Passive Aggressive traits: sabotage

One of the traits of a Passive Aggressive person is sabotage.

Back in my post about Passive Aggressive Personality Disorder traits, I pointed out that one characteristic is sabotage, and D most certainly has it. In fact, this is one of his favorite tactics to use against me, or anyone for that matter.

☑  Sabotaging the action to show anger that they cannot express in words, hidden but conscious revenge, doing things to punish others when they feel wronged.

Now that I finally (finally!) am recognizing what the hell is going on around here, I'm starting to realize that I live in a bilingual household. Our two languages are Normal English (NE) and Passive Aggressive English (PAE.)

Here is a translation guide.
The words and phrases in bold are what comes out of D's mouth and gestures he makes.
The words and phrases in italics are what the words and/or gestures really mean.

Me - Where are all the extra large bath towels? I finished all the laundry and can't find any of them.
D -I don't know.
I know, but I'm not telling you.

Me - No, seriously. I saw you in the laundry room when I was waiting for the machines to finish, and they were in the next pile to wash, but that pile is gone. What happened to the towels?
D - I don't know. I didn't see them.
Tee hee, this is fun.

Me -You had to step over the basket of towels to get over to where I saw you. Did you move them somewhere so you could do whatever you were doing in there?
D - I don't know.
I'm running out of clever answers, but I can keep a straight face if I continue playing dumb.

Me -Where are the towels? There are 5 of them, and they're huge. They don't just disappear or get lost with other laundry like a sock.
D - I don't know.
This is getting boring. 

Me -Where are the towels?
D - Maybe one of the kids took them.
 Let's get the attention off of me. This is getting uncomfortable.

Me -They're dirty. The kids wouldn't touch them with gloves on. You were the only person in there. Where are the towels?
D - You were in there. Maybe you took them.
Or we can blame the wife. She's a bitch, anyway.

Me -(Trying really hard to stay calm,) I was in there because I'm washing laundry. I did not move the towels because they were to be washed next. Where are they?
D - Are you accusing me of taking them?
How dare she!

Me - At this point, you are the only person who would have seen where they went. They were there when I left the room and gone when you left the room.
D - Are you saying I touched them?
The bitch thinks I did something with her precious towels!

Me -Where are the towels?
D - You always leave them right in front of the washer and I have to move them to get my stuff out of the cabinet over the machine.
She's always trying to keep me from getting my stuff. Always blocking me. Never lets me do what I want.

Me - So where are they?
D - (Laughing) The towels? Or my stuff?
She's on to me but it's fun to see her get pissed off. I wonder how long I can drag this out?

Me -Where are the towels?
D - They were in my way.
YOU put them in MY way on purpose, you bitch.

Me -Where are the towels?
D - (Laughing again) I didn't take them.
I didn't take them. I put them somewhere. There's a difference. Besides, it's your fault they're missing.

Me -Where are the towels?
D - I hate those towels. They're big and you can only wash a few at a time.
I hate your towels and I hate that you wash them when you could be getting my clothes done instead.

Me -Where are the towels?
D - And they take forever to dry. That's a waste of electricity.
I hate that I have to pay the electric bill out of my own money. You should pay the bills around here.


Me -Last year when we were broke, and we had an electricity disconnect notice, you decided to buy them for $60 instead of paying the electric bill. Where are the towels?
D - They're gone.
See? This is what you get for making me pay the bills. I have more important things to spend my money on, like pay per view sports and useless iPhone apps.

Me -What do you mean they're gone?
D - I got rid of them.
...to punish you for making me unhappy.

Me -Where are the towels?
D - They're in the trash.
It was the easiest and fastest way I could punish you.

Me -Which trash?
D - On the curb.
And today is trash day. If I had been able to stall you another 5 minutes, they'd be gone forever.

Fuuuuuck, are you kidding me?! I hear the rumble of the garbage truck as I bolt out the door and rescue the towels from the trash man. He gives me a weird look as I haul them back into the house.

Geek Speak

I'm one of those geeky girls to whom technical aspects are part of their innate logic. I understand and talk tech, I think as programmers do, and when my brain should be quiet and contemplative, the gears are grinding and I'm working out mathematical curiosities, geometrics of the physical world, and sorting and cataloging my life experiences in some logical pattern so I can mentally explore how things relate to each other.

