Perhaps there was a nugget of truth in that accusation. On one hand, I am only able or willing to give so much time or energy to the drama junkies; and on the other, it appears (to the junkies) as if I am "neither here nor there."
More to the point, I'm half-assing MYSELF and my own needs. It hasn't felt natural or pleasant for me to visit my family, so why bother? They are not value added to my life. They aren't making a point to be active players, and yet resent me and expect me to be an active player in theirs.
Just when I am convinced I have steeled myself sufficiently, and have made strides and progress towards my OWN happiness or sense of well being, the Category 5 Emotional Hurricanes that my sister and mother are, find new ways to undermine my sense of self, my sense of well being, and try to drag me down to their level of misery.
I am disgusted and disappointed with myself that I "bit the hook," and engaged, even if it were one final attempt at trying to be understood. The reality is, her mind is made up, and is closed.
My reality, as I see it is, that for years my sister has gotten weird and distant, to the point where it was challenging to even communicate, to the point where over time, I stopped extending invitations (why bother? she'll never find time to come visit), and over time I stopped calling her at home, due to inability to either get through to her directly or zero courtesy in a return call.
I feel that a lot of the ire in her emails are a combination of unresolved emotional garbage of her being in the delusion/trap of being the middle child, and how she was never loved enough, and gets the shitty end of the stick from the family, which is then coupled up with the unreasonable amount of medical drama and abuse from mom. There's only so much one person can withstand, and rather than be angry at our mother for essentially handicapping herself due to outright neglect, she's projecting all that garbage onto me (as if I've had it easy all this time).
My mother's neglect of self has affected our family on a very real level and has limited our ability to have a richer, more diverse family experience. However, for many years prior to her incapacitation (which I would say is 50% mental--as if she really WANTED to leave her house, she would find a way) she stopped going the distance.
She doesn't know what fortitude is, much less what it is like to WORK through her garbage, and at this point she's a lost cause), she started opting out of going to HER sister's house due to the stairs being "too rickety," yet even after the stairs and railings were all replaced, she hasn't been to my aunt's house in 16 years. Another example: Even though my brother lives 30 minutes away, she doesn't go to his house because when he moved in, they removed the railing from the front of the house. Also related: she got rid of her death mobile, bucket of bolts, and cannot fit or get into anyone else's vehicle, so now she never leaves the house, and the world must COME TO HER.
Then there was the issue of her size and inability to lift her legs high enough to get into any other vehicle other than her death mobile, bucket of bolts. Seven years ago, when we bought our new car, she made such a frustrating, pitiable fuss while attempting to get into the car, that she had to taint what would have been a simple joy, of taking my parents out for a joy ride in my new car. Of course, dad went with me and we enjoyed our time, but still, the memory is still there, and it is one of many examples of how anything good that happens to me, it has to be countered with something negative from her.
THAT is at the root here. The narcissism, the handicapping via outright neglect, the emotional abuse that camouflaged itself as "parenting" or "love," THAT is at the root here.
I still say that despite my sister's claims she wanted a dialogue, the reality is, she wanted a monologue where the only valid POV is her own. Couple this up with her demands/selfishness and her cruelty (of her "agreeing with my stalker" which to me = her thinking I deserve to be victimized), I don't see much left to salvage in this relationship.
I have her at the highest level of emotional insulation. I have blocked her from emailing further shit storms to me at my work email address, and I have added every related phone number for her to my reject list on my cell phone. If need arises, I'll add all those numbers to the reject list on the house phone/land line.
While I don't wish any negative stuff to happen, part of me hopes that when this year's "post-holiday hospitalization" happens, it will be while I am on an entirely different continent.
I've had enough of "family" to last me for a while. I am pretty much disgusted with my mother, as her meddling added to the dynamic/paradigm. I am working all week this week, and have zero intent to call anyone on the holiday. I'm putting everyone into a time out.
Monday, December 22, 2014
Thursday, December 18, 2014
The Shitstorm: The Last Word
Yesterday after receiving what I thought was the last email in the series of hatred from my sister, I decided to block her email address, because HELLO YOU ARE STIRRING SHIT AT WORK, and have pre-emptively blocked all numbers associated with her on my cell phone, and tonight every last one of her phone numbers will be added to our reject list at home. So if you're keeping track at home, this is the highest level of emotional insulation I've had to enact. EVER.
This morning, of course, when I got into the office, I had to check my quarantine folder out of some sense of morbid curiosity. And of course, there's the final email. I tried to release the email and it got stuck in the ether. It took a while for IT to figure it out for me. And while I cannot view it as an email, I am able to read the body of the reply.
For continuity, I am pasting it herein. And a few weeks or months or perhaps years from now when I feel some pang of sentimentality, I shall sit back and re-read all of this disgraceful stuff, and be reminded of why I things are as they are.
The reply (which will go unacknowledged):
This morning, of course, when I got into the office, I had to check my quarantine folder out of some sense of morbid curiosity. And of course, there's the final email. I tried to release the email and it got stuck in the ether. It took a while for IT to figure it out for me. And while I cannot view it as an email, I am able to read the body of the reply.
For continuity, I am pasting it herein. And a few weeks or months or perhaps years from now when I feel some pang of sentimentality, I shall sit back and re-read all of this disgraceful stuff, and be reminded of why I things are as they are.
The reply (which will go unacknowledged):
I am deleting this after this email, talk about drama, maybe your stalker is right . FYI the world doesn't revolve around you, I have many things that you have not bothered to involve yourself in. E. never had a first communion, in our church they do not do that. And speaking about E. you have sent her a few random text messages in the middle of school to which she is not allowed on her phone. E. is almost an adult and can form her own opinions on people and believe me you are not the topic of conversation. You have made your decision and unlike you I will no longer be responding to your ranting Emails. I tried to open up a dialog but as usual you have to get the last word in. So I guess this is your famous F you letter. I do not wish anything bad for you and wish you nothing but the best for you and your husband, and I am also too old to be dealing with this kind of drama if you re read this email in its entirety maybe you can see what I was trying to say. But for now it is probably for the best that we have no further communication.*Note the zinger about her agreeing with my Stalker. The subtext of that is pretty potent, that I deserve to be victimized. Pretty cruel and sad all rolled into one.
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
The Shitstorm: A Timeline
So my sister went on the offensive, and zapped me the following (#1) email. Please read and see my relationship with her dissolve before your very eyes. I did not change formatting, and the only thing I did was redact names and email addresses for privacy concerns.
1.
From: Sis
Sent: Wednesday, December 17, 2014 2:11 PM
To: Me
Subject:
Not really quite sure what was going on on Sunday, but instead of talking to mom and aunt you could have taken me aside or tried to talk to me. I could not have been more uncomfortable with what I had assumed was all of you talking about me prior to coming in the room and then continuing to talk about me when I went into the living room. You and Mom barely said anything took your selfies while I stood in the kitchen getting stuff for the table. So how did you want me to react? This is not a letter telling you off, this is just me saying to you what I felt I could not say there. You called me twice at work while I was in a meeting, I figured it was to see how brother made out with surgery, I could not take the call. I get tired of being the one relaying to everyone how everyone is doing. I figured you would call him directly. It is difficult to try and gauge what type of relationship you are looking for with me. You want to pick up after long periods of time and talking like no time has passed. You have told me when I use to call your house how all I do is talk about myself and when you talk about yourself I have to get off the phone. I don’t feel like that is the case, I talk about my husband, daughter, our brother, and some of the rest of the family during this call. Do I resent you maybe a little, I am always the one getting the shit end of the stick in this family. You don’t get the middle of the night calls, or anything. I am at the point of giving everything back to Mom and you and our brother can figure out how to get everything done that she needs done. Almost 8 years of taking garbage in and out, paying bills** doing laundry food shopping whatever is needed at a moments notice. Do you think it is easy working fulltime raising my daughter dealing with my own family’s issues and then having to deal with all of Moms Stuff? You come down once maybe 3 times a year , I know it’s a ride and I don’t come to see you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you are care about you. I have no freakin time.
