Showing posts with label stress. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stress. Show all posts

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.

Monday, April 28, 2014

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.


Monday, April 14, 2014

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.)

 ------------------------
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) 

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

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.

Sunday, March 30, 2014

Today's unique blend of abuse: The Girls' Day Situation

Imagine the periodic table of elements. Everything on the planet is made up of differing combinations of items in this table.


D is the same way. Every event and interaction with him is a blend of NPD & PA characteristics. 

I'd love to see a Periodic Table of personality disorder Elements, with examples of behavioral blends.

There are other periodic tables, see?

The Elements of a Super Hero

from comicsalliance.com

And Harry Potter
from www.huffingtonpost.com

Always useful, in my humble opinion - Swearing...

from deathtotheworld.com
 Boozing. Or as I prefer to call it: Cocktails.

from www.commonsenseevaluation.com

I love bacon. It's fitting that it is the first element in the Periodic Table of Meat.
from www.commonsenseevaluation.com

 And the a classic - The Muppets:
from www.commonsenseevaluation.com

Ok. That said, I need a Periodic Table of Psycopathic Elements, since the situation below is a combination of the following:

PA: Acting sullen, easily offended, feeling unappreciated, criticizing, feeling resentment, stubbornness, doing things to punish others when they feel wronged (giving me the silent treatment.)

and NPD: disregards the feelings of others, being told "No" comes off as a personal attack, has few friends, constant need for attention, has a sense of entitlement and that others with automatically go along with what he wants.

On top of that, if he had gone with me to Claire's house, he would have sat on the couch, sulking about being ignored, complaining about being bored, and asking when we could leave. The longer I stayed, the more he would act like an unruly child so I'd be compelled to cut my visit short - partly to get him to stop acting out and partly leaving early out of embarrassment.

I know this from experience.

Here's what happened.
The girl's day situation, 10am:
Me - I'm leaving in an hour to go have lunch at Claire's house. I'll be back in time for supper.
D - Why?
Me - Because you know how we talk. I never get out of there in less than 3 hours.
D - No, I mean why do you have to go at all?
Me - Because she's my friend.

D glares at me.

11am.
Me - I'm leaving for Claire's now. See you in a few hours.
D - I want to go.
Me - No, it's just going to be me and Claire.
D - Why?
Me - Because we're going to be doing girl talk, that's why.
D - I can still be there. You guys can talk.
Me - No. Look. She invited me, not us. I'm going over there alone. Plus, she's still upset about Ed's diagnosis, and she needs to vent and cry and I want to be there for her. It's not the right time for you to join us.
D - You're hiding something. I'm going with you.
Me - Oh for crying out loud. No. I'm leaving now.

I grab my keys and walk out.
D storms off to the garage to sulk for a few days.

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

In retrospect, since his response is usually passive and he shuts me out for several days when I offend him like this, I have been making a point to speak up and/or not play into his games - not just to stop the crazy at home, but primarily so he'll leave me alone. I'm much more at peace when he removes himself from my life, and his absences give me uninterrupted time and space to sort through everything in the house and pack up my personal belongings. 

It also helps me to emotionally separate from wanting things to work out between us. I gave it 20 years. If it can't be fixed in that time, it's not gonna be fixed in my lifetime. It also eliminates any chance of having the occasional good day with him, which always makes me question my plans to leave. This is hard. I love him on the good days, but they're so rare and fragile, that they never last. When we have good days, I think maybe we can work it out, maybe I can help him change, maybe he'll come around... When we have good days I feel super guilty about my plans to abandon him. His mother was forced to abandon him twice (long stories - medical reasons - she had no choice.) He doesn't have enough income to live on his own. He has physical scars and problems from the accident and I don't want him to think I'm leaving him because of that.

Ugh. I don't care what he thinks of me. I have my reasons for leaving. He can't be saved, but I can - if I suck it up and be strong and get out before depression swallows me whole. 

This duality of wanting to get out but wanting the old D back is depressing and gives me chest pains and anxiety. It's a weird combination of feelings that don't mix well, but there they are - all mixed together and hurting my soul.

Maybe someone could also design a Periodic Table of the Elements of Surviving Abuse.

