Wednesday, May 28, 2014

(insert emotion here) 20th Anniversary

Today is my anniversary with D. We have been married 20 years.*

D, while I know that there is no point in even hoping that you will say "I love you," and even though you have not acknowledged the day with a gift, flowers, a card, or even a polite "Good morning," this song is my special gift for you.




*I'll be wearing a black armband to commemorate the occasion.

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

Post-anniversary note:
At about midday, he was standing near me when I was checking the calendar for the date of an appointment I'd had earlier that week. He casually commented, 
"Oh. Today is the 28th. Happy Anniversary."

I braced myself for ... something. Positive or negative, I found myself flinching as he spoke. He was either going to try to be all nicey-nice about it and I'd have to force myself to not get my hopes up, or he was going to be indifferent. Either way hurts because there's no love left, and we shouldn't even be acknowledging any kind of anniversary at this point. 

We should have divorced years ago. 

He was indifferent as he spoke.
He said it with the same emotion that most people would use when they say, 
"The dog is overdue for a trip to the groomer." 
Or, "You should probably throw out that container of mystery mold that's sitting in the back of the fridge."

I shrugged it off.  
He didn't say anything about my lack of response, but went about his day as if life was good and normal. 

Totally indifferent. 

It's hard for me to acknowledge any special dates any more. Valentine's Day, my birthday, Mothers' Day, anniversary... I know if I comment to him about the special day, he shrugs it off. If I try to treat them with the importance I feel they deserve, he will try harder to ignore them - and will completely ignore me, then go about his day as if nothing's wrong in the world.

Either way, it's like he's stabbing me in the heart.

    

Monday, May 26, 2014

Poking the Beast

I spent the day deep cleaning the kitchen.

The whole day.

Our house is old and the kitchen hasn't been renovated since the 1960's (or earlier) which makes it really hard to keep clean. My own depression makes it hard for me to find motivation to do any deep cleaning. This was a huge project that was long overdue.

I got on my hands and knees and scrubbed the baseboards and corners with a scrub brush. I pulled out the fridge and stove and cleaned under and behind them. I cleaned out under the sink. Random drips and splatters were scrubbed up with an SOS pad. The butcher block island got relocated for better access to the fridge, windows washed, pantry cleaned out and reorganized...

We don't have a dishwasher, so in between washing the floor and scrubbing other things, I washed a few sinks full of dishes - although they're not done. The dishes are never completely done. (Grumble...)

During the cleaning project, D was in and out of the kitchen, making himself lunch while I worked (just for himself, not anyone else), and refilling his water bottle. He didn't offer to help, and I didn't ask. 
Just a side comment here. In the "good old days," whenever he'd see me being domestic - cleaning and cooking and otherwise doing nurturing homemaker-y things - he'd come up behind me and give me a kiss or hug. I loved knowing that he appreciated me taking care of him and our home. This eventually gave way to him squeezing my ass as he walked past, which I still interpreted as appreciation. Now he barely looks at me and when he acknowledges my existence in these situations it feels like he is sending me the message of "It's about time you get off your fat ass and do something productive around here." Productive, hah. Never mind that my world came to a screeching halt after the accident for 3 straight years while I nursed him back to health. And worked a full time job. And maintained the household by myself. And paid all the bills.

While cleaning the pantry, I found a packet of Tandoori seasoning that I bought a year ago and decided to make Tandoori chicken for dinner. At 6pm I stopped cleaning and started working on dinner. Things were going well, the house smelled good, and when the rice was nearly done, D meandered into the kitchen.

He stood to the side and watched me as I cooked.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing. Just watching," he answered.

The sauce was fine, but needed something. More salt? Acid? Sweet? I grabbed a spoon, swirled it through the sauce, and held it out for him to taste.
"What do you think? Does it need anything?"

He looked down his nose at the spoon as he backed away. "I don't want to ruin my dinner."


I threw the spoon at the stove (it landed in the burner - oh yay, more cleaning for me), "What the fuck are you talking about?!"

He was silent. He poked the beast with a sharp stick on purpose.

"What the hell do you think I'm cooking? How is one taste going to ruin your dinner? Are you planning on doing your own thing and don't want THIS dinner to ruin your own personal dinner plans?"