Just to let you know I called mom the next day and was told basically how horrible I am. Its great how she can talk about you when your not here but when you come down I am thrown right in the garbage pile as usual. I was told how I didn’t say hi, (but apparently walked in on you guys talking about me) how rude I was, and how you called me multiple times to have my daughter stay at the hotel with you, I Never received any call Sat from you, she then went on to tell me about your conversation and informed me that she doesn’t like that we hate each other. I don’t hate you, nor have I ever said that I hate you. All the Tuesday night* crap that I am not included in and all that other stuff I just don’t have time for it.
I do not want our relationship ruined by Mom. If you want to at some time talk/get together*** I am open to that. I just really feel like I need to take a break from all this, I would ask that you keep this between you and me**** and not involve mom in this or repeat the contents of the email to her.
*Tues. Night is a code word, family equivalent, to "it's in the vault." Also please note the sentence involving how she's not telling me off. This and subsequent replies were nothing short of telling me off. I don't care about her point of view. For YEARS that's all I've heard, and I've kept my mouth shut about mine. HER POV is not the ONLY one of value here. But what-evs.
**When dad was dying, he asked my brother-in-law to look after mom's finances, and to date, he has done so as a death bed promise to my dad, so I am not sure how or why this detail is included in her litany.
***This is hilarious. What she is suggesting would require that she actually answer or return a phone call.
****Typical tactic by a sociopath: carefully control and curate her narrative, so as to ensure she is always painted in as sympathetic light as possible. Sure. I tried not to speak to mom about what happened; however, my sister has shared her own spin on the story. Fuck her. This is so obvious in it being 100% manipulation.
2.
From: Me
Sent: Wednesday, December 17, 2014 2:13 PM
To: Sis
Subject: RE:
I’m not even going to engage in this.
I had a nice time at the party until I was told how horrible “I” am.
Since nothing “I” do is right, I’m removing myself from the equation.
3.
From: Sis
Sent: Wednesday, December 17, 2014 2:13 PM
To: Me
Subject: RE:
Ok fine, I figured I would try. Have a nice life.
4.
From: Me
Sent: Wednesday, December 17, 2014 2:16 PM
To: Sis
Subject: RE:
One final thing. You should check your math. While I may only come down every four months, multiply that out over 13 years, it still comes out to more visits from me than from you in the reverse.
5.
From: Sis
Sent: Wednesday, December 17, 2014 2:22 PM
To: Me
Subject: RE:
Maybe you should read your prior email? So much for not engaging in this. What I sent to you was to try and move on from this but if all you are going to do is act like this and not try, then all I can say is I tried, after all I am sure all your information is coming from Mom just like mine is, ever wonder what she has said you said about me? Oh right that’s Tuesday night stuff..just like when we were kids. If I am excluded from your life than do not contact MY daughter either, I am not going to have you half ass a relationship with her either
*Note: "Tuesday Night" is not something that was around while we were kids. This is something our aunt has employed amongst friends and is a relative new "thing" in my family. So again, weird thing she's recalling from childhood which was not the case.6.
From: Me
Sent: Wednesday, December 17, 2014 2:30 PM
To: Sis
Subject: Re:
No. I read it. I’m clarifying that I come down more than “every 7 months.” I don’t care. I am giving what I can of myself, and that’s obviously insufficient for your needs. I live 125 miles away. Also? You act as if you’re the only person who is entitled to feel disappointed or disgusted or let down.
Things have always been hostile with you. I try. I come down when I can and when I am able.
But there have been two crucial (ETA: Error noted, I noticed after I hit send that there were FIVE POINTS) points for me which have nothing to do with this weekend:
- You had offered (I did not, nor would have I ever asked for it) to help me for a day or two after my bypass—my surgery came and went and it was quite literally weeks before I heard back from you;
- When dad was dying and I had that car accident so bad requiring my vehicle be towed away, not one single person I called would answer their phone and render any aid. There I was, stranded 125 miles from home and no one would help me—luckily it was not a life-or-death type of accident--Bottom line is, I am not going to kill myself to be there more. The visits go by pretty much unappreciated;
- You want me to participate more in your daughter's life, yet, you excluded me from her First Communion came and went and was only mentioned casually, after the fact;
- You want me in your life or your daughter's life, yet neither one of you return calls or texts or emails;
- You want me in your life, yet, you have excluded me countless times with your trips to NYC for shows, of which I would not know about, had it not been for your holiday photo cards depicting you in front of the Time Life Building a scant 35 minutes from my house.
To be honest, the parties are not enjoyable for me. I don’t like large crowds, and with all the cross talk and chaos, it’s not enjoyable for me. So even in the course of “being there” it’s not enough.
You might not be aware of it, or perhaps you don’t care, and that’s fine, but you’re incredibly hostile towards me. I know you don’t self-censor in front of your daughter, so I’m sure she’s gotten quite an earful about what a disappointment I am. And that’s okay. I suck. I’m okay with my limitations. I’m tired of you projecting all your garbage onto me.
Furthermore, to clarify, the calls came through on Monday. Two. Plus one email. And no, the calls were not about our brother, because he communicates directly with me. And if he doesn’t, at a minimum his wife is capable of replying to a text without any hostility what-so-ever.
*Note: My sister and our sister-in-law are mortal enemies; here I am, painting a picture that her enemy is even capable of basic courtesy.I cannot be who you want, need, expect, demand me to be. And guess what? As I get older, the less I’ll be able to do.
So. Who should be frustrated or disappointed about two visits (plus that one random Easter when we all met in Edison) over the last 13 years?
Every holiday there’s some kind of issue. Some kind of chaos. I was minding my own business and somehow I’m on the shit list. I’m tired of being your scapegoat for whatever is bugging you. The holidays are hard enough to power through without inventing drama.
End Note: While I would not say I was "talking about her,"I merely remarked to my mother about how rude she was, (on top of the lack of telephone calls), as she walked in, acknowledged everyone except me. And then later, I commented to my aunt about how as a direct result of my sister not returning calls, my niece missed an opportunity to spend time with me. That is not "talking about," or talking smack.
Consequences
With the birth (or re-birth, as it were) of inescapable, irreversible, family induced butthurt, brings with it the inescapable AFTERBIRTH: The changing of the insurance beneficiaries.
Insanity = Doing The Same Thing Repeatedly & Expecting a Different Outcome
Not a holiday goes by without my sister drumming up drama with someone. Last year it was our sister-in-law; years before, my mom; and now this year, she's contriving some nonsense with me.
Obviously, I cannot change her behaviors, all I can do is change mine. All this is to say (or repeat saying, as I did state as such in yesterday's blog post) that I won't be rewarding abusive behavior by giving her more access to me, and I'm changing my focus regarding to whom or with whom I share myself and my precious commodity of TIME.
I'm fairly upset about having to be in such a position to cut myself off from another abusive relationship, but I suppose this is because the hurt is so raw and new. And a week or a month from now, the pain will be blunted, and the silence (and lack of apology or even awareness from/by my sister) will be enough to bolster me and my decision to just disengage.
My tack moving forward will be to meet force with force. I won't call her. And if she dares to call me, I'll just let it roll to voice mail and not bother to call her back. Whatever happens regarding mom and any future hospitalizations I will need to find out via my brother or my aunt. So be it.
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
The Afterbirth
With the birth of the post-family fuckfest wrap up comes the inevitable AFTERBIRTH: The commentary.
I've come to these inescapable judgements about my sister:
JUDGEMENTS (in stream-of-consciousness order):
1. She is petty, passive aggressive, hostile, jealous and just wants to find fault with me.
IN SUMMATION/CONCLUSION:
IN CONTRAST:
Regarding my brother...
JUDGEMENTS (in stream-of-consciousness order):
1. She is petty, passive aggressive, hostile, jealous and just wants to find fault with me.
2. She does not invest in our relationship. The only time
I see her is if I make the effort to drive 2.5 hours, one way, to NJ. She's
been to NYC countless times and never informs me of it in advance so I might
plan to take the train in to have a cup of coffee and face time.
3. She cannot be bothered to extend simple courtesy to me
in the form of replying to emails, texts or returning telephone calls.
4. She's perhaps even more negative than my mom.
5. She's got a very twisted perspective on reality and
events as they happen.