Like I said, I'm a geek.

My mental edit function is turned to "Low," so most of the time I blurt out whatever is going on in my head without giving much preface to what I'm thinking. People think I'm funny, which is great, but I'm not trying to be. I'm just blurting out a slice of my stream of conscience. I just happen to have a weird way of seeing the processing my environment.

A couple of years ago, I finally decided to stop dumbing myself down in order to fit in. My language took off, and I left people in the dust with not only what I said but how I said it. People I usually talked to suddenly found they had very little in common with me, and even less to contribute to the conversation, no matter how much I tried to encourage (or force) the friendship to continue.

I'm happier, though. Sure, I have to find a whole new set of friends with whom I can relate, but I'll feel less stress in not always having to change who I am and how I think in order to be part of the group. That's exhausting.

This evening when chatting online with a new friend, I mentioned that I'd love to find someone where I'd be able to talk tech without having to stop and explain myself all the time, and it would also be nice to not have to stop when people's eyes glaze over with the tech talk.

He said he can relate and also tends to talk tech.

Then he asked if I play Words With Friends.

Ok, first of all, I'm not interested in Words With Friends. I'm not so great with anagram-type games and prefer logic. (Yubotu is my favorite - a combination of the classic Battleship and Sudoku.)

Second, I couldn't fit the app on my phone even if I wanted it. When I bought my first and current smartphone, I was on a tight budget and purchased cheaper one without a lot of internal memory, so there isn't much room for apps. It was that or live with the dumbphone for another year.

So I said, "No, I don't play Words With Friends," then went on to explain, "My phone doesn't have room for a lot of apps, and I have to root it to change that. The idea of rooting my phone makes me a little nervous, since I'm not ready to replace it if it bricks. :( "

He replied, "I thought you wanted to meet someone that was reasonably tech savvy? So, how is it that games on your phone are new to you ??? Just asking ...."

As soon as I read his reply, I could feel it floating up through my hair until it was suspended just above my head. That big question mark. You know the question mark I'm talking about.

Let's ignore my mention of wanting to root my phone but being concerned I might brick it. I slightly suspect that this remark caused a flicker of eye glazing as it went right over his head

Ah, well. One does not know what one does not know.

/rant.

le Sigh

Time moves slowly.
I'm getting really impatient.
I am emotionally divorced and over him, and I'm so ready to move forward with my life.  Yet I still must put on a smile and behave as if I'm his obedient property to put on a shelf and ignore.

NPD Traits: Hypersensitive to insults (real or imagined) & being told "No" is a personal attack

 ☑   Hypersensitivity to insults (real or imagined), criticism, or defeat, possibly reacting with rage, shame, and humiliation.
☑  Being told "no" comes off as a personal attack

The silverware argument: 

Me - Hey, when you wash the dishes, I know you sometimes like to fill up the sink and soak stuff overnight, and I end up draining the sink and washing it in the morning. Would you mind leaving the sharp knives out of the sink when you do that, please? I don't like fishing my hand around to pull up the plug when I can't see where the knives are.

D - Fine. I'll stop washing the dishes. You can do them all from now on.

And he stopped washing the dishes.
For a long, long time.

Crazymaking: Ping-Pong Arguments

A while ago, I mentioned that D has shown me every one of the classic Narcissistic Personality Disorder traits.

Recently I described D's PA and NPD traits like small pictures that make up a mosaic of a larger, different picture. Each little thing D has done is one of the little pictures in the mosaic, and until I put it all together I wasn't able to see the big picture of what's going on. Neither were any of my counselors.

Now I see it.
Of course I don't like it, but I see it.

There is one trait that's not specifically included in either list of personality traits, but they are still a form of sociopathic "Crazymaking." I call them "Ping-Pong Arguments."

D is a pro when it comes to Ping-Pong Arguments. If I serve up a negative comment, he volleys it right back to me, whether it makes sense or not.

Here are a few examples that stick out in my mind. On their own, they just look like maybe he's having a bad day, but this is a constant, every day interaction.

(No that's not true; most days he doesn't interact with me at all. On the days he does choose to grace me with his presence, this is how just about every conversation goes.)