He had pissed off the wife and raised her blood pressure. Mission accomplished.
He started to walk out, so I used my training* and stopped him in his tracks.

Like flipping a switch, I calmed down and sweetly said, "Oh honey, are you getting Alzheimer's?" 

He froze, smiled, then laughed. "Alzheimer's? Where do you get that from?"

"Well I've noticed that you have been saying things lately that just make no sense. Think about what you just said about not wanting to taste dinner because you don't want to ruin your dinner. I think there's something wrong. I'll call the doctor first thing tomorrow morning and we'll get that checked out right away."

His face fell.
I'm learning.

"No no no, I'm ok," he assured me.
"Then what did you mean about not wanting to ruin your dinner?" I asked.
"Nothing." He grabbed a clean spoon and dipped it in the sauce, then tasted. "It's fine."
(I wished he had grabbed the searing hot spoon instead.)

-----------------------------------------------------
*My training is where I'm learning how to do to him what he does to me. After years of gaslighting and covertly manipulating my emotions and ability to make decisions, I'm starting to turn it around and do the same thing back to him.

No, it doesn't feel good, but it neutralizes the feeling of him sticking a knife through my heart. It also helps to wipe away any feeling of "I wish he was nice to me," or "Maybe we can still work things out." I'm done having my heart broken and smashed to pieces. Turning his shit around on him is like emotional duct tape for me.

Sadly, this kind of thing hardens my heart so I won't be tempted to wimp out when it comes to moving away and divorcing him.




Friday, May 23, 2014

Finding Post-PTSD Me

As an advocate for my own mental health, I have prescribed a regular dose of dancing as my therapy.
Yes, dancing.
Square dancing.

Last August I made the shocking realization that I'm a survivor of domestic abuse. Even more surprising to me was learning that emotional abuse is just as damaging as physical abuse. It was a gigantic holy crap moment for me.

Since then, I have spent countless hours online, researching my situation and learning how I can get out of my situation and begin healing.

A few months ago I stumbled across the idea that I may have PTSD from both the ongoing abuse and the trauma from The Hell Years a few years ago. I blogged about it when I mused about the probability of having PTSD and clinical evaluation for it at "Do I Have PTSD?" The PsyD who tested me concluded that I didn't have it. Today, now that Hell has cooled off and now that I know better, I disagree with the good doctor. I believe I probably do have PTSD.

It would probably do me a world of good if I treated myself as if I have PTSD, so I can begin to heal the damage deep inside of me from 20+ years of emotional abuse and The Hell Years.

For over a year now, I have been job hunting (some temp-to-hire jobs fell through, so I've been working off and on, but nothing permanent. Yet.)
My plan had been:
  1. Get a permanent job.
  2. Find an apartment across town
  3. Move
  4. Reinvent myself
  5. Start Living with a capital L.

Last week the plan has had a dramatic change. A square dance followed by a simple comment from the kids made me see that #5 and 4 are the key to me feeling happier overall, which obviously will improve my general outlook on life and my attitude. I know this will lead to my ability to make a better first impression on everyone. It wouldn't surprise me in the least if this new attitude shift helps me land a job.

My plan now is:
  1. Start Living with a capital L.
  2. Re-Discover myself
  3. Get a permanent job.
  4. Find an apartment across town
  5. Move
Ok, the new #1 is a challenge, since I am broker than broke, but I found a way that costs only about $7 a pop, and if I only do it once a month, it's a start.

Here's what changed:

Since my "Do I Have PTSD?" blog post two months ago, I have been pushing myself to do things that make me happy. And allowing myself to do things that make me happy. The thoughts, "D wouldn't want to do that with me," and "I can't have fun without including D," have been completely absent from my mind. Yes, those used to be the limiting thoughts that always kept me home.
  • I went to my girlfriend Claire's house for coffee and to catch up on each others' lives. 
  • I took the kids out to lunch (using gifted money and a coupon.)
  • The kids and I took a day trip to the mountains. 
  • We even went to a square dance party (why not?) and had a blast.

For the last year, I've been job hunting and holding my breath. The old #1.

No more.

After so many years living in my little cave - my self-imposed prison - I decided I need to stop waiting for my new life to happen and start living now. Living with a capital L.The new #1 on my to-do list.