REGARDING HER PETTINESS:
When I decided I wanted a photo of me and my mom (there
aren't all that many and hell, she's not well), I asked my uncle to snap a
photo on my phone, and since my aunt was there, I asked her to be in it,
because I did not want her to feel excluded. But the photo was snapped FOR
ME,ON MY PHONE. Apparently, my sister takes issue with this
that she and my niece were not invited to be in the photo, and chooses to be offended. Complained up a a royal blue streak about it to mom.
REGARDING HER PASSIVE AGGRESSION, TWISTED SENSE OF REALITY/POOR MATH SKILLS:
She and my niece walked in, said hello to my mom and my aunt, and pretty much
outright shunned me. Then had the nerve to say I shunned HER and my niece.
She spent the entirety of the party (or while I was there) either in another room or at a distance from me, and at no point in time did she come near me to try to talk. Yet, I'm accused of the same thing.
She spent the entirety of the party (or while I was there) either in another room or at a distance from me, and at no point in time did she come near me to try to talk. Yet, I'm accused of the same thing.
She complained to my mother that I only come down if that
every seven months (inaccurate!). Just this year alone, I've come down four
times and was there visiting my sister just three scant weeks ago.
However, let's have fun with her incorrect math skills, and let's round down my visits to every SIX months, and it fleshes out thusly: 2 visits a year x 13 years = 26 visits, and she's only been to my house a whopping 2x in that time, I'd say SHE is the one with the "visit deficit," NOT me.
However, let's have fun with her incorrect math skills, and let's round down my visits to every SIX months, and it fleshes out thusly: 2 visits a year x 13 years = 26 visits, and she's only been to my house a whopping 2x in that time, I'd say SHE is the one with the "visit deficit," NOT me.
IN SUMMATION/CONCLUSION:
I'm not going to any future holiday "parties."
I haven't decided when to tell my mom that I won't come
down for holiday parties anymore (yet I will still make a special trip for HER),
though not right now because it's just too much. She's very upset about things
as they are, and I don't want to add to it. But no. No further holiday trips
will be made. I am tired of being my sister's scapegoat.
IN CONTRAST:
Regarding my brother...
I could text him at midnight and say call me, and guess
what he does? HE CALLS ME. And in stark contrast to my sister, said very directly to our mom, "If all Maven has is one hour to give me, I'll take it. I'll be happy with my hour."
Also worth mentioning, he and I are trying to make active
plans moving forward. As I said to my
brother, "It's obvious she doesn't want me in her life, and I'm done trying.
So, I will focus my energies on those people who want me in their life."
I am pretty much upset/devastated about all these
developments. My sister is incapable of communicating directly--and is squarely
to blame for this weirdness, and I think I've hit my saturation point of
"give a fuck" and won't be continuing with this dynamic in an active
role.
Monday, December 15, 2014
Post-Familyfuckfest Wrap Up
All things considered, it went well enough.
My plans all fell into place, and I was able to head off to my great-aunt's home so she and my cousin could be the official tasters of the stuffed squid, which they had been very helpful and gracious every step of the way with my questions, etc.
My cousin went to great lengths to make it all very special for me. Setting the table with table cloth, china and flat ware all that were my great grandmother's. And he put out a full array of holiday cookies which over the course of a few weeks he made (and froze) in preparation for Christmas. It was all truly lovely.
Conversation was pleasant and timely and didn't dig too deep into the past, as whatever grudges and bygones are now put to rest given all the parties involved in it directly are no longer among the living. And what is inescapably apparent to me is that no one on the other side of the family either sensed anything was amiss or knew what caused it. And sadder still, in the almost 25 years since my grandmother passed away (one of the parties directly involved), no one had taken charge to try to reunite the family or become re-acquainted.
So it is totally by chance I found my great aunt, and chose to be social, and got introduced to her youngest son, with whom I've established a friendly email correspondence. And everything has unfolded, I suspect cosmically, in its own time.
Once the squid was tasted (and I got high marks and praise on it, especially given it's my first attempt at it), two hours turned into three, and I needed to head on my way.
I kept all this information to myself overnight. I wanted the good feeling to last. It was something truly good and lovely, and so utterly NORMAL. I didn't want to tell anyone about it out of fear of someone making a negative out of it.
In keeping with the theme of the previous blog post, and in keeping with her character, NO. My sister never replied back to my voicemails or emails, and even when in my physical presence did she give two shits enough to even ask, "Hey, you were trying to contact me.... what was it about?" Nope.
I was to have breakfast at the hotel with a friend, and that fell through, so I had a nice solo breakfast and took advantage of the time, and headed to the store for some last minute items, and headed to mom's house for some spare time before the party.
I came in the house with a new cowl necked top for her, I thought it festive enough and in her favorite color, and thought she might wear something new since she was hosting a house full of company. She gave a glance, didn't seem all that interested in it. And at first it got shuffled off to the side, and before you know it, it found its way to the bottom of a pile of pillows, and now a wrinkled, forgotten mess. MONEY WELL SPENT! Some people are just unappreciative fucks. Oh well. Luckily it wasn't pricey--but I could have bought another skein of yarn with the cost of the blouse.
Audrey was neutral to well behaved. And I broke the news that not only did I visit her aunt (the one she's groused about in the past about not hearing from her), but that I also stayed at a hotel last night too. I just needed time to regroup after such a long drive, and being ON at the aunt's, and let's face it, I cannot convince myself to work myself up into a lather hosting a party in someone else's house. But hey, every one else feeds this delusion that she's living independently, when it's not the case. My aunt was playing step-and-fetch-it and seething the entire time.
My sister and niece walked in and acknowledged everyone--except for me. I just sat there cool as a cuke, crocheting. Very weird and awkward indeed. My brother was unable to come out to the party due to the surgical procedure he had earlier in the week.
It was weird and awkward and noisey as fuck. And now it's over. Audrey is blissed out that I made it. Which no doubt means my sister is seething about that.
I had a chat with my aunt afterwards about how unwelcome I feel around my sister, and it's obvious she doesn't want me involved in her life or her kid's. She's unwilling or incapable of articulating it, and in the interim there's this lingering weirdness.
If I avoid everyone, I'm damned.
If I try to be there, I'm damned.
My relationship with my brother is so straightforward there is none of this garbage. And hell, I feel more of an "aunty" to the kids of friends than I do to my own nieces.
The party itself was nice enough, but loud and anxiety inducing, and I powered through until I got a text from the husband that said, "Time to come home." And I got myself together, got as far as the door and realized I almost went home wearing a pair of house slippers of my mother's. My younger cousin scampered off to retrieve my shoes, and in doing so, I thanked him and quipped, "I feel like Cinderella!"
The drive home, long as it may be, was about as problem free as possible, and I managed to get home in about two hours.
Along with the birth of anxiety riddled family fuckfest is the inevitable AFTER birth, the GI distress in the form of constipation. Jury is still out on whether an impaction is in my near future.
Waiting for the other poo (shoe) to drop...
My plans all fell into place, and I was able to head off to my great-aunt's home so she and my cousin could be the official tasters of the stuffed squid, which they had been very helpful and gracious every step of the way with my questions, etc.
My cousin went to great lengths to make it all very special for me. Setting the table with table cloth, china and flat ware all that were my great grandmother's. And he put out a full array of holiday cookies which over the course of a few weeks he made (and froze) in preparation for Christmas. It was all truly lovely.
Conversation was pleasant and timely and didn't dig too deep into the past, as whatever grudges and bygones are now put to rest given all the parties involved in it directly are no longer among the living. And what is inescapably apparent to me is that no one on the other side of the family either sensed anything was amiss or knew what caused it. And sadder still, in the almost 25 years since my grandmother passed away (one of the parties directly involved), no one had taken charge to try to reunite the family or become re-acquainted.
So it is totally by chance I found my great aunt, and chose to be social, and got introduced to her youngest son, with whom I've established a friendly email correspondence. And everything has unfolded, I suspect cosmically, in its own time.
Once the squid was tasted (and I got high marks and praise on it, especially given it's my first attempt at it), two hours turned into three, and I needed to head on my way.
I kept all this information to myself overnight. I wanted the good feeling to last. It was something truly good and lovely, and so utterly NORMAL. I didn't want to tell anyone about it out of fear of someone making a negative out of it.
In keeping with the theme of the previous blog post, and in keeping with her character, NO. My sister never replied back to my voicemails or emails, and even when in my physical presence did she give two shits enough to even ask, "Hey, you were trying to contact me.... what was it about?" Nope.
