so I would like to write a few words of advice from both sides of the couch.

-Careful how you judge people.

-Careful who you tell your personal shit to.

-Careful who you help

-Careful HOW you help: Someone may not have ‘been heard’ by anyone else about something that is really bothering them and then come to you. Maybe some validation is in order and all that is really needed.

Moving on to another case of disregard and feeling dismissed:

A blogger who’s blog was my lifeline at one point, had also become a counselor to me as well. It was all done as a friend kind of thing and I confided a lot of my personal story in her.

I have no problem with doing that, in spite of what seemed to have gone wrong. I still trust that all I shared with her is safe with her. I still feel like she helped me a whole ton and in fact helped me realize and understand the abuse I’d suffered as a child, as well as the abuse I’d been going through at the time of our email exchange.

However, we had a bit of a blow out because I’d felt coerced by her at one point, and had felt that way as a result of something she’d said, once before and had not spoken up. The second time I felt the need to say something. But when I did, I did not have the vocabulary. The word I’d needed to explain myself was coercion. So instead, I’d explained it by telling her I felt the same about her trying to talk me into doing something I’d said I didn’t want to do, as I had in another situation that I had confided in her about.

She became angry and hurt because she thought I was comparing her to this other person and his character, who’s reason for his coercion was actually illegal and perverted.

(My boss’s husband wanted me to talk dirty to him on the phone. Fucking Bill was a pervert. I’d write his last name here if I knew it, but I can’t remember now because my boss never took his last name.)

I got upset (anxious and scared she would ‘abandon’ me) when she got angry and my ability to explain to her that I wasn’t comparing the two of them like they were similar types of people, just trying to communicate my feelings about what she had said to me.

Her fucking words were the same as his.

The perv who’d asked me for phone sex, which I told him NO to, said as I was leaving, “Think about it, it might do you some good too.”

My friend, who’d wanted me to continue participating in a group she’d started on Facebook, after I’d emailed her telling her I no longer wished to participate in it anymore, said the same thing, “You really should stick with it, it would do you good as well as others.”

It’s the same fucking thing. But she could not get past her perception of believing I was comparing her character to the pervs character. She could not comprehend that I was attempting to convey that MY FEELINGS WERE THE SAME IN BOTH SCENARIOS.

After I apologized (an apology I didn’t really owe her) she denied being coercive by saying, what you do is up to you and then said, “I’ve closed the group anyway.”

So, as usual, my concerns are not relevant. My feelings don’t matter and again, I had gotten involved with someone who has no capacity to resolve shit without jumping to wrong fucking conclusions.

I held my tongue (or pen or keyboard) because I thought, well, it’s over and she’s fragile. After all, she’s got PTSD too. I should give her a pass, especially with everything she’s done for me. But the good does not cancel out the shit if the shit is never resolved. Being dismissed SUCKS!

So I say, FUCK YOU! I never owed you an apology. You didn’t listen and it was so frustrating when you didn’t understand I just gave up, let you be right and accepted the role of being wrong, like I always do because, god forbid I rock the boat. Besides, continuing to discuss would make things worse right? It would get on your nerves right?  It’s done so I should just leave it alone right?

So if you’re gonna help others like a therapist or if you’re being helped by someone like a therapist, make sure you get clear where the boundaries are on both sides of the fence. Make sure you are in an emotional place to help as well. It’s better to say you’re not, than to attempt it and then make things worse for yourself and the one in need of help.

In a therapist/patient relationship, the patient should not have to be careful about what he or she says. Hurting the therapist’s feelings is not something the patient should ever really worry about. Because it’s not personal. A therapist should be a safe place to practice setting boundaries and communicating feelings.  Professional therapists understand this.

It’s just not right to position yourself as a counselor and then react in anger at the ‘patient’ when said patient communicates to you, something you perceive to be out of line and then continue to not be open to any other explanation other than what you perceived (which was wrong) in the first place.

In a true therapy situation this would not have been an issue. Someone who has trouble expressing themselves needs a safe place to do so, because of past fears and outcomes of doing so.  If you haven’t completed your own work in healing, it’s probably not a good idea to play therapist.