(No wonder I'm miserable, right?)
  • After having coffee with Claire, I felt renewed. 
  • After sushi with the kids I was feeling bright and happy (and really really full. I always eat one plate too many at track sushi bars.) 
  • After running up to the mountains for the day I felt like I could finally breathe. 
I was starting to feel good. Hmm, maybe I'm on to something.

At that birthday party I danced my ass off with several partners (I didn't know any of them), and after the second dance the kids said, "Mom, you actually look really happy for once."

That was it. No more waiting. I'm going to start doing things that make me happy, NOW. I like who I am when I'm doing happy things, and it makes the kids happy to see mom happy. It's so simple it's hard to believe I didn't see it before. My old to-do list was backwards.

As much as I can afford to, I'm going to Live now in the way I had envisioned Living in the future, after I leave D. One of the biggest changes I'm making is dancing. I danced when I was growing up (on stage and in ensembles) and miss it more than I realized. Square Dancing is just $7 every Thursday night at the VFW. I'm going. It's a form of therapy I can afford (I still don't have health insurance, despite Obamacare) and I know it'll help me recover from my depression, low self esteem, abuse... and "P-PTSD." (Probable PTSD)


Today while researching PTSD so I can learn more about how to heal from PTSD on my own, I read several eye-opening posts on Michele Rosenthal's blog Heal My PTSD, and these two grabbed my complete attention:

Huh.
Looks like I'm on the right track.
Feels good to find this kind of validation for what I've just started to figure out on my own.
Thank you, Michele! ♥

The icing on the cake appeared on the homepage of Surviving a Narcissist, where Lisa E. Scott writes about healing,
 We must lighten up, relax and go easy on ourselves. Many of us find it easy to have compassion for others, but have very little for ourselves. It never occurs to us to feel it for ourselves. Living life with an unconditional love for ourselves changes everything...


By learning from the moments in life, we become more compassionate and can aspire to live in the now. We can relax and open our heart and mind to what is right in front of us in the moment. We see, feel and experience everything more vividly. This is living. Now is the time to experience enlightenment. Not some time in the future. Keep in mind, how we relate to the now creates our future.

Her last sentence popped out at me in big bold neon letters, and it's stuck in my head.
Keep in mind, how we relate to the now creates our future.
Yep. Treat myself as if I do have PTSD, enjoy life, get out of the cave, find things I want to do or be when I'm a happy single girl... and dance. And do it now to build my future.
(And it'll probably help tremendously with the job hunt.)

PS: For some reason, this blog post was really hard to write. I feel it's disjointed and hard to follow, but that's how my head feels today. Scattered. Hard to keep the flow of my thoughts together. Flighty. Over-caffeinated. Edgy. Almost low seratonin-y, like years ago before I started on Prozac. (And I have to completely revise my resume tonight for a really great job posting that just came up! Sheesh; wish me luck.) If it's hard to read and follow, I'm sorry. I don't usually write on days I feel like this, and after 2 hours of working on this, what you see is the best I can do. Bleh.

Thursday, May 22, 2014

The Hell Years

Now and then I refer to The Hell Years.

The Hell Years began with a really bad freak accident about four years ago, followed by our family's ongoing physical and emotional recovery, and the devastating financial aftermath from being off work and having all the bills pile up.

We had very little emotional support, I lost all my friends who weren't able to fathom what we were going through, and I feel like I struggled alone against debilitating depression to get out of bed each day so I could care for my family and fight to prevent becoming homeless when we couldn't pay the rent.

It was really awful - the shock of what happened, the shock of seemingly normal things going very wrong, the shock of being told "We don't know if our team of surgeons can save them," and the shock of seeing more of the insides of someone's body than I ever wanted to see... and exactly one year after the accident, history repeated itself almost event by event. It was bad.

(Although one good thing about the repeat trauma is we knew what to expect. Didn't make it any easier, but we were able to call 911 sooner when things started going wrong again.)

I don't want to go into specifics in case D researches anything related to it and stumbles across this blog. Just compare it to what people in the middle ages experienced when disease or warring tribes wiped out their small village. Throw in few cases of Seppuku, and that'll be comparable to what we went through.

Wednesday, May 21, 2014

A note about post Tags

I changed my tags a little.