I was to have breakfast at the hotel with a friend, and that fell through, so I had a nice solo breakfast and took advantage of the time, and headed to the store for some last minute items, and headed to mom's house for some spare time before the party.
I came in the house with a new cowl necked top for her, I thought it festive enough and in her favorite color, and thought she might wear something new since she was hosting a house full of company. She gave a glance, didn't seem all that interested in it. And at first it got shuffled off to the side, and before you know it, it found its way to the bottom of a pile of pillows, and now a wrinkled, forgotten mess. MONEY WELL SPENT! Some people are just unappreciative fucks. Oh well. Luckily it wasn't pricey--but I could have bought another skein of yarn with the cost of the blouse.
Audrey was neutral to well behaved. And I broke the news that not only did I visit her aunt (the one she's groused about in the past about not hearing from her), but that I also stayed at a hotel last night too. I just needed time to regroup after such a long drive, and being ON at the aunt's, and let's face it, I cannot convince myself to work myself up into a lather hosting a party in someone else's house. But hey, every one else feeds this delusion that she's living independently, when it's not the case. My aunt was playing step-and-fetch-it and seething the entire time.
My sister and niece walked in and acknowledged everyone--except for me. I just sat there cool as a cuke, crocheting. Very weird and awkward indeed. My brother was unable to come out to the party due to the surgical procedure he had earlier in the week.
It was weird and awkward and noisey as fuck. And now it's over. Audrey is blissed out that I made it. Which no doubt means my sister is seething about that.
I had a chat with my aunt afterwards about how unwelcome I feel around my sister, and it's obvious she doesn't want me involved in her life or her kid's. She's unwilling or incapable of articulating it, and in the interim there's this lingering weirdness.
If I avoid everyone, I'm damned.
If I try to be there, I'm damned.
My relationship with my brother is so straightforward there is none of this garbage. And hell, I feel more of an "aunty" to the kids of friends than I do to my own nieces.
The party itself was nice enough, but loud and anxiety inducing, and I powered through until I got a text from the husband that said, "Time to come home." And I got myself together, got as far as the door and realized I almost went home wearing a pair of house slippers of my mother's. My younger cousin scampered off to retrieve my shoes, and in doing so, I thanked him and quipped, "I feel like Cinderella!"
The drive home, long as it may be, was about as problem free as possible, and I managed to get home in about two hours.
Along with the birth of anxiety riddled family fuckfest is the inevitable AFTER birth, the GI distress in the form of constipation. Jury is still out on whether an impaction is in my near future.
Waiting for the other poo (shoe) to drop...
Tuesday, December 9, 2014
Coming Soon! Family Holiday Fuckfest, 2014
Subtitle: Let no good deed go unpunished.
My mom's family's holiday party is this weekend. So, I've been working out the logistics of that: finishing up MY sweater I hope to wear, gathering what few gift items I will be giving, planning out when to buy the supplies for the stuffed squid I plan on providing as my foodstuff-contribution, figuring out when I am going to be able to shoe horn time at the mechanic for an oil change/fluid top off/tire inspection. And last but not least, schedule a reservation at a hotel, so I don't have to make that horrible drive down a touch-and-go in one day. 125 miles one way (2.5 hours on a GOOD day) + bifocals + driving alone + returning home at night + thanklessness = Regret and reluctance.
My fleeting initial thought was, I would invite my (almost 13 year old) niece for a girl's night out, sleep over, since I rarely see her. And if the hotel had an indoor pool, all the better. I had been waffling about inviting my niece, as I like to have ME time, and it's a long drive to get there (hence the hotel room), etc. Anyway. I can stop worrying about inviting her. My sister's inaction pretty much has decided for me.
It's very upsetting for me, because I feel the seething resentment, percolating beneath the surface, beneath the veneer of "cordial enough" from my sister, because (yes, there I go again, beating this dead horse) of the fact I live so far away and am NOT THERE. Never meeting me halfway (even if she's a scant 30 minutes from my house when she goes to NYC), never returning my calls or texts or emails... only on her terms, when she feels like it.
To illustrate/recap part of the passive-aggressive loop of behavior, I'm my niece's godmother, and apparently that means nothing. Because the one thing beyond the baptism that I KNOW a godmother should be present for, the First Communion, I was excluded from that--and only know it took place, informed in a very non-chalant, matter-of-fact way. It's been a few years, and it still irks me. Don't include me? Fine. Don't get assy if I opt out of things, then!
Last December when I visited (and pretty much exploded with rage at my mother about everything--GEE THANKS WELLBUTRIN FOR THAT!), I found out that my sister has changed her will and changed who gets guardianship of my niece should anything befall my sister and her husband. And I am no longer going to be her guardian. Could you imagine how devastating it would be for me to not only grieve for my sister (if/when she dies) but also be sucker punched at the same time, and find out about this? How is this not passive aggressive?
Last year I said to my mom (among other things): how I found it utterly hilarious how everyone resents the fact I'm never around, and everyone acts like they, and they alone, are entitled to feel disappointed or hurt or whatever about it. I'm supposed to just accept everyone's limitations or inability or unwillingness to meet me halfway, and fuck me and my limits. My focus is on my life with the Maharajah. The singular person I can count on in this life is my husband. He's there. He steps up. He doesn't give me STUFF, he gives of HIMSELF. I have a finite amount of energy. I work. I have a husband and a household and a life of my own over a hundred and twenty-five miles away. So whatever energy I have after working all day and taking care of the household shit? Yeah. My energy goes towards HIM and the life we have. Everyone else is living their lives how they see fit, and I am doing the same, yet I am vilified.
Oh, last December, I worked myself up into such a tizzy. My mother actually teared up watching it. I think she was scared and upset seeing me that upset. Again, I go from a pretty mild baseline to HOLY SHIT EMOTIONAL EXPLOSION, and seems like it comes out of no where, when really, I'm such a slow boil that when I finally do build up enough pressure--I pretty much blow a gasket. (And no, I'm not going to sleep over my mom's house--familiarity breeds contempt. I find it too stressful for me, and to be fair, my mother is in fragile health and doesn't need a repeat performance of last December's rage.)
I am not going to be like a puppy nipping at her toes to call me. I tried. Thrice. And I'm not about to text my niece--because she, too, does not reply to my texts. I'm hurt and angry, and angry with myself too. Angry that I even dare to care anymore. Next month, the niece will turn 13. She's old enough to have a relationship with me if she wants, and obviously--she does not want. I am not about to force myself onto people who clearly don't want to spend time with me.
So. I am reverting back to my original plan. Hotel. Me. Downtime. Saturday I will probably head out early first Saturday a.m., to get the car maintenance done. Then head to my great-aunt's house to bestow some of the prototype batch of stuffed squid, to see if it passes the muster. I am sure she will enjoy the visit--and there's a built in limit to the visit, as she will go to mass Saturday evening. Works for me. Then I'll head to the shore, perhaps I'll find a way to fit in a visit with my high school bio teacher--provided he returns a call. Otherwise, I'll head further south, check in at the hotel, get a manicure and pedicure and/or go to see a movie of my choosing. Maybe take a hot bubble bath at the hotel--then have breakfast with my friend on Sunday a.m., then head to the holiday fuckfest, and head home, promptly at 5 or 6, if I am lucky.
My mom's family's holiday party is this weekend. So, I've been working out the logistics of that: finishing up MY sweater I hope to wear, gathering what few gift items I will be giving, planning out when to buy the supplies for the stuffed squid I plan on providing as my foodstuff-contribution, figuring out when I am going to be able to shoe horn time at the mechanic for an oil change/fluid top off/tire inspection. And last but not least, schedule a reservation at a hotel, so I don't have to make that horrible drive down a touch-and-go in one day. 125 miles one way (2.5 hours on a GOOD day) + bifocals + driving alone + returning home at night + thanklessness = Regret and reluctance.
My fleeting initial thought was, I would invite my (almost 13 year old) niece for a girl's night out, sleep over, since I rarely see her. And if the hotel had an indoor pool, all the better. I had been waffling about inviting my niece, as I like to have ME time, and it's a long drive to get there (hence the hotel room), etc. Anyway. I can stop worrying about inviting her. My sister's inaction pretty much has decided for me.