Friday, March 28, 2014

I just wanted a hug.

This cartoon makes me cry.
image from http://www.robot-hugs.com/nest/

It was this situation that made me realize that something's wrong with D, and that I will never be able to fix it. I realized I wasn't happy and hadn't been happy for years and years and years.

At my home, I was feeling really low and asked him if I could have a hug, but he stood there and laughed at me.

So I started crying and asked again for a hug.
"Nope."

I opened my arms and said "Please?"

He backed away.

I took a step forward.

He backed away some more.

By now I was bawling my eyes out, and with tears streaming down my face, he moved away from me every time I tried to approach him for a hug. When I realized I was literally chasing him through the house in a cruel game of keep away, I stopped.

"Forget it," I spat out as I walked away.

"Aww, come on, I'm kidding! Come here, I'll hug you."

"No."

"Seriously, I'll give you a hug if you really want one that bad."

"Fuck you."

This one hug that I never got marked the beginning of the end.

I just wanted a hug.


Thursday, March 27, 2014

Quick update

Here is a list of thoughts and comments:
  • Today was day 4 of the new job. I like it. 
  • Yesterday I got a phone call from my headhunter. Last month I had put in an application for a big, high-paying (from my perspective) job across the city. They want to interview me in 2 weeks. Yay!! If I get the job I can officially start my apartment search and can finally plan my moving date.
  • Only one more week until our food stamps refill with a full month of benefits. Thank God! Beans and rice, Ramen noodles, skipping dinner so the kids can eat (D eats a huge lunch and huge dinner every day)... holding my breath... it's almost over!

Since D didn't say "good luck" or "fuck you" or anything when I've gone out for interviews,  i didn't bother to tell him I was hired for this job. My commute is so short I walk to work instead of drive (love that), so on the first day of work I left me car parked in my spot and walked to the office. When I came home for lunch, he demanded, "Where were you!?"
"I was at the such&such office."
"You never answered my text asking where you are."
"Sorry, I had my phone in my purse all morning. I didn't see it until I walked in the door."
I finished my lunch and walked back to work.
When I got home that night, I was exhausted. Kid#2 was at college and Kid#1 arrived home from their 2nd day at work soon after I got home. D hid out in the garage and Kid#1 and I were on our own to figure out dinner. We settled for Ramen noodles, Kid#1 had a little tiff in the kitchen with D, then Kid and I hauled ourselves off to bed.

The next day, Kid #1 mentioned to D that I was at work. D has never told me congratulations on the job, never asked how much I get paid, never asked about benefits, never asked what I do, nothing. I work in an unusual kind of office, and he has never even commented or asked about that. Normally I'd be very hurt that he shows zero interest in any of this, but I have finally come to expect it. I hate it, but if I expect it, then I'm less hurt and disappointed. I'm so tired of heartbreak and crying over this kind of shit.

Each day after work, except for the inedible spicy beans he cooked on Tuesday, he has ignored me and whatever kid(s) are home that night. We are on our own to figure out and cook dinner. D is home all day; I would think if he was interested in taking care of his family, he'd spend time with us when we're home, and perhaps help with meal prep at dinnertime. 

The previous paragraph could actually describe practically every night at home for the last two years. 
He does not participate in family activities, rarely joins us in family meals, and when he cooks dinner (remember, he is a former restaurant cook) it is frequently inedible. He graces us with his appearance long enough to scowl, mooch, or demand my presence - all of which always immediately precede his swift retreat to the garage.

I translate that as, "I'm mad at you, I'm taking whatever you have (usually food or cash) for my own use, and making sure you witness me ignoring you."

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

The pain of ostracism



In my experience, it causes deep physical pain, as well.

When D walks past me without looking at me, talking to me, or touching me, it physically hurts. I ache deep in my core with chest pain and knots in my stomach. I notice this especially when he doesn't touch me.

When D is near me and doesn't touch me, it hurts as if he punched me in the stomach. I have even found myself doubling over in pain. When I made the mistake of reaching to touch him on the arm, he jerked away and glared at me like I'm contagious with God knows what.