I’m tired of keeping my mouth shut about this sort of thing. I’m tired of questioning myself into so much doubt that I end up believing that I’m in the complete wrong and that I’m the sole problem. And then I end up so angry I take it out on others who have nothing to do with it.  I’m sick of hiding my head up my ass and putting my tail between my legs.

To continue further, I am not a narc for asking others if I’m behaving appropriately because I’m too emotionally stunted to know. The therapist friend (referred to above) told me that my posting a question on Facebook asking whether I should be bothered by certain behaviors of workmen in our house, is narcissistic on my part.

I’m not a narc for thinking I deserve respect and it’s wrong to scold me for trying to talk out an issue that I wasn’t clear on how to discuss, when you’ve assigned yourself both roles of counselor and friend.

I turned to her about it because no one else was listening to us (Mr B and me). I thought she’d be the one to understand but she minimized it as much as the landlord, the owner of the company and the foreman.  In fact, it was my FB friends who told me I had every fucking right to be pissed off at the way those douche bags were behaving. And then to not be listened and minimized by the one person I thought would get it, was beyond unacceptable.

I get so angry when I think about this. And it’s something that would need resolving if we were to remain friends. Instead, I let it go. Well not really, I just didn’t bring it up anymore. I relinquished and apologized because her feelings mattered more than mine.

I also don’t feel comfortable bringing it up again, now after all this time has passed. After all, it’s water under the bridge right?  If I say something then I’m the asshole.

What? You’re still thinking about that?

Why would I not be since it was never resolved.

Edit July 1, 2017: The relationship as you can probably guess was never the same. I stopped emailing her and in turn she did the same. It was about a year that I emailed again, trying to put the shit behind me. With the apology, she had moved forward but since I didn’t feel I really owed her the apology, the whole thing is still in the air, so to speak.  The emails we exchanged were not about the abuse and after a few exchanges they stopped again. I can only speak for the reasons on my side, which is the anger and unfair outcome of the whole incident I wrote about above. I don’t have the tolerance to be real and true friends with someone when there is shit that is unresolved between us.

And I’m not comfortable bringing it up and attempting to work it out. As she told me once, ironically, pertaining to the disrespectful workmen, “sometimes you just have to let it go.”
(I’m paraphrasing unfortunately. It would take me some time to find her exact quote.)

I’m sick of being the silent one while everyone else feels rather justified in talking out their shit and even sometimes pointing the proverbial finger at me.

Enough is enough. I’m human too…not a fuckin’ doormat!

Bender and Resentment

cannacolaSo I’ve been on a bender. A bender of marijuana smoking for a few weeks.  Or is it just a couple? Honestly I can’t remember. I got a bunch and just kept smoking til it was gone. Well, actually I threw some crumbs away at the end. But it wasn’t much and it certainly wasn’t before the damage was done.

I’m detoxing now, but I’m agitated and crabby. Not only because of the chemical reaction cannabis has on my body and brain, (although that’s some of it) but also because it stalls any progress for myself in life, in healing and I basically check out for the duration. The time goes wasted.

The resentment that’s already there is even more intense. Resentment. I feel it toward Mr. B, despite the fact I’m SUPPOSED to feel grateful. And I feel that too, but sometimes I can’t bear to be around him. Sometimes my mood changes immediately upon his walking through a door, into a room I’m in. Sometimes, I can’t wait to get away from him and I wish I could just pack my shit and leave.

But, I can’t. Well I could, if I wanted to live outside or in my car.  I depend on him. He pays it all, well most of it anyway. He pays the rent and all the bills that go with a house. I’m a mooch. But I have food stamps. So there’s that.

Thing is, he doesn’t eat most of the food I get because he’s at work most of the time. He eats take out although he keeps it as cheap as he can.However, when I’m busy dulling my pain, I also lose any motivation to prepare healthy food and not only am I binging on weed, but I’m binging on junk food too. So if I could get my shit together and not be so self-centered, I could at least provide dinner for both of us.