It's very upsetting for me, because I feel the seething resentment, percolating beneath the surface, beneath the veneer of "cordial enough" from my sister, because (yes, there I go again, beating this dead horse) of the fact I live so far away and am NOT THERE. Never meeting me halfway (even if she's a scant 30 minutes from my house when she goes to NYC), never returning my calls or texts or emails... only on her terms, when she feels like it.
To illustrate/recap part of the passive-aggressive loop of behavior, I'm my niece's godmother, and apparently that means nothing. Because the one thing beyond the baptism that I KNOW a godmother should be present for, the First Communion, I was excluded from that--and only know it took place, informed in a very non-chalant, matter-of-fact way. It's been a few years, and it still irks me. Don't include me? Fine. Don't get assy if I opt out of things, then!
Last December when I visited (and pretty much exploded with rage at my mother about everything--GEE THANKS WELLBUTRIN FOR THAT!), I found out that my sister has changed her will and changed who gets guardianship of my niece should anything befall my sister and her husband. And I am no longer going to be her guardian. Could you imagine how devastating it would be for me to not only grieve for my sister (if/when she dies) but also be sucker punched at the same time, and find out about this? How is this not passive aggressive?
Last year I said to my mom (among other things): how I found it utterly hilarious how everyone resents the fact I'm never around, and everyone acts like they, and they alone, are entitled to feel disappointed or hurt or whatever about it. I'm supposed to just accept everyone's limitations or inability or unwillingness to meet me halfway, and fuck me and my limits. My focus is on my life with the Maharajah. The singular person I can count on in this life is my husband. He's there. He steps up. He doesn't give me STUFF, he gives of HIMSELF. I have a finite amount of energy. I work. I have a husband and a household and a life of my own over a hundred and twenty-five miles away. So whatever energy I have after working all day and taking care of the household shit? Yeah. My energy goes towards HIM and the life we have. Everyone else is living their lives how they see fit, and I am doing the same, yet I am vilified.
Oh, last December, I worked myself up into such a tizzy. My mother actually teared up watching it. I think she was scared and upset seeing me that upset. Again, I go from a pretty mild baseline to HOLY SHIT EMOTIONAL EXPLOSION, and seems like it comes out of no where, when really, I'm such a slow boil that when I finally do build up enough pressure--I pretty much blow a gasket. (And no, I'm not going to sleep over my mom's house--familiarity breeds contempt. I find it too stressful for me, and to be fair, my mother is in fragile health and doesn't need a repeat performance of last December's rage.)
I am not going to be like a puppy nipping at her toes to call me. I tried. Thrice. And I'm not about to text my niece--because she, too, does not reply to my texts. I'm hurt and angry, and angry with myself too. Angry that I even dare to care anymore. Next month, the niece will turn 13. She's old enough to have a relationship with me if she wants, and obviously--she does not want. I am not about to force myself onto people who clearly don't want to spend time with me.
So. I am reverting back to my original plan. Hotel. Me. Downtime. Saturday I will probably head out early first Saturday a.m., to get the car maintenance done. Then head to my great-aunt's house to bestow some of the prototype batch of stuffed squid, to see if it passes the muster. I am sure she will enjoy the visit--and there's a built in limit to the visit, as she will go to mass Saturday evening. Works for me. Then I'll head to the shore, perhaps I'll find a way to fit in a visit with my high school bio teacher--provided he returns a call. Otherwise, I'll head further south, check in at the hotel, get a manicure and pedicure and/or go to see a movie of my choosing. Maybe take a hot bubble bath at the hotel--then have breakfast with my friend on Sunday a.m., then head to the holiday fuckfest, and head home, promptly at 5 or 6, if I am lucky.
Monday, December 1, 2014
Good Times, Audrey.
Aunt was down to visit Audrey on Weds and to help set up for Thanksgiving.
After food prep, they ordered a white pie for dinner. Aunt decides to grab the poultry shears and cuts two slices. Mom recoils a bit and says, "I cut my toenails with those shears," then goes into detail about, "look at my feet, how do you think I broke that one side of the shears?"
Aunt is disgusted and in shock Audrey would keep those shears in her flatware drawer. "Those two slices are yours," and of course, aunt finds this utterly revolting. While mom is telling me this, I am disgusted, shrieking out "Jesus Christ! Oh god, your toenails are HIDEOUS! Jesus Christ!!!!"
It is at this point in the story, when you're grossed out and in shock, and disgusted about toenail-meet-pizza that mom reveals you've been HAD, that it is a joke, which just makes you laugh in relief as hard as you were experiencing disgust.
Remember in April when I discovered used insulin syringes in that bushel of books I almost dropped off at Goodwill? Yeah. I'm not thoroughly convinced she does NOT clip her hideous toenails with those shears. Anything's possible.
End note: While Audrey would no doubt never allow me to photograph her fucked up feet, I did try to Google image search "diabetes, feet, cellulitis" for a fitting image that came close to capturing the what-the-holy-ever-loving-fuck that is her feet, and well, I shall spare you THAT image. And right about now, I'm regretting the choice to look for a suitable photo to stand in for or represent her feet. My abdomen is all kinds of twitchy, in that pre-puke kind of twitchy. I don't recommend Google image searching that shit.
After food prep, they ordered a white pie for dinner. Aunt decides to grab the poultry shears and cuts two slices. Mom recoils a bit and says, "I cut my toenails with those shears," then goes into detail about, "look at my feet, how do you think I broke that one side of the shears?"
Aunt is disgusted and in shock Audrey would keep those shears in her flatware drawer. "Those two slices are yours," and of course, aunt finds this utterly revolting. While mom is telling me this, I am disgusted, shrieking out "Jesus Christ! Oh god, your toenails are HIDEOUS! Jesus Christ!!!!"
It is at this point in the story, when you're grossed out and in shock, and disgusted about toenail-meet-pizza that mom reveals you've been HAD, that it is a joke, which just makes you laugh in relief as hard as you were experiencing disgust.
Remember in April when I discovered used insulin syringes in that bushel of books I almost dropped off at Goodwill? Yeah. I'm not thoroughly convinced she does NOT clip her hideous toenails with those shears. Anything's possible.
End note: While Audrey would no doubt never allow me to photograph her fucked up feet, I did try to Google image search "diabetes, feet, cellulitis" for a fitting image that came close to capturing the what-the-holy-ever-loving-fuck that is her feet, and well, I shall spare you THAT image. And right about now, I'm regretting the choice to look for a suitable photo to stand in for or represent her feet. My abdomen is all kinds of twitchy, in that pre-puke kind of twitchy. I don't recommend Google image searching that shit.
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
My Stalker: Part 15
This is a micro-report. Nothing really to report other than zero interactions with him directly. I haven't even seen him, as most nights I leave before he moves to the front desk, and on the one night he was there, I went out the back door. So, status quo has been maintained.
When I asked the Haitian doorman today if there's anything to report. And he replied, "Oh! You're driving him crazy!" I replied, "*I* am doing nothing. He's driving HIMSELF crazy!"
So while there is no new interactions with the stalker, he is still there like a terrier with a bone, chewing on the fact that he is now on the outside of my sphere of give-a-fuck.
When I asked the Haitian doorman today if there's anything to report. And he replied, "Oh! You're driving him crazy!" I replied, "*I* am doing nothing. He's driving HIMSELF crazy!"
So while there is no new interactions with the stalker, he is still there like a terrier with a bone, chewing on the fact that he is now on the outside of my sphere of give-a-fuck.
Thursday, November 13, 2014
Fall 2014 Family Fuckfest Tour: Full on Rumination
Tueday's session with the therapist highlighted the fucked-upped-ness of my mom agreeing with my stalker, then a brief update on the stalker situation itself (inert, I suspect the Haitian door man told him to back off or else I'd contact their manager), and then of course, the full on existential angst I now find myself in, which has me reliving my grief of the loss of my dad all over again, and made me (temporarily, at least) question who, exactly, I was to him, as I went my whole life thinking we were confidantes.
It is very possible dad took some secrets to his grave--one of which may have directly impacted my opinion on who had access to him post-op, and eventually at his funeral, casting me as a cruel bitch. Still trying to sort out the timeline of things. And I'll try to stay on point in this blog post, and try to limit the babble.