(I still get annoyed when I think about this.)

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The towel argument:
Me - Puh-leese pick up your wet towels from the floor. I'm tired of asking. I'm tired of picking them up for you. If they stay on the floor they'll start to stink.
D - I forgot.
Me - I'm tired of that excuse. I installed hooks on the wall right above where drop them on the floor. You could hang it on the hook but instead you choose to drop it on the floor. You're not forgetting. Are you lazy, or a slob or something?
D - You're a lazy slob!! (and he throws the towel on the floor and storms out of the room, disappearing from my life for a few days)

and:

The laundry basket argument:
The laundry machines are in the garage. On laundry days, I'll bring in baskets of clean clothes, fold them in the dining room, put the clothes away, then stack the baskets by the garage door to go out next time I head out there. Many times, at the end of the day, there is a stack of 4 or 5 empty baskets by the garage door. D could take them out, since he usually goes out there empty handed, and has to walk past the laundry area on his way to the man cave.

Me - I noticed you walked past the laundry baskets on your way to the garage all weekend and all day today. Would you please take them out with you and put them in the laundry area next time you head out that way?
D gives me a blank stare.
A few hours later...
Me - You've gone past the baskets twice since I asked you to take them out. Would you please do it on your way out this time?
D glares at me.
A few hours later...
Me - I notice you stepping over the baskets to get out to the garage. Will you please help out by taking the baskets with you?
D - Why don't you take them with you to the garage?
Me - I'm done with laundry and won't be going out there for a few days. You can take them.
D - You can take them, too! (and he storms off empty-handed, slamming the garage door so hard the baskets rattle) 

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General ping pong argument enders:

Me - I'm tired of having this discussion every week and nothing changes. I feel like you don't really care about working things out.
D - You don't care!

or

(D has a habit of shutting his phone off and leaving it in his desk drawer when I'm out of the house. He does this more often on days when I'm running errands or working on a family project and might actually need to get in touch with him. I have my phone on me 24/7, and usually reply to calls and texts within an hour, if not sooner. )

Me - I'm sorry you didn't know about the change in plans. I tried to contact you several times today, but you didn't answer your phone or call me back.
D - You never answer your phone, either!

and the classic:

Me - I'm done. I can't talk about this any more with you.
D - No, you!

(I don't even know what this means, but he's yelled this kind of nonsense at me so many times I've stopped trying to make sense of it)

------------------------

There are other stories that relate to this, but they unfortunately ended up with his passive aggressive method of punishing me for wronging him. One pisses me off every time I think about it to the point where I find that I'm grinding my teeth. The other story upsets me so much that if I think about it I spend the rest of the day crying. I'll get into those stories another time. I'm not in the mood to get myself that worked up right now.

NPD trait: Lack of Empathy

So earlier I mentioned that D has shown me every one of the classic Narcissistic Personality Disorder traits.

More recently I described these traits like small pictures that make up a mosaic of a larger, different picture. Each little thing D has done is one of the little pictures and until I put it all together I wasn't able to see the big picture of what's going on. Neither were any of my counselors. Now I see it. I don't like it, but I see it.

Several of the little pictures that make up the big picture involve D's complete absence of empathy.

☑  Lacks empathy - sees no wrong in personally attacking others, or completely ignoring you
☑  Disregards the feelings of others, and have little ability to feel empathy.
☑  Inability to recognize or identify with the feelings, needs, and viewpoints of others.

Here are a few examples that stick out in my mind. They're still painful to think about.

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1998 or so - My right foot started swelling and it hurt between my toes. It hurt to walk. Within a day or two, I discovered an open sore between my toes where it hurt so much. By now my foot was so swollen that I couldn't put my shoes on. I called the Dr about it and was told to go to Urgent Care. Driving hurt and I was scared, so I asked D to drive me to the doctor.

"Ok, but I'm making dinner right now. Can we go when dinner is over?" he asked.
"Fine."

I went to sit down and didn't see D crack open a beer and start drinking as he cooked. By the time dinner was over, he was on his 3rd beer.
"Doctor? Foot? Urgent care?" I asked.
"Oh, I forgot. I've been drinking. I can't drive now. You're going to have to drive yourself."