But that won’t keep him from eating take out during the day and sweet junk food for breakfast.  It’s probably what’s doing the damage to his short term memory, which gets on my nerves. Probably should have compassion, but the resentment tends to get in the way of that, in addition to the fear of knowing we are both getting older.

I’ve done this to myself though. The pot is an escape and sabotages any sort of progress made previously. I continually keep myself in this place of dependence because I have this need to dull the pain. And then I blame him for it. (That’s what resentment is, right?)

Not right, not logical, but there it is. Should I deny it? No matter how twisted it may be, it is how I feel. I know the anger I feel is heavier right now because of the time I just wasted, AGAIN. And I’m actually angry at me, not him. But he’s an easier target.

He is who he is, and no, if I didn’t depend on him I would have been gone a long time ago.

We were once a couple, a long time ago, but haven’t been for a long time. He is still there for me anyway. Maybe it’s because of guilt that he doesn’t throw me out. Maybe it’s because he’s a push-over (for lack of a better word) that he doesn’t tell me to get a job or get the hell out. Maybe he’s got compassion for me and knows I’ve been trying to get disability benefits.

Thing is, we had a short conversation once and he told me he thinks that the pending case is holding me back from really putting the effort to find work. And you know? I agree. I’m “afraid” to make money, for fear I won’t get approved. And I’m afraid that as soon as I make one dime I will need to pay for health insurance leaving me with no money for anything else. Obamacare.

That being said, that doesn’t mean I don’t feel I qualify for disability benefits. I have PTSD from childhood abuse. I suffer from depression and anxiety. I am worried about my reactions to other people’s behaviors or the lack of my ability to stick up for myself in certain situations, possibly making the job another toxic situation.

But I also feel trapped presently in my situation.

I think if the tables were turned, I’d have kicked him to the curb a long time ago if he didn’t find himself employed in some way. I’m sure I would not have kept my mouth shut about it the way he does, if he just sat home on the computer all day, reading and/or watching videos, not getting anything of any meaning accomplished, being unproductive.

I think I also resent him because he isn’t who I want or what I want in a man. And saying that, I think, “Who do I think I am? Because I’m sure not the woman any man would want.”

And I know that sounds like I want a rescuer, a knight in shining armor. But I don’t think that’s all of it. Given my history and upbringing, that could be, probably is part of it. But there’s more I’m sure.

I’m a woman, so maybe I really did want to be in a traditional role of taking care of a home and raising kids, while the man went to work, preferably ran his OWN business and earned the living.

However, that doesn’t mean that I wanted to be owned, controlled or treated like some second class citizen. It means that I wanted to be a partner of someone who has the same values as me. Me doing my part and him doing his.

Instead I was too afraid because of what I saw in my parents’ relationship and marriage. I certainly didn’t want that toxic dysfunction and I was convinced that it would be that way. So I ran from it.

My values weren’t even a thought. They got lost before I even could develop them and understand what a value was. My life became about running from and dodging pain.

I dated unavailable men, pushed them away while simultaneously pulling them back in. Most of them, were high emotion, so it stands to reason that I end up with someone (Mr B) who has almost none. I needed a break I suppose.

However, there was an affair for a couple years, which was an emotional roller coaster ride and in the end triggered the PTSD I already unknowingly had.

So here I am, at 50, with no direction and no career, not even a job. No husband and no kids. I was not only afraid to raise kids because I feared I’d screw them up and abuse them the way my father did me, but I was afraid of the physical pain of giving birth. So I steered clear.

PTSD, depression, anxiety and no clue where to go or take it from here. And I have to ask, “Why even bother now?”

Here I am living with man I don’t love, who has no ambition, working for a company who won’t pay him what he is truly worth. A company he has been loyal to for over 30 years and they pay him a pittance.

He isn’t likely to get much of a raise whether he asks for one or not, and since he’s not big on communication or talking, chances are good he won’t ask anyway.

Then there’s the living situation and the house. He pays rent to his sister. And it’s a decent deal. But he doesn’t generally talk to her about problems that arise with the house because he’s afraid it will turn into a conversation about us getting out or raising the rent. All the times he’s had any conversation about the house and repairs, it’s been because I’ve said something…more than once.