Nobody touches me, actually. Not my shoulder, arm, hand, nothing. I have gone for weeks without being touched by another human. It hurts. I mean, it hurts emotionally, but it also hurts physically. I'm lucky when one of the kids hugs me, and I try to hug them daily, but they're in the "don't get to huggy with mom" phase, so I might get a half-assed hug once in a while. But that's it.

This is one of the reasons I started having a few affairs with other men. It's the only time anyone touches me and allows me to continue barely clinging to sanity with my short, soft fingernails. And at least my beaus are happy to touch me instead of begrudgingly making contact or accidentally brushing against me like when a grocery clerk hands me my receipt.

This is too upsetting to write about.
My chest hurts and I'm having trouble breathing when I think too much about this.



Source: ScienceDaily.com discusses the Perdue University Study on Ostracism

Sunday, March 23, 2014

Alone in my cave

When I'm stressed out (which is most of the time these days,) I tend to crawl into my little cave and disappear. People accuse me of dropping off the face of the earth. My family complains that I never answer the phone.

Years ago, I had lots of friends. Now, I only have a few left.

I've never been able to figure out why I do this now. I've been in my cave for about 7 years, but visited it now and then for the previous I don't know how many years.
Anyway, I'm a cave dweller.
I am hermit girl, hear me sigh.

What caused me to change from outgoing and popular to hermit girl? I hate being hermit girl, but can't even force myself to fake my old outgoing self any more.

Then I saw this picture at The Lost Self and it all makes sense. 
I thought it was just me. It's not. It's a growing depression from years and years of covert, passive abuse.

At least that means that when I leave the abuse, I'll finally start to heal.
I might even start to come out of my cave.

Saturday, March 22, 2014

Do I have PTSD?

I was sent to a psychiatrist to be tested for PTSD in the middle of The Hell Years*.
He said I didn't have it.

Today, I disagree with his diagnosis.


I don't think he asked questions in a manner I understood, because in all my research about personality disorders and the abuse surrounding them, I'm starting to think I do have PTSD. I'm almost positive I had it back then.

There is an online PTSD test on several big psych websites, but after answering the 22 questions it said "Print out this list and take it to your doctor to discuss your answers." Well phooey. I'm out of printer ink, I don't have medical insurance right now (Obamacare-Schmobamacare) and I have exactly $12.42 to my name until my first payday two weeks from now, so taking that test was a glorious waste of time.

Tonight, I found the same test online with scoring at the bottom. Thank God!
Here's a link to the test I found at Heal My PTSD.
"If you have 10+ "yes" answers, you display many symptoms of PTSD," the results say.
I answered 18 out of 22 with a yes.

I think the big difference between the PsyD and the online test is my interpretation of the questions.

First of all, in the doctor's office, I was answering everything based on the medical horrors I had witnessed and managed during The Hell Years. It was a horrible time in all of our lives, but:

Did I witness or experience a traumatic event?
No. First of all, Hell wasn't an event. It was a situation that should have been routine but quickly went south, then turned into an ongoing life-threatening situation that dragged on for months. A year later we went through it all over again.
Second of all, we only discussed Hell. I wasn't aware that I'd been abused for years before Hell happened, so abuse didn't even enter the discussion. It was the farthest thing from my mind.

Do I have flashbacks of the event?
At the time I was formally tested, I think I was still in shock. My family was knee deep in the horror show and hadn't yet come up for air. I wasn't even to the point of having flashbacks yet.

(By the way, the P in PTSD means Post. It's Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, not UTYEBTSD: Up To Your Eye Balls in Trauma Stress Disorder. And also not NLATEOTTTSD: No Light At The End Of The Tunnel Traumatic Stress Disorder. Let's make sure we're clear on that.)

I also knew absolutely nothing about PTSD, so when he asked about flashbacks, I imagined Vietnam Vets having flashbacks (as demonstrated via Hollywood - my only exposure to flashbacks) and no. I didn't wake up in the middle of the night in a panic, trying to hide from or hunt the bad guys.

So I told him, "No. I don't have flashbacks."

