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.

...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.

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?

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.

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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.

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.