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.

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.

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.

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.

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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.

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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.

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...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?

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.