The tags in ALL CAPS are characteristics of people with Narcissistic Personality Disorder and/or Passive Aggressive/Negativistic Personality.
BEING TOLD NO
ENTITLEMENT
GASLIGHTING
HYPERSENSITIVE
INEFFICIENT
ISOLATION
LACK OF EMPATHY
NPD
PA
PHYSICAL PAIN
PROCRASTINATION
PTSD
SABOTAGE
THE SILENT TREATMENT
The tags in Title Case are other characteristics of emotional abuse* and my own names for other characteristics that D has.
Chinese Water Torture
Crazymaking
PingPong
The tags in lower case are my personal feelings and concerns.
abuse
affair
anxiety
blaming
breathe
counseling
cruelty
dating
depression
employment
fear
feeling stuck
game over
gratitude
happy happy
healing
law of attraction
leaving
love
lucky
me
money
my escape plan
panic
quotes
secrets
sex
steps
stress
support
(Keep in mind that the tag lists above are only current at the time I published this post. But you get the idea.)

So why go through the trouble to organize my tags like this?

Answer #1: Because I have a need to keep everything neat and organized. Maybe it's my desire to have some control over my environment. Maybe I have a teensy bit of OCD peeking out to say hello. (We all have little whispers of "personality defects" in us. Some just have loud shouts of these "defects," and hopefully are seeking treatment to keep them down to a manageable level.)

Answer #2: When I was researching all of this - starting with "why am I so frickin' unhappy" - and started reading about NPD and PA spouses, I wanted to read real life examples of what each characteristic was like. Many of the blogs and sites I found included situations with physical violence and I just couldn't relate to that. I'm hoping that if someone like me is reading about emotional abuse, trying to figure out if that's what is making them so frickin' unhappy, they will have an easy way to click on a tag to read story after story about that specific characteristic. Emotional abuse is so subversive that we survivors of don't realize it until we've been exposed to it for years and years.


*Because I experience emotional abuse, I don't know if these terms - such as "Crazymaking"- apply to other forms of domestic abuse. It's not fair to other survivors if I generalize.

Monday, May 19, 2014

PA & NPD Traits: Inefficient on purpose & being told "No" is a personal attack

PA Trait: Being inefficient on purpose, contradictory and inconsistent behavior, performing in a manner that is not useful and sometimes even damaging.

NPD Trait: Being told "no" comes off as a personal attack
-----------------------------------------


Our current home has no dishwasher. When we moved in, D started using the sink strainer when he washes dishes.

From the beginning, I asked him to take it out of the sink when he's done, because it always re-seats in the drain. Sometimes he removes it from the sink; other times he leaves it in the sink. Either way, when he finishes the dishes, he then rounds up more dirty dishes and places them in the sink, covering up the strainer. When the strainer is in there, the weight of the dishes pushes the strainer down, blocking the sink drain. By the time I realize the sink is stopped up, it has started to fill with dirty water and I have to fish my hand around in the dirty water (sometimes navigating sharp knives) to pull the strainer out. I hate this. I don't have a problem with getting my hands dirty, but if I'm in the middle of cooking, unstopping the sink requires I stop what I'm doing, unstop the sink, wash my hands, then proceed with what I was doing. Other times, there are sharp knives lurking in the dirty water. Regardless, I have asked him nicely for the last two years, and he still shrugs and says,
"I forgot."

On Monday, he did the dishes, left the strainer in the sink, put a cutting board over it, stacked dirty dishes on top (raw chicken, grease, who knows what else) and walked away. By the time Kid#1 and I had washed our hands and set up the coffee maker for the morning, we realized the sink was stopped up again.

Oh, look. The sink is full of water again. Hooray.
I was exhausted that night, and called D over to pull the strainer out so the sink would drain. He caused the sink to fill, he can cause it to empty.

He gave me a look from hell, then walked over to the sink, pulled the drain, threw the strainer on the counter, and dried his dirty hands on the kitchen towel. As he walked out of the kitchen, he reached over to where Kid#1 was making their supper, and D tried to take some of their food with his dirty hands. Kid#1 yelled at him and told him not to touch anything because his hands are dirty.

Yep - He gave his own kid the same look from hell, shrugged, and walked off in a big huff.