The drive to the shore was uneventful. For a "pre-family fuck fest" blast of dopamine, I stopped off at Delicious Orchards for some cheesey stuffs for the Thanksgiving I will be hosting in secret at my home, and four pounds of coffee beans, oh and a still-warm no-sugar added apple pie for mom. A quick pitstop before heading on my way.
I called Audrey as I arrived at the orchards, and said (verbatim):
Me: "Wash your face, put in your teeth. I'm coming for coffee." I don't know if she was put off or if she thought I was joking or what.
Her: (real agitated) "What what?" I just went silent.
Me: "I am coming for coffee, will be there in an hour and a half, get ready."
Her: "Are you serious?"
Me: "If you don't want me to visit, say something now, and I'll spend more time with my sister and brother."
I show up, put a pot of coffee up (I bought some amaretto flavored coffee for her, had it ground for drip--and even bought some half and half, because even if she had it in house, who knows how close it is to expiration--because, RECAP! She has been known to eat rotten food or drink spoiled milk.) I then informed her, "In order to visit all three of you, I have to stick to a schedule." And with that, I set the timer on my cell phone to go off in an hour and a half. She got the lion's share of time, as my siblings each got an hour and ten minutes. (Mind you, when I told my therapist this, he yelped out a bit of laughter and said, "You set a timer?" To which I proudly and firmly said, "Hell yes!"
I even brought two baby bells and some crackers, and ate my first mini meal of the day then and there. Sat and crocheted. And there was a moment where I could tell I wasn't interesting enough for her, and she turned on the t.v. I sat there crocheting and keeping an eye on the clock, and even short shrifted her 15 minutes because, hey, I surprised her with a visit, albeit a short one, and she can't be focused on the RIGHT NOW without having the t.v. blaring? Yeah. I folded up my stuff, tucked it in the bag, and voila the alarm went off. I attempted to call my sister, and it went to voice mail. Mom: "You're just going to pop in there without calling?" Me: "Yes. And if she doesn't answer the door, no problem, I'll head to my brother's."
I arrive at my sister's and realize that none of the keys on my ring are for her door. I think she lost her keys and had the locks all redone a while back, and now I cannot remove the keys without being at mom's house first as one of them is for mom's front door. I knock on the door, and no one comes to the door. I know my sis and niece are in there, and I can hear what I suspect is a vacuum going. There she is, in full on OCD glory, knee horribly swollen and in pain, there she is, vacuuming, and tidying the house, as she's going to have a housekeeper come in the next day for a deep clean. (I don't understand this at all.)
Anyway, I waited until the vacuum stopped, and I knocked again. My niece answered the door, seemed surprised to see me, but not in an exceeding amount of surprise. Her face lit up, but no hugs or kisses, and then seemed distracted or uninterested. (And of course, my post-visit text, "Hope you enjoyed the visit!" went unacknowledged/unanswered.)
My sister of course, was hell bent on tidying up while I was there, which I could care less about. It was cluttered but not HOARDER level cluttered, but at the core of it all, the house is HYGIENIC, unlike my brother's house which is tidy, but filthy. We sat and bullshitted for a while. I had two sweaters which were a work in progress (sleeves need to be done, and buttons affixed, but other than that, the bodies of the sweaters are done), and demanded my niece try them both on to see how they fit, and then she had to choose which one she liked better. Once it was decided, I said, "Good. Act surprised when you see it at Christmas.") Again, I set a timer and when it went off, time to head to my brother's house.
The timing for my brother's visit was perfect, as TheYentaBeast was heading to temple to say kaddish. I said, "Oh. Sorry for your loss, and sorry but when you arrive home, I'll probably be gone, as I need to leave by 5 in order to pick up the husband at the train." Short and sweet, I said what needed to be said, and to be honest, this was much more than she did for me when my dad died. Fortunately, she did not approach me or try to get a hug out of me, because let's not get crazy! I have not lost my mind. I'm extending condolences, not looking for a warm and fuzzy moment with a cold and prickly bitch.
I sat and bullshitted with my brother for about an hour, about his defibrillator, how he's going next week to find out about getting one surgically implanted, etc. And how all this might end up costing him his CDL and by extension, his job. About fifteen minutes into the visit, who should call on my cell? AUDREY. And I answered the phone thusly:
Me: What's the deal, woman? An hour and a half was not enough time? You're interrupting my brother's hour of face time!"
Her: I wanted to know if you saw your sister.
Me: Yes. This call could have waited until later. Bye.
Brother and I chatted about mom and the stalker, and how she AGREES with the stalker. And I reiterated, "It's just like you said, she opens her mouth and nothing but stupid falls out." He said, "What do you expect? She "friended" your molester on FB, and after I reminded her of you being molested by him, that wasn't enough for her to unfriend him. She eventually unfriended him later, only after he attacked her vanity by saying outright it's deceptive to use a 30 year old photo as her profile picture."
And touching on that, the molestation (and to clarify, I was molested twice, once by this cousin, and once by my mother's youngest brother) the only time my mother showed any interest in us or anyone, was in anything remotely sexual--so perhaps it's no wonder I was molested twice, and for a time was quite a super slut, no surprise my brother is addicted to porn--with zero self awareness about appropriateness of discussing it in mixed company, or that my sister, I believe, is sexually repressed. We're all damaged.
Then! The existential shit hit the fan. My brother told me about how our dad's youngest sister, the dope-addled one, reached out to him via FB I guess in an attempt to mend fences or have some sense of family or whatever. In doing so, talked smack about our father, mother, me... whatever. And she dropped enough information that was timely enough to give both my brother and I enough pause to believe that it was plausible that dad and his dope-addled sister *might have been* in the process of reconciling before he died.
I'm still trying to flesh out the timeline, because, as of 2004, dad had forwarded me an email from her, which was just nothing more than a hate filled screed. Whatever information she mentioned then was pertinent to then, and not necessarily timely in 2008 when he died. I suspect they were trying to reconcile prior to her screed in 2004.
She harbors a lot of hostility towards me, as with dad's blessing, I did reply to the screed on his behalf, given how ill he was. Though, this was the unenlightened me grasping the low hanging fruit. The best thing to have done at the time would have been to just simply hit the delete button and not give this nutjob any further access.
But there is that lingering doubt, wondering if in the four years leading up to dad's death he was or wasn't trying to reconcile in private. A lot of what was in the screed dates back to our great-grandmother dying in 1988. The screed is now 10 years old. And dad has been dead six years. It's like every time she gets a snootful of blow or gets half a load on with booze, she decides to try to reach out to someone, to continue to point out the assorted injustices she's endured or to rewrite ancient history and paint herself as the misunderstood victim, and what a bitch I am, etc.
She's an addict. For the most part, they are manipulators and cons. In the FB message, Dope-addled Aunty blames ME me squarely for her lack of access to dad in the hospital, as well as barring her from the funeral. AS IF I wielded that much influence over my family.
Bottom line is, I was asked if I thought she should have access to dad or to the funeral, and going on the information as I knew it, which was the last interaction was the screed of 2004, I said no. But everyone had an opinion. And the decision was made as a family unit by consensus. Yet, she hates me and blames me entirely for her inability to say goodbye.
That aside, the drive home from my brother's is 2.5 hours, and once I was about a half hour from home, I called him on my cell and put it on speaker phone and continued to talk about the message on FB, I found her hatred of me disturbing, because to be honest, since my reply to the screed? I have not given her a moment's thought. We share DNA and nothing else, and I don't want to participate in this rage filled circle jerk.
My brother talked me out of the notion of emailing Doper-aunty to clarify things. I think the prudent thing is to double check with "C" to find out if there was an 11th hour reconciliation going on, at all, or if all of Doper-aunty's ramblings were the ramblings of a drunk, hell bent on settling some great score. I think once I see "C" next month, I might have my answer to that. I just want some context. Though it is entirely possible the drugs and drink hare distorting the events as Doper-Aunty is reporting them.
I am not an intentionally cruel person. It tears me up to think that IF dad and Doper-Aunty were in the act of reconciling, my opinion IN PART played into her direct inability to say good bye to him.