Despite the fact that we are being kicked out because she’s selling, he still is apprehensive to talk to her about repairs. We have a shower that is now filling up like a bathtub. It has given us issues since we’ve moved in. We’ve had it snaked and plunged by plumbers. Mr. B has done his own plunging and clearing it and it continues to be a problem.  But instead of getting the landlord (his sister) on it, he insists on trying the Drano again.

I also wonder if he just thinks we should live with it since we’ll only be here another few months. I say, “Bullshit,” to that.

We’ll be moving in a few months. But we’ve been here for over 12 years and it was always a fight that turned me into a nag whenever something needed repair or attention.  It wasn’t appropriate for me to go to the landlord because she is his family.

He doesn’t like to ask for help and my annoyance with this was triggered this morning when he had his hands full of something and needed to open the freezer door. Instead of asking for me to open it for him, he has this need to do it himself. Granted, this time, he put the thing down he was holding to open the door. But I’ve watched him from across the room, balance stuff in both hands/arms, while he struggles to open the fridge door. It’s annoying.

Moving boxes of things for the yard sale we recently had, he’d pile boxes so high in his arms, he couldn’t see over them, risking a nasty accident. He hits his head all the time because he doesn’t watch what he’s doing. He told me once that he does it at work all the time because he’s always in a hurry. UGH!

Well, there won’t be any hurrying anymore if you’re passed out on the floor. God, I feel like I’m talking to a child sometimes. When you bend down under something, it stands to reason it will still be there when you get up and you’ll need to dodge it to keep from hitting your head. I don’t understand this at all and it is a source of irritation for me.

One morning, years ago, his need to make it out to the porch in one trip with his breakfast put our cat in danger.

I used to take a dog in, sort of a boarding situation, although I didn’t keep the dog in a cage. I got paid pretty good money for it, which is why I did it.  But we needed to have our cat stay next door with Mr. B’s mother. We always cleared it with her before saying yes to taking the dog, and she always let our cat stay with her. She loved animals and no longer had pets of her own, so, she said, it was a treat for her.

Our cat as an indoor/outdoor cat would still go outside when he would stay with her and come back over to hang out on our porch. One morning, as I sat with the dog in the living room, our cat was out on our porch and right at the door. He was meowing because he wanted treats.

Mr. B wanted to eat breakfast on the porch, enjoy the whether and keep our cat company.

I’ll give Mr. B this: The likelihood of the cat running into the house was minimal. He doesn’t like to come in usually if the weather is nice, for fear we won’t let him back out. HOWEVER: the dog who was dangerous to cats was right inside the door while Mr. B was struggling to get out the door as he struggled to balance plate, bowl and mug of hot tea in his hands.

I was holding the collar of the dog, but there is no way I would have been able to hold onto her (the dog) if the cat decided to come in while Mr. B held the door open for the extended amount of time he needed to, in order to get out the door with too much shit in his hands.

I asked him to please do it in two trips and despite his knowing that the dog would not hesitate to attack and kill the cat if he came inside, Mr. B stubbornly refused.

Nothing devastating happened, but I still get furious when I think about this incident. This is a man who is almost 60 and STILL insists on playing with proverbial fire, making the same stupid mistakes that children learn from and his refusal to ask for help when it would make sense to do so, goes right up my ass.

I know. Look who’s talking. I am by no means perfect and I almost want to say I have no right to feel angry at him or resentful. But feelings aren’t right or wrong, right? They just are. Emotions aren’t logical. (My anger and fury about taking the chance with our cats life though, yeah, I gotta right to that one and have no qualms about it.)

Still, I’m responsible for me and if I want and need something else, it’s my responsibility to go get it for myself, not expect him to give it to me. I know this.

Now that we’re both getting older however, and he in particular is starting to show signs of aging as far as his memory is concerned, (although it might help if he stopped hitting his frickin’ head and stopped eating McDonald’s) I feel obligated to stay, till the end, take care of him, since he’s taken care of me for so long.

resentment