I'm not only irritated about the strainer and his attitude, but the dirty hands thing makes me even madder. He has a culinary arts degree. He is food safety certified. He's worked with clean kitchen environments and food sanitation for decades, so he knows better. I also have food safety training and know that he contaminated the kitchen towel, giving us all the chance to get salmonella poisoning. In the past, I have seen him dirty the towel the same way, then try drying clean dishes on it (contamination risk!) I called him on it. He gave me a dirty look and stormed off those times, too.

He knows better, but he does it anyway.

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Wanted: Gentle Reassuring Hug

Last night I got a text from my brother. He took Gram to the ER and they admitted her to the hospital. 

Gram and I are very close. She was my babysitter when I was little, and was always involved in my life. I'm lost without her.

And now she's very sick and I don't know what to do. She lives two hours away, so it's not so easy for me to hop up there to be with her. My brother is there, and she's having tests and procedures and more tests. She doesn't want me to visit because she's too busy with doctors. She knows I've got a job interview tomorrow, anyway. Ok, fine. But I want to be there. Maybe I can hit the road tomorrow after the interview.

This morning, I was moping around the house when my brother called with an update. She was moved to the ICU overnight but is stable, but they'll probably keep her another day because they don't know what's wrong yet. Considering my lengthy hospital experiences, I'm guessing day one was to stabilize the problem, day two will be to run tests & wait for results, day three will be trying to fix the problem, then day four is observation. I'm not complaining. I'd rather have her home healthy, rather than kicked out too early with potential problems.

I'm still worried about her. Actually, I'm almost in a panic over this.

After I got off the phone with my brother, D asked if I'm ok.

"No," I quietly said. "Gram's in the ICU."
"Oh," he replied. "Do you want me to make you breakfast?"
"Yeah. Make whatever."

He made me bacon and eggs, then left me alone for the rest of the day.

I wish he'd ask what's wrong, if I've had an update, how's she doing, do I want to see her, etc.

It's too much to expect a reassuring hug from him.

It physically hurts my heart to sit here and know if I ask for a hug or any sign he cares, he'll make me beg for it, then walk away when I get upset. I'm not playing his game. It hurts either way. 

Either he doesn't know how to care about someone else's problems or doesn't want to be bothered with them. He is incapable of showing he gives a flying rat's ass. It's inhuman, in my humble opinion.

Monday, May 12, 2014

Mother's Day 2014

Happy Mother's Day (yesterday) to all the moms struggling to survive in emotionally abusive relationships.
I understand how much bullshit you have to put up with day in and day out and know how painful it is to constantly give of yourself as if you're a single parent and not have your sacrifices appreciated by the partner who should cherish you.
I get it.
You rock, you know that?
I love you. Give yourself a hug.
He doesn't deserve you.

Mother's Day was bittersweet for me.

As the day started, I sat on the couch with my morning cup of coffee. D walked out of the garage, past me on the couch, and into the kitchen. He didn't look at me or acknowledge me in any way whatsoever. A few minutes later, I walked into the kitchen to refill my coffee. D was in the doorway and moved to the side so I could pass. He avoided eye contact. Actually, he avoided looking directly at me altogether. As I fixed up my coffee, he disappeared into the garage.

The rest of the day was wonderful. The kids and I went to church, out to lunch, went to an outdoor store where my delicate flower of a child showed me some white water rafting gear they were saving up to buy. This kid had been on a few outings with a friend's family and has fallen madly in love with the sport. It was so much fun to see them all excited about this. I rarely get to see this kid so excited about something, and my normally quiet and reserved child talked up a storm about technical details with the clerk. While there, we learned the store is hiring, so excited kid grabbed an application. I'm clueless about rivers and rafting, so excited kid showed me around the store, explained items and accessories, and shared their love for this adrenaline-pumping sport with me. As we walked out of the store, excited kid said,

"Mom, I can't wait to take you to the river tours up in the mountains so we can go rafting together."

Hearing that was one of the best Mother's Day gifts I've ever received.

After we got home, rafting kid pulled up a bunch of rafting videos and showed me more about the sport. I get it now. Now I can't wait to go rafting this summer.