Also? Much in the way where I lived my life thinking "I'm my father's daughter..." and then when he died, I was like, "if he doesn't exist anymore, who am I?" I now am devastated at the thought that all my life, or at least from age 15 forwards until his death, I always thought we were confidantes, that there were no secrets between us. Initially it tore me up at the thought that he could have been reconciling with his sister, and he did not tell me. He did not tell any of us. And I need to find out from "C" what her version of the story is, to see if he told her, or if all the stuff mentioned in the FB message is OLD SHIT not stuff right before he died.
Existentially, I was devastated at the notion that I wasn't who I thought I was all my life. I feel like some "enforcer" brought in to fight his fight (in that email screed) yet, wasn't privvy to the reconciliation. He trusted me with the knowledge that if he pulled through the surgery, he was going to leave my mom. Yet, he didn't trust me with the information that he was reconciling with Laurie.
Ultimately, Doper-Aunty is not to be trusted, is potentially dangerous, and is looking to hurt anyone and everyone she can. I fixated a bit on the bruised ego, and wondered why he didn't trust me enough with this information--this, of course, could all be moot, depending on what "C" says. Three more weeks until I see her face to face.
It is very possible dad took some secrets to his grave--one of which may have directly impacted my opinion on who had access to him post-op, and eventually at his funeral, casting me as a cruel bitch. Still trying to sort out the timeline of things. And I'll try to stay on point in this blog post, and try to limit the babble.
The drive to the shore was uneventful. For a "pre-family fuck fest" blast of dopamine, I stopped off at Delicious Orchards for some cheesey stuffs for the Thanksgiving I will be hosting in secret at my home, and four pounds of coffee beans, oh and a still-warm no-sugar added apple pie for mom. A quick pitstop before heading on my way.
I called Audrey as I arrived at the orchards, and said (verbatim):
Me: "Wash your face, put in your teeth. I'm coming for coffee." I don't know if she was put off or if she thought I was joking or what.
Her: (real agitated) "What what?" I just went silent.
Me: "I am coming for coffee, will be there in an hour and a half, get ready."
Her: "Are you serious?"
Me: "If you don't want me to visit, say something now, and I'll spend more time with my sister and brother."
I show up, put a pot of coffee up (I bought some amaretto flavored coffee for her, had it ground for drip--and even bought some half and half, because even if she had it in house, who knows how close it is to expiration--because, RECAP! She has been known to eat rotten food or drink spoiled milk.) I then informed her, "In order to visit all three of you, I have to stick to a schedule." And with that, I set the timer on my cell phone to go off in an hour and a half. She got the lion's share of time, as my siblings each got an hour and ten minutes. (Mind you, when I told my therapist this, he yelped out a bit of laughter and said, "You set a timer?" To which I proudly and firmly said, "Hell yes!"
I even brought two baby bells and some crackers, and ate my first mini meal of the day then and there. Sat and crocheted. And there was a moment where I could tell I wasn't interesting enough for her, and she turned on the t.v. I sat there crocheting and keeping an eye on the clock, and even short shrifted her 15 minutes because, hey, I surprised her with a visit, albeit a short one, and she can't be focused on the RIGHT NOW without having the t.v. blaring? Yeah. I folded up my stuff, tucked it in the bag, and voila the alarm went off. I attempted to call my sister, and it went to voice mail. Mom: "You're just going to pop in there without calling?" Me: "Yes. And if she doesn't answer the door, no problem, I'll head to my brother's."
I arrive at my sister's and realize that none of the keys on my ring are for her door. I think she lost her keys and had the locks all redone a while back, and now I cannot remove the keys without being at mom's house first as one of them is for mom's front door. I knock on the door, and no one comes to the door. I know my sis and niece are in there, and I can hear what I suspect is a vacuum going. There she is, in full on OCD glory, knee horribly swollen and in pain, there she is, vacuuming, and tidying the house, as she's going to have a housekeeper come in the next day for a deep clean. (I don't understand this at all.)
Anyway, I waited until the vacuum stopped, and I knocked again. My niece answered the door, seemed surprised to see me, but not in an exceeding amount of surprise. Her face lit up, but no hugs or kisses, and then seemed distracted or uninterested. (And of course, my post-visit text, "Hope you enjoyed the visit!" went unacknowledged/unanswered.)
My sister of course, was hell bent on tidying up while I was there, which I could care less about. It was cluttered but not HOARDER level cluttered, but at the core of it all, the house is HYGIENIC, unlike my brother's house which is tidy, but filthy. We sat and bullshitted for a while. I had two sweaters which were a work in progress (sleeves need to be done, and buttons affixed, but other than that, the bodies of the sweaters are done), and demanded my niece try them both on to see how they fit, and then she had to choose which one she liked better. Once it was decided, I said, "Good. Act surprised when you see it at Christmas.") Again, I set a timer and when it went off, time to head to my brother's house.
The timing for my brother's visit was perfect, as TheYentaBeast was heading to temple to say kaddish. I said, "Oh. Sorry for your loss, and sorry but when you arrive home, I'll probably be gone, as I need to leave by 5 in order to pick up the husband at the train." Short and sweet, I said what needed to be said, and to be honest, this was much more than she did for me when my dad died. Fortunately, she did not approach me or try to get a hug out of me, because let's not get crazy! I have not lost my mind. I'm extending condolences, not looking for a warm and fuzzy moment with a cold and prickly bitch.
I sat and bullshitted with my brother for about an hour, about his defibrillator, how he's going next week to find out about getting one surgically implanted, etc. And how all this might end up costing him his CDL and by extension, his job. About fifteen minutes into the visit, who should call on my cell? AUDREY. And I answered the phone thusly:
Me: What's the deal, woman? An hour and a half was not enough time? You're interrupting my brother's hour of face time!"
Her: I wanted to know if you saw your sister.
Me: Yes. This call could have waited until later. Bye.
Brother and I chatted about mom and the stalker, and how she AGREES with the stalker. And I reiterated, "It's just like you said, she opens her mouth and nothing but stupid falls out." He said, "What do you expect? She "friended" your molester on FB, and after I reminded her of you being molested by him, that wasn't enough for her to unfriend him. She eventually unfriended him later, only after he attacked her vanity by saying outright it's deceptive to use a 30 year old photo as her profile picture."
And touching on that, the molestation (and to clarify, I was molested twice, once by this cousin, and once by my mother's youngest brother) the only time my mother showed any interest in us or anyone, was in anything remotely sexual--so perhaps it's no wonder I was molested twice, and for a time was quite a super slut, no surprise my brother is addicted to porn--with zero self awareness about appropriateness of discussing it in mixed company, or that my sister, I believe, is sexually repressed. We're all damaged.
Then! The existential shit hit the fan. My brother told me about how our dad's youngest sister, the dope-addled one, reached out to him via FB I guess in an attempt to mend fences or have some sense of family or whatever. In doing so, talked smack about our father, mother, me... whatever. And she dropped enough information that was timely enough to give both my brother and I enough pause to believe that it was plausible that dad and his dope-addled sister *might have been* in the process of reconciling before he died.
I'm still trying to flesh out the timeline, because, as of 2004, dad had forwarded me an email from her, which was just nothing more than a hate filled screed. Whatever information she mentioned then was pertinent to then, and not necessarily timely in 2008 when he died. I suspect they were trying to reconcile prior to her screed in 2004.
She harbors a lot of hostility towards me, as with dad's blessing, I did reply to the screed on his behalf, given how ill he was. Though, this was the unenlightened me grasping the low hanging fruit. The best thing to have done at the time would have been to just simply hit the delete button and not give this nutjob any further access.
But there is that lingering doubt, wondering if in the four years leading up to dad's death he was or wasn't trying to reconcile in private. A lot of what was in the screed dates back to our great-grandmother dying in 1988. The screed is now 10 years old. And dad has been dead six years. It's like every time she gets a snootful of blow or gets half a load on with booze, she decides to try to reach out to someone, to continue to point out the assorted injustices she's endured or to rewrite ancient history and paint herself as the misunderstood victim, and what a bitch I am, etc.
She's an addict. For the most part, they are manipulators and cons. In the FB message, Dope-addled Aunty blames ME me squarely for her lack of access to dad in the hospital, as well as barring her from the funeral. AS IF I wielded that much influence over my family.
