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."

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

NPD trait: Envy

One of the traits of a NPD is envy.

Back in my post about Narcissistic Personality Traits, I pointed out that one characteristic is envy, and D most certainly has it.

☑  Feeling envious of others, or believing that others are envious of him or her.

When we first met, we were working entry level jobs. He had just gotten his college degree a couple years earlier, and I had about a year of college under my belt.

When we married, we had no savings, no family money, no investments, no assets. We lived paycheck to paycheck and held our breath to make ends meet. We were still working the exact same entry level jobs when we got married, and he was earning 10¢ an hour more than me. Just 10¢. That came out to a gross difference of $8.00 between his paycheck and mine. (Except I worked a lot of overtime, so my paychecks were usually larger than his.)

I don't remember the circumstance, but I remember what he yelled at me to end the argument. It is one of the most ridiculous things D. has ever said to me:

You only married me for my money!

I'll never forget how pissed he got when I snorted and walked away.
Now I understand.

Accomplishments du Jour

I got a lot done today.

I started my morning coffee by packing up two boxes of books and squirreling them away in my bedroom. Then it warmed up enough to work outside, so ta-dah! The shed out back is completely cleaned out and I have started moving my packed boxes into it. I cleaned the deck and packed up all the outside stuff I'm keeping. (One wind chime, one fossil  - I'm a rock picker - and one flowerpot.) Then I cleaned the back porch and started packing up stuff I'm taking from there. I didn't pack a lot, which is good. I don't want a lot of clutter in my new place. Four loads of laundry are done and put away. A week worth of work clothes are set out for my daughter to critique and re-plan for me. As always. (I value her opinion on how to de-frump some of my tired clothing combos.)

Whew!
I'm exhausted.

First day of the new job tomorrow. I'm excited about working again and a little sad I won't have as much free time. But it's good. One step closer to getting out of here.

Today D ignored me most of the day. When he surfaced, he was pleasant until he decided to blame me for a non-problem caused by his inaction. Irritating. Grr.
He had some clothes sitting in the laundry sink for at least a week, I'd guess closer to two weeks. The laundry machine drains directly into the sink, so D's clothes were constantly wet, and starting to mildew. Today when I cleaned the porch, I threw the rug into the washer. When I was working outside, D brought the rug outside and hung it on the clothesline. Then he said, "You have crap in the sink."
"It's your crap. Those are your clothes."
"No!" he snapped. "Your crap is in the sink. You need to clean it!"
"What crap?"
"From your rug."
Of course, pine needles washed out of the rug (from the Xmas tree that I asked him to take out on Dec 26 and finally made it out the door by Feb 1st) and into the laundry sink.
Since the clothes were in there, the sink didn't drain as quickly as it filled, so there is a little line of crud about 2/3 up the sides of the sink. It's not a lot, but there's some crud. It'll rinse out with the next load of laundry or someone could pour a cup of water over it to rinse it down the drain. There wouldn't be any crud in the sink if his clothes hadn't been sitting in there for the past week or more.
But of course now it's my mess and I have to clean it up asap or else.
Whatever...

Off to bed!

PS: D doesn't know I'm working tomorrow. After telling him, "I'm leaving now for an interview," and hearing him respond with, "Oh," or "Pick up supper on your way home," (how about telling me good luck?? or asking about it when I get home??) I decided to not bother keeping him in the loop with my job hunting activities. I haven't told him about the new job. It's within walking distance from home, so my car will be parked at home all day and he probably won't even notice I'm not around. His loss.

PPS: D has been talking about applying for a job in a town 2 hours away but isn't sure about the distance. He did that before, about 8 years ago and it was tough. We did it, but it was a challenge. I encouraged him to apply for it if the job seems interesting. The town is great, so no issue there. I'd feel less guilty about leaving him if he had a job he likes instead of staying home living off his fixed-income settlement, which barely covers the rent. I'll put the energy out there that this works for him.

Ok, off to bed this time, for real.

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.

I'm thankful for...

• A check for  $160.03  that arrived in the mail today, out of the blue.
• An unexpected gift of  $225  to the kid who just started their first job yesterday.* The gift will pay for desperately needed work clothes. (And the kid was down to only one pair of jeans in their wardrobe, so we got a pair of jeans today, too.)
• Sunshine and temps in the 60s!
• The heavenly smell in the air from all the spring flowers and tree blossoms. 
• Laundry detergent. It's always a good thing. Clean clothes are very nice to have.
• My bank. Seriously, I love my bank. Yes, I know I'm weird; thank you. The tellers are great guys who are fun to talk to, everyone knows me by name, my banker and loan officer is the same person (and she says hi when she sees me around town) and I always walk out of there with a big grin on my face. I love my bank. (I'm gonna miss those guys when I move way across the city.)
• Phone call with an old high school friend - she's one of those friends where you don't see each other for years and can pick up where you left off when you do reconnect.
• Going out for supper with the kid after a day shopping. 
• Running into a dear old friend at the restaurant. 
• A new-ish friend stopped by my home for the first time today and I gave her the disclaimer "Sorry about the mess," then proceeded to give her the nickel tour. We had a short but fun visit. The kids showed off their new sports gear and we giggled at the really lame jokes spewing from the mouth of my eldest.
• I spent quality time with people I love.
  Today felt normal and happy and absolutely perfect. 
• Coffee. I love my coffee. I'm always thankful for a well made cup of coffee.

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

Hmm.
It's interesting...
Every day I give thanks for having cash in my purse or having enough money to get by. (Hey, if I have a penny in my purse, I have cash in my purse, so I honestly believe it when I say "I have cash in my purse.")

Our household finances are scraping the bottom of the barrel and we're literally digging coins out of the couch to pump maybe a gallon of gas in the car. The cupboards are bare. We suddenly have an urgent need for money (mandatory work clothes) on top of being low on toilet paper and out of milk. It's another 9 days of holding our breath until D's payday.

All of a sudden, out of nowhere, money appears. Our needs are met.

BTW, the $160.03 was the return of a deposit (plus interest) that I paid 5 years ago for something. I had forgotten all about it.

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

*Working kid was told, "Sorry, you can't wear jeans to work. And you'll need specific other clothes when you come in for your next shift." Ack! We have no money until the first of the month, and the cupboards are already bare. How are we going to buy the clothes? I posted some furniture for sale on Craigslist yesterday, and Thank God the gift and check arrived today because nobody called about my Craigslist ad.

Sorry I'm being cryptic about which kid/gender and what kind of job. Staying under D's radar...

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.