We had had a huge late lunch, so suppertime came and went and nobody was hungry. I puttered around the house, sorting stuff to donate and packing up stuff I'm keeping - I want to be ready to move out the second I get a job offer. While I was moving stuff around, my mom called. She lives out of state and announced that she's coming up to visit for a week in June. Yay!

At about 9pm I heard some banging in the kitchen.

"Is everything ok?" I called out to the kids.

"Yeah, it's dad in the kitchen. He's mad."

"Why? What's his deal?" I asked.

"He asked if anyone had made dinner yet. We said no, and he got mad."

"Oh. So he's cooking something as loud as he can?"

"Yeah. And sulking. He can cry more."

Ah, the wisdom of kids who clearly see that dad does not treat mom with respect, and certainly does not treat her with love.
(I do try to be respectful of him when talking about him to/in front of the kids. No matter how much I'm hurting or feeling dead inside, these are my feelings, not the kids'. I need to remain as neutral as possible because I don't want to poison their own feelings for their dad.)

After about 15 minutes, D hollered, "Food!"

I walked into the kitchen to see what he had been up to. There was a plate of cooked hamburger patties on the counter. D had already taken his food into the garage. I didn't see him for the rest of the night.

This morning I was up early. Made coffee, checked email, started applying to more job openings, and D came through the dining room.

He brightly greeted me with "Good morning!"

"Uh huh," I responded.
Psychopath.

He looked at my computer screen and commented on what I was reading, asked about the paperwork on the desk next to me, chatted about the pets, the sunshine, the birds chirping outside, his car, last night's sports...
Asshole.

I ignored him as much as possible.
I'm done.

If he can't acknowledge my existence on Mother's Day, then I don't see any reason to acknowledge his existence today or any other day.

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Narcissistic Traits: Sense of entitlement and expectation of special treatment

One of the traits of a Narcissistic person is a sense of entitlement and expectation of special treatment.

Back in my post about Narcissistic Personality Traits, I pointed out that one characteristic is expecting special treatment, and D most certainly has it. In fact, this is something the kids and I see (and hate) almost daily.

☑  Has a sense of entitlement and expectation of special treatment and that others will automatically go along with what he or she wants. Has obsessive self-interest.

Here's an example of something that has happened so often I practically expect it.


I have a cup of tea every night just before bedtime. Everyone in the house knows this.

Tonight, as often happens, my tea was rudely hijacked.


A little while ago I put cold water in the tea kettle, set it on the stove to boil, then put a teabag in my cup. I left my cup on the stove next to the teakettle, and went to talk to the kids in the dining room as I waited for the water to boil.

D was doing stuff in the kitchen, then went back into the garage.

We have a whistling teapot, and I only boil enough water for myself, so it usually whistles in about 4 minutes.

After 10 minutes, I realized the kettle hadn't whistled.

I walked into the kitchen to see the stove off, the kettle spout flipped open, and my cup sitting next to it with only a dry teabag in it.

The kettle was empty.
Where the hell is my hot water?

Apparently, D pulled it off the stove just as it started to boil, made himself a cup of tea, and left.

WTF?

I'd like to stop and comment here that normal people, if they make this mistake once or even twice, and it's kindly pointed out to them, will most likely never make this innocent mistake again.

This has been nicely brought to D's attention for the past 10+ years, each time with growing frustration, and he always "forgets" or "didn't know I wanted the boiling water."

Again - WTF?

Let me ask you - why on earth would I start water to boil with my cup and teabag on the stove if I didn't want the stupid water??
Ggrrrrr!! 

You know, I used to keep quiet when this shit happens and figured I'd just shut up and put up to keep peace in the family.

Those days are over. I'm done with the put up and shut up attitude.

I'm so pissed off right now I can feel my heart pounding.

Why am I letting myself get so worked up over this, I wonder?
I know why. Of course, I know why.

Because I'm leaving. He runs hot and cold. Pleasant then cruel. There's enough pleasant to make me forget how awful the cruel is, which is one of the reasons it's so stinkin' hard to leave. I notice myself now subconsciously getting upset about all the little tricks he pulls, I call him on his shit, I yell at him when he disrespects me or the kids, and I question his inane tactics to "punish" me (like when he threw the expensive bath towels in the trash.)

I never used to do this. I stayed quiet, picked up the pieces (which sometimes included soothing a hurt child's feelings,) internalized my anger, and let him continue walking all over us.

I'm engaging in a disruptive scene when he acts up. I'm letting him passively pick a fight.

I'm giving myself reason to leave.
I'm doing this to relieve my own guilt for wanting to leave.
I'm doing this so I can justify why I left after I'm gone.

I'm doing this to save myself.

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

Epilogue, 10 minutes after this was originally posted:
After writing this post and calming myself down, I walked into the garage to confront him about the tea.
There he was, asleep on his (smelly) couch, with a full cup of still-warm tea sitting on the coffee table in front of him.



Yes. It's just a frickin' cup of tea. It's just a cup of tea.
But it's constant, and a small example of what he does ALL THE TIME.
ALL THE TIME.

Unless you have lived in this kind of situation, you'll never fully understand why I consider this abuse.

I'd say in terms of abuse, it's comparable to Chinese Water Torture.

Monday, May 5, 2014

PA Trait: Sabotage & Punishment (Hot peppers)

PA Trait:  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.
In the past, I knew he was doing cruel things to me for a specific reason, but only thought he was being an ass. Sometimes I knew his reasoning for being cruel, other times I never figured out what I've done wrong anymore, but the punishment is basically the same. Cook an inedible family dinner (he has a culinary arts degree and a long career in the field,) withhold affection or intimacy or acknowledgement, sabotage something I'm doing, make me late for important appointments. He often uses sabotage or inefficient task completion as a form of punishment.

 -------------------------------------------------------
3/25 - Tuesday: I'm really sensitive to spicy food. It hurts from the time I swallow it until a few days later when it finally leaves my system. Over the past 20+ years, I have asked that if anyone wants spicy food, to make two versions (one spicy, the other mild) or season their own serving. For years, he has been adding hot spices to whatever he makes for dinner. For years, I have taken one bite, asked about the ingredients, and made myself a peanut butter sandwich instead of eating what he made for dinner.
I'm so tired of it.
On Tuesday, he did it again.
The conversation is always the same:

"What's in this?" I asked.
"Beans and tomatoes."
"And what else?"
"Onions."
"Hot peppers?"
"No."
"Then why is it spicy?"
"Oh...  Well, I added some chili powder. But it was just a little bit."
"You know I can't eat that. Why did you add it?"
"I only added a little bit."
"How about adding NONE?"
"But I only added a little bit."
"How long have I been telling you it causes me pain when I eat that stuff?"
"But I only added a little bit."
"I keep asking you to stop adding hot stuff but you keep cooking with it anyway."
"I only added a little bit. Just a tiny little bit."

Etc.
 -------------------------------------------------------
January 2014: He did something with hot peppers and oil in a teflon frying pan, and it permanently altered the pan. I discovered this when he made me a grilled cheese sandwich and my mouth started to burn. I was questioning him about what was in the sandwich and then what was in the pan when my throat started to close up. I panicked until I located a Benadryl. I don't directly blame him for the sandwich, but got really upset trying to figure out why my sandwich was so spicy - while wheezing - and he rolled his eyes and said, "Oh, it's not that bad. You're overreacting."

Even through I've scrubbed and scrubbed the pan since then, when it heats up the oils embedded in the pores of the pan release more of the chili oil. (With his background, he is aware that this can happen.) Everyone in the household knows that no matter what you cook in the pan, it comes out spicy. Nobody will use that pan any more, and even the kids complain when he tries to use it for family meals. Guess what pan he uses on the rare occasions he offers to cook me breakfast? Guess what pan he likes to use for French Toast?

I am not taking that pan with me when I leave.

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

Sunday, May 4, 2014

...Justified?

Recently, D and I sat on the couch together with our morning coffee, watching the morning news. (A rare event that we're doing the same thing in the same room.)

This was the morning that the news story broke about a high school student who killed a classmate after she turned him down as a prom date. Horrible news.

D turned to me and said, "Well if she was a bitch to him..."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"If she was a bitch about it when he asked..."

"Are you saying that the murder might be justified?"

"I'm just saying that maybe she was a bitch."

"D, there is no justification for him to murder her, no matter how she may or may not have behaved when he asked her to go to prom with him."

D shrugged. "I'm just saying, maybe she was a bitch..."