Bottom line is, I was asked if I thought she should have access to dad or to the funeral, and going on the information as I knew it, which was the last interaction was the screed of 2004, I said no. But everyone had an opinion. And the decision was made as a family unit by consensus. Yet, she hates me and blames me entirely for her inability to say goodbye.
That aside, the drive home from my brother's is 2.5 hours, and once I was about a half hour from home, I called him on my cell and put it on speaker phone and continued to talk about the message on FB, I found her hatred of me disturbing, because to be honest, since my reply to the screed? I have not given her a moment's thought. We share DNA and nothing else, and I don't want to participate in this rage filled circle jerk.
My brother talked me out of the notion of emailing Doper-aunty to clarify things. I think the prudent thing is to double check with "C" to find out if there was an 11th hour reconciliation going on, at all, or if all of Doper-aunty's ramblings were the ramblings of a drunk, hell bent on settling some great score. I think once I see "C" next month, I might have my answer to that. I just want some context. Though it is entirely possible the drugs and drink hare distorting the events as Doper-Aunty is reporting them.
I am not an intentionally cruel person. It tears me up to think that IF dad and Doper-Aunty were in the act of reconciling, my opinion IN PART played into her direct inability to say good bye to him.
Also? Much in the way where I lived my life thinking "I'm my father's daughter..." and then when he died, I was like, "if he doesn't exist anymore, who am I?" I now am devastated at the thought that all my life, or at least from age 15 forwards until his death, I always thought we were confidantes, that there were no secrets between us. Initially it tore me up at the thought that he could have been reconciling with his sister, and he did not tell me. He did not tell any of us. And I need to find out from "C" what her version of the story is, to see if he told her, or if all the stuff mentioned in the FB message is OLD SHIT not stuff right before he died.
Existentially, I was devastated at the notion that I wasn't who I thought I was all my life. I feel like some "enforcer" brought in to fight his fight (in that email screed) yet, wasn't privvy to the reconciliation. He trusted me with the knowledge that if he pulled through the surgery, he was going to leave my mom. Yet, he didn't trust me with the information that he was reconciling with Laurie.
Ultimately, Doper-Aunty is not to be trusted, is potentially dangerous, and is looking to hurt anyone and everyone she can. I fixated a bit on the bruised ego, and wondered why he didn't trust me enough with this information--this, of course, could all be moot, depending on what "C" says. Three more weeks until I see her face to face.
Monday, November 10, 2014
Nexus of Two Sociopaths
So of course, I had my weekly call with my mother (who
was just about in masturbatorial glee that she had something new to
report--my brother's father-in-law passed away on Friday). And during the call, she wanted a recap/update of the stalker situation. And of course, she had to open her mouth and let the stupid just tumble out: she agrees with my stalker's assessment that I am domineering.
Ironically, she kept insisting this, despite me saying that I lack the give-a-fuck whether anyone agrees with my point of view or not. "But you are you know... you have those tendencies..." I have absolutely ZERO DOUBT that if I were ever raped, she'd say I deserved it.
Still trying to stifle the urge to fixate on this. The irony is pungent. And well, at least she's consistent. I mean, I was molested by my own uncle, and her response (and my grandmother's) was to accuse me of being a slut.
PS: I was planning on going there for a visit tomorrow/Veterans Day because I won't be there for Thanksgiving. (Actually plan on visiting with her, set a timer, go see my sister if she's home as she's recovering from knee surgery, set a timer, and then go see my brother/do a shiva call before heading home.)
A shot of bourbon and a hard cider chaser awaits me when I return home tomorrow.
Ironically, she kept insisting this, despite me saying that I lack the give-a-fuck whether anyone agrees with my point of view or not. "But you are you know... you have those tendencies..." I have absolutely ZERO DOUBT that if I were ever raped, she'd say I deserved it.
Still trying to stifle the urge to fixate on this. The irony is pungent. And well, at least she's consistent. I mean, I was molested by my own uncle, and her response (and my grandmother's) was to accuse me of being a slut.
PS: I was planning on going there for a visit tomorrow/Veterans Day because I won't be there for Thanksgiving. (Actually plan on visiting with her, set a timer, go see my sister if she's home as she's recovering from knee surgery, set a timer, and then go see my brother/do a shiva call before heading home.)
A shot of bourbon and a hard cider chaser awaits me when I return home tomorrow.
Friday, October 31, 2014
My Stalker: Part 14 Still Percolatin'
So where we left off last week, was with me asking my friend to speak to the Stalker. Well, all I know is that from Friday until Wednesday, every time I walked through the lobby, the Stalker had not managed to get up to the front desk in time to glower at me as I traipsed through to exit.
So I talked to my friend on Wednesday to inquire if he had in fact spoken to the stalker. And no. So it was purely coincidental. I rescinded my request for him to talk to him, because if the Stalker goes without trying to engage me, and then my friend speaks to him, it might trigger the Stalker to fixate on me all over again.
So of course, Wednesday evening, after several nights of smooth sailing through the lobby, as I got out of the elevator and headed to the lobby, I saw he was there. I was approaching from behind, and as I was walking out with a group of people and walked past a pillar, I thought I was home free, and it was at that moment he turned around. I caught this in my peripheral vision, and I did not turn to lay eyes on him, nor did I acknowledge his presence with a cordial "have a nice night." I just kept walking.
Today I was informed that the Stalker allegedly told the Haitian doorman that he (Stalker) doesn’t know what he did to me. All I said to Haitian doorman was, “I told him. He knows what he did, and he doesn’t want to OWN up to his actions. Clearly he wants attention from me, and if he can’t get it from me, he’s going to get it from you. This whole fixation/obsession is sick. Protect yourself and disengage. He's just like our MOTHERS.”
And later on today, I called the security console and spoke to the Haitian doorman once more, to stress to him how this has been going on five-nearly-six weeks, and how creepy it is. And how I don't want to speak to their manager about this, but this is clearly upsetting me. And the Haitian doorman promised me to disengage, and try to defuse any future conversations the Stalker might initiate, invoking my name.
Only time will tell how much longer this ridiculous little drama will play out, but at least someone ELSE in security knows what's going on, and perhaps there's merit in that.
So I talked to my friend on Wednesday to inquire if he had in fact spoken to the stalker. And no. So it was purely coincidental. I rescinded my request for him to talk to him, because if the Stalker goes without trying to engage me, and then my friend speaks to him, it might trigger the Stalker to fixate on me all over again.
So of course, Wednesday evening, after several nights of smooth sailing through the lobby, as I got out of the elevator and headed to the lobby, I saw he was there. I was approaching from behind, and as I was walking out with a group of people and walked past a pillar, I thought I was home free, and it was at that moment he turned around. I caught this in my peripheral vision, and I did not turn to lay eyes on him, nor did I acknowledge his presence with a cordial "have a nice night." I just kept walking.
Today I was informed that the Stalker allegedly told the Haitian doorman that he (Stalker) doesn’t know what he did to me. All I said to Haitian doorman was, “I told him. He knows what he did, and he doesn’t want to OWN up to his actions. Clearly he wants attention from me, and if he can’t get it from me, he’s going to get it from you. This whole fixation/obsession is sick. Protect yourself and disengage. He's just like our MOTHERS.”
And later on today, I called the security console and spoke to the Haitian doorman once more, to stress to him how this has been going on five-nearly-six weeks, and how creepy it is. And how I don't want to speak to their manager about this, but this is clearly upsetting me. And the Haitian doorman promised me to disengage, and try to defuse any future conversations the Stalker might initiate, invoking my name.
Only time will tell how much longer this ridiculous little drama will play out, but at least someone ELSE in security knows what's going on, and perhaps there's merit in that.
Thursday, October 23, 2014
My Stalker: Part 13: Today's Lunch
It was a total act of serendipity that the two guys with whom I go out to lunch (1-2x a month) called me up to invite me out for lunch today. How coincidental, given a few short hours before, the Stalker called me on my desk phone etc (see previous update).
These two guys are investigators and were asking all kinds of questions about the stalker. Age, where he lived, name, etc etc. And they set about doing the same process of profiling him as I did. I joked (but hoped they'd take me up on it) about the idea of running a File 15 on him, and we joked about the possibility of a sneak and peak, in which case I quipped, "