Fast forward - I have a weird, aggressive bacterial infection and the doctor put me on a series of antibiotics. My foot hurts so badly I can't walk at all. I have to crawl on my hands and knees to get to and from the bathroom. Even that hurts, and I cry all the time from the pain. I'm off work until I can walk again.

D watches me crawl, he watches me cry, and gets upset when I don't take care of the kids or make dinner. I suffer through weeks of pain, several types of antibiotics, pain pills, ace bandages around my foot, several doctor appointments, and D unwilling to help me at home. No help hobbling to the bathroom, no comforting me when I'm crying from pain, no extra help with the kids (aged 3-5.) He's busy watching tv. Or sleeping.

Years later I asked, "Why didn't you help me back then?"
"Oh. I thought you were crawling around on the floor for attention."

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2002 - We bought a new car. A week later, the kids and I were driving home from the library when a truck blew a red light and rammed into us. The truck was totaled, and amazingly our car was drivable. Totally munched in on the passenger side, but I could drive it home. The guy in the truck walked away from the accident and the kids and I were shook up but otherwise fine. I didn't have a cell phone at that time, so couldn't call D to tell him about the crash.

When we got home, I parked the car in my usual spot, which meant the damaged side was visible from the front door. As I pulled up, D happened to step out the front door. He took one look at the damage and said, "Do you have a place that can fix that fast?"
"Yeah, I figured I'd ask our insurance when I call in the claim."
"Ok. As long as it's done by next week."
(We were planning to go out of town next week.)
As I started to tell him the kids and I were ok, he turned and walked into the house.
I stood there with my mouth hanging open, trying to process the abrupt end to our conversation.

An hour later he and the kids and I had dinner, sitting around the kitchen table all normal, like it was just another ordinary day.

He never did ask if any of us were ok. It's been 12 years, and he never asked, not even once.

--------------------------------------

2004 to 2012 - My back hurt. Each year it got worse and worse. Over the course of 8 years, I tried massage, yoga, acupuncture, chiropractic, physical therapy, and finally an MRI showed that I had a bulging disc in my back putting pressure on a nerve. I was feeling nerve pain.
This is about when our family had the accident. My back, while it still hurt like hell, had to wait for everyone to recover from their injuries, especially D, who had life-threatening injuries and needed round the clock care. From me.

Finally it was my turn to take care of myself again, so I tried nerve block injections and ended up on a steady diet of pain meds so I could function somewhat until I could have surgery to fix the problem. By the time surgery rolled around, I was in chronic pain, my physical range of motion was limited, and my lifestyle had shrunk to getting out of bed, dragging myself to work, dragging myself home, and collapsing from the exhaustion of trying to live another day through the awful pain. I was depressed from the chronic pain. I couldn't sleep. It sucked. It really sucked.

I scheduled my surgery and took D with me to the pre-op appointment so he was in the loop about what to expect. As we left the appointment, D asked me, "How far are you going with this?"
"How far am I going with what?"
"I get it. You're acting hurt. You got my attention. You can stop it now."
"What are you talking about?"
"You're pretending to be hurt for attention from me. Or you're trying to get out of doing stuff. I get it. So when are you going to cancel the surgery?"

After I had my fit and calmed down a little, he said, "Oh, I didn't think you were actually in pain all these years. I thought you were just lazy."

Surgery day. They fixed the problem but I had some permanent nerve damage in one of my hands that my body may or may not be able to recover. Nerve recovery is an amazing thing. I never knew the body could reroute nerve pathways to reconnect damaged connections. Anyway, I had some paralysis from the damage. My attitude was: I'm no longer in pain, so I'll learn to live with the paralysis. It was a trade-off I was happy to make, and the only frustrating part was forgetting that I had some limitations with my movement. I'd pick up something with my bad hand, forgetting that it couldn't squeeze shut, and I'd drop stuff. I dropped stuff all the time.