If only he had explained what that actually meant. Now days, when I think of the abuse I endured over the past 20 years, and then the emotional isolation I felt during Hell when I had no friends to help me through it, yeah. They're not technically visual flashbacks, but the emotional pain and anguish wells up and it takes me a good hour to stop crying from thinking about it. I think I'd categorize that as a flashback. The pain is still very raw and I'm super sensitive when I think about it.

Do you have intense physical and/or emotional distress when something reminds you of the traumatic event?
Yesindeed. See above. Enough said.
Do I avoid talking about it, thinking about it, engaging in any reminders about it?
Can we change the subject?
Sometimes I wonder if that's one reason I need to get away from D. Because he reminds me of the abuse. Or if it's just because of the abuse. Maybe both, depending on how he's treating me at the time.
I don't like thinking about Hell or how horribly alone I felt during that time. I can't deal with my feelings when I do. It's too much.
Can I have a hug now?

Do you have memory gaps?
Do you have difficulty concentrating?
Are you kidding?? I lost part of my language skills during Hell. Common vocabulary words were gone. I couldn't carry on a normal conversation because too many words were missing.
"Please let the dog out," ended up sounding like, "Hey. The dog. He... wants. Uh, Dog needs... Um... potty." 

I felt like I had brain damage. I told my doctors that I felt like I had brain damage. They nodded and made notes in their laptops but didn't do anything to help, except to change my antidepressant meds. I still struggle to recall and speak certain words at times. Sometimes my conversation trails off and converts to gestures because I can't pull up the next word from the depths of my brain, but it's a lot better now than it was. Crossword puzzles helped me to regain a lot of my words.

Now that I know more about abuse and isolation and PTSD, I believe I actually did suffer some brain damage during that time.

New item for my to do list after I move out: talk to a doctor or counselor about PTSD.




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

*The Hell Years refers to the injuries from the accident (a freak accident - nobody's fault), the recovery, and the aftermath. 

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.

Friday, March 14, 2014

Being stuck is keeping me stuck


Why is it so darn hard for me to get up off my ass and do something? Anything?
Every day is wasted with nonsense and I don't get any packing done, I don't sort through boxes of crap, I DON'T SEND OUT JOB APPLICATIONS...

WTF is wrong with me??

I mean seriously, what the fuck is wrong with me??

By not doing anything, I'm just going to be stuck here longer. 

Last night I decided to take a one-week vacation from Facebook. I'm not gaining anything from that that I can't live without. When the week is up, I'll decide if I want to take a second week off. It could be a really good thing.

I'm going to bed early (on time) tonight, waking up at 6am tomorrow, and hopping in the shower and getting dressed right away. If that's all I do for the day, it'll be more than I've done all week. Plus, I'm always more productive in the early morning, and more productive when I'm dressed instead of pajamafied.

I'm sick of being stuck.
But like the quote above says, maybe I'm stuck because I think I'm stuck. 
Ok. shutting off the computer for the rest of the day. Maybe tomorrow, too.

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Get Out of My Way


I have been an excellent roadblock to myself.

Before going to bed on Sunday night, I wrote up a brief list of goals I want to accomplish this week. They're simple goals, and I could get them all done in a day if I had a hard deadline:
  1. Apply for 6 more full-time jobs at my career level
  2. Apply for 3 more lower wage, part time jobs (to carry me through until the permanent job comes through. I need money for toilet paper and gas. And an occasional latte.)
  3. Clean out the front flower garden 
  4. Clean the front porch
  5. Clean the bathroom
  6. Catch up on my laundry
  7. Sort through and/or pack another box of stuff - moving prep
Today I cleaned the front porch. Took me 15 minutes.

That's it. That's all I accomplished today.

I can't tell if I'm depressed, lazy, or afraid to move forward. Or afraid.

If I move forward, then I'll be closer to moving out - a huge change.
I'm SO looking forward to moving out and changing my life, but I'm dragging my feet.
WHY??

I think I'm secretly afraid, and after scrolling through pages and pages of NPD and PA related Pinterest boards, and browsing through a half dozen blogs written by people who have been in the same position I'm in, I think I know what I'm afraid of.


I'm afraid of what other people will do to me when I leave. 