This scares the daylights out of me, knowing that he feels like the boy's behavior is justified when a girl doesn't treat him the way he wants.

I personally don't know the backstory of the interactions of these two people involved. I feel badly for the girl and her family and friends, and feel sad for the boy's mother. Regardless of what happened before she was stabbed to death, that still doesn't make it right. Murder is not what you do when you feel insulted or slighted by someone.

But apparently D thinks this kind of punishment is ok.

I feel justified in my fear of D.

Saturday, May 3, 2014

The Jobs Report

The Jobs Report was on the news recently. Apparently unemployment is down, job creation is up, the stock market is up, everybody happy happy happy.

The employment happy happy joy joy hasn't trickled its way down to me yet.


Here's a summary of the last month:

1. ABCD
I had been working for Company A, doing contract work for Company B, who leases office space in Company C's building. D never asked about any of it and assumed I worked for Company C.

The job ended abruptly. I had been the assistant for an exec at Company B. She got in trouble for hiring me (she didn't follow company protocols and hire through the proper channels.) To save her own ass, she got rid of me by blaming me for an error she made. Of course I was upset. After an investigation, my employer, Company A, reassured me I did nothing wrong, Company B was happy with my work, and in the discussion I learned that Boss B has done this to other assistants before me. How lovely. (In retrospect, I see that B stands for Bitch.)

In the end karma prevailed. Boss B got in trouble for hiring me, got in trouble for throwing me under the bus, and is no longer allowed to have an assistant.

Let me edit that last point. Karma prevailed for Boss B.
Did karma prevail for me?
I don't know.
I certainly don't see any change on my end.

2. The Federal Job
Had a great interview, was told a week later that they had chosen someone else for the job.
Being optimistic, I stopped job hunting and put all my eggs in the federal job basket. Now I have to start the job hunt all over agaon.

3. Temping
Finished a 3 week part-time temp job at minimal pay yesterday, and now nothing is on the horizon.

Can we say "I am depressed?" Let's all say it again, only louder.
I AM DEPRESSED.

I ate a package of Oreos (generic because they're cheaper) and am starting on a bag of M&Ms. Somebody please stop me.

Has D said anything about any of this? He knows nothing about the federal job. has no idea why I'm not going to company C's office any more, and knows I had been temping at one location only because he dropped me off at work one afternoon. Otherwise he has not asked or commented on any of this.

This is why I'm so damn depressed. It would be easier if someone actually gave a shit about me. A hug would be nice, too, but no. Empathy is a luxury I am just not going to have while I struggle through this.


Oh, except when I came home late one evening after a job fair down in the big city. It was past my usual bedtime and I wanted to get to bed straight away. D stopped me as I hurried into the house. "You need to help me write this letter," he demanded.
What? Why? To whom?
Apparently he is now job hunting, too, and wanted me to help him with his resume and cover letters. And they had to be done at midnight on a Wednesday. No particular job posting, he just wanted to have it ready. In case. And I had to stay up late to help him with it, instead of going to bed so I could get to work the next morning.
"Can we please work on this tomorrow?" I asked. "I'm tired and need to get to bed."
"No. I have to do it now because I'm sending it off in the morning."
"To who? What job?"
"Well I don't know! I'll find someone."
So I stayed up an extra hour, helping him with his resume and cover letter (generally both should be written/modified specifically for each job posting you apply to, not generically done, but he insisted and I'm still trying to play nice so he'll let me sleep after I go to bed.)

The next day he slept in, then spent all day watching tv.
I see where his priorities are, and it smacks of sabotage.

This umbrella is perfect.
So I can walk in the rain in front of D.
I am so so so ready to move on, but feel I can't until I get a job. I don't know any other way around it. I have to get a job before I can do anything else.
Once I get a job, I can sign a lease on an apartment (found our apartment - in my budget and in the right location for me and the kids to easily get around town.) Once I move, then I can work on rebuilding a social life. I have already found the community sports league I want to join, another branch of a fraternal organization I've been wanting to join, and am ready to sign up for yoga and the local dragonboat team. I'm so ready to get out there and have fun and make friends again. (Can't start that before the job - no money.)  I'm so fuckin' lonely.

I'm ready. Just... when am I going to get that job I so desperately need?