One day, about 2 or 3 weeks after my surgery, I asked D if he would help carry some groceries in from the car for me.
"Why?" he asked. He was busy on Facebook and didn't want to be bothered.
"Because I can't hold the bags with my bad hand," I explained.
"What? What bad hand?"
"The paralyzed one. My gimpy hand. You know, from surgery."
"Are you serious?"
"Serious about what?"
"Your hand."
"What on earth are you talking about?" I asked.
"Your hand is really paralyzed from surgery?"
I stared at him. "You were with me when the doctor said it is paralyzed from nerve damage and might not recover," I said slowly. "I drop stuff all the time. I can't turn on sink faucets with that hand. Showering is a challenge. Doing my hair is nearly impossible. You know my hand is paralyzed, so I don't know what you're asking about."
"Oh, I thought you were faking all that stuff," he answered.

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2012 to now - D spends the majority of his time out in the attached garage, watching tv, surfing the internet, napping. It's his man cave. The way our house is laid out, he has to walk past the dining room and living room to get to the bathroom. The living room tv is right next to the door to the garage, so if I'm watching tv, he and look right at each other when he comes in the house.

If I'm watching tv and he comes in to go to the bathroom, he does not make eye contact. He walks right past me as if I'm not there. There is never a response from him if I say hello or good morning or what would you like for lunch or anything. I don't exist. If I happen to me in his path from the garage to bathroom, he pushes me out of his way as if I'm a door.

But no eye contact, mind you. Or words. Just a push. Sometimes he even knocks me off balance and I almost land on my butt.

This is the only time he touches me: when I'm in his way.

Watching that image above makes my heart hurt. That's exactly what he does to me.

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Last week - I went with him to his doctor appointment and while we were waiting for his doctor to come into the exam room, I started to have an anxiety attack. Chest pains, couldn't catch my breath. I knew what it was, because I've been having them so often lately, but D is rarely around me (despite both of us being in the house all day, every day) so he didn't know what was going on.

"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Having trouble getting air," I gasped as I leaned forward and tried to yawn to get a big breath of air deeper into my lungs.
"Oh,"  he said and went back to playing solitaire on his phone.
I stood up and started taking slow deep breaths to try to get more air.
"What are you doing now?"
"Trying to breathe. I can't breathe."
"Oh," he said again.
He went back to his game.






The more I watch the image (above) of the tennis ass pushing aside the judge, the more pissed off I become.
It really hits a nerve.

Emotional Abuse is invisible... unless you know how to see it.

What my wall would say is:

I'm thinking about it...

I forgot.

Oh.

" ... "

I don't know why you got so upset when I didn't plan anything for your birthday.

" ... ... ... "

What the hell do you want?

I can't even think of what else my wall would say. Most of his abuse is nonverbal.

Other than the words above, my wall would be mostly blank, but it would be pitted with holes, the paint would be smudged and smeared, and a closer look at a flaw in the finish would reveal an old beer receipt that was kind of painted over.

Companys A, B, C... and the interaction with D

Week two of the new job.

Tonight, D saw my work ID badge in the dish by the front door, picked it up, and held it out to me.
"Yours?"

My name and picture are on it.
"Yes," I replied.

"Oh," he said as he returned it to the dish, then went back into the garage.

About 10 minutes later, it dawned on me.
I work for Familiar Company A, a resource company who leases employees to other companies. My job is an assignment to a contract position in Unknown Little Company B's offices. Company B leases office space from Gigantic Conglomerate Company C.

Company A writes my paycheck. I am Company A's employee.

My work badge is for Company C, since it's a key card.

I chuckled as I realized that D thinks I got a coveted job with Company C.
Big, grand Company C with the fabulous benefits package.
Gigantic world-recognized Company C where getting any job there means beating out tough competition.

I'm not gonna correct him. He has never asked about the job, never congratulated me on getting the job, never said squat about the job, I'm not going to bring up the conversation since he clearly doesn't care. Why bring on the aggravation to myself, behaving as if he cares only to be deeply disappointed when he proves he doesn't care?

Let him think I work for Company C.
Then when I don't get the well known fabulous benefit package offered by Company C, I'll just let him think I didn't sign him up for the fabulous benefits. He probably won't even ask.

I used to think withholding this kind of information was wrong, and would have never purposely misled D, but at this point I can see that he really doesn't give a shit. Chasing after him to make sure he understands I work for Company A, not C, and explaining the whole situation, then encouraging him to show he cares and being hurt when he pokerfaces me... I'm not playing that game any more.

I'm done.
Game over.