From friends and family - "Why? Oh, poor D. He's such a nice guy. What happened? How could you possibly leave him?" and I'll feel pressured to talk about it.

I'll talk about it here, but I don't want to tell the same story over and over. And over. That's what happened after the accident, and it was hard. I hated talking about it the first time, but then everyone would ask and I'd find myself telling the story again and again. It got to the point where to this day, if I even think about the accident, I start crying about how awful it was, and how horrible the repairs and recovery was, physically, emotionally, and socially.

I'm afraid it's going to be like the accident all over again and I don't want to do it. I just want to get on with my life and not have to talk about it. I also still care about D, and don't want to say anything that will make him look bad. I know that's stupid, but I don't. I'd also feel like I'm betraying the kids if I say, "I left D because ... (insert any snippet of truth here)" I just want to publicly announce one time, "It didn't work out," and be done with it. But I KNOW it's not going to happen like that and I get knots in my stomach thinking about it.

From D, himself - I fear the character assassination that may follow. He may lash out and publicly skewer me in social media (he has no other friends at this point.) He may say things that will ultimately hurt the kids, and I'll feel guilty for their getting sucked into his drama.

I'm also afraid he might escalate. He hasn't for a long time, but I have always been afraid of an explosive escalation. Always. Its never gotten to that point, but from the time we were married, that fear has ALWAYS been in the back of my mind.

Even if I keep my (future) employer's identity a secret, and take precautions to hide from him after I move, he has access to technology that will probably find me, so I don't think I could ever hide from him. That makes me nervous. He's like an earthquake - The Big One. The potential to be devastating is there, and there are no warning signs, so you never know when it's going to hit. Or where you'll be when it hits. You could be hurt by your own home, a landslide, a tsunami, you never know. That scares me.

On the other hand, this is all just worry. I'm so focused on things that haven't happened. They aren't real. They are only  figments of my imagination.

I need to take a deep breath and bravely forge onward.
The things I think I might be afraid of can be dealt with when I'm finally there.

Tomorrow I'll check the three most difficult and time consuming things off my list: 
1. Apply for 6 more full-time jobs at my career level
5. Clean the bathroom
6. Catch up on my laundry

Time to get out of my way and move forward.


Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Blue

I've been on my frantic, desperate job hunt for a month now.

No job, no income, nothing. Because of my particular situation, I won't be eligible for unemployment for another month. Have applied for assistance, but that's a long process. The fridge is empty, we're on our last bale of toilet paper, and I'm getting scared.

I've had chest pains for several nights in a row, but I know they're just from anxiety. I have a knot in my gut that just won't go away. It makes me nauseous. No, I'm not going to the ER. It's not the lack of health insurance, it's just that I don't want to sit for 4 hours in a waiting room to be told "You're fine. It's stress. Go home and have a cup of tea." Fuck you.

Besides, I don't want to have to interact with D for that long. He annoys the crap out of me.

Today I had a meltdown and the kid comforted me. I try to hide all of my stress from her, but she's not an idiot. I can only protect her form so much of what's going on. I mean, she knows we're broker then broke, but I can't unload my mental crap on to her. She's a kid.

After numbing out for a while with computer games, I decided I'd figure out the one next step to get past this.

I need to focus.
Focus on what I need to do.

Sounds redundant, focusing on focusing, but for example, if I'm filling out another application, I need to focus fully on what I'm doing. Not letting all my financial woes and personal drama whirl over my head like a tornado of doom while I'm trying to fill in a form telling someone how awesome I am and why they should hire me.

That's backwards.

When I focus on something, really focus, I usually tune out the rest of the world and work hard at the task at hand. That's what I need to do: focus.

The other thing I need to do, when I have nothing specific to focus on, is to stop the negative little voice in the back of my head from saying shit like "We're so broke. I just need to get out of here. I just want a job. I hate this house. This is taking too long." and start working on a LOA approach* again.
*LOA = Law Of Attraction

The LOA worked so well when I got the last temp job, which was an accident (and a mistake, but that's another story), and it worked with so many other things. I even used the LOA to meet P, who has been an absolute godsend.

So that's my job from now on:
Focus
LOA

Here are the LOA links I found tonight that are helping to un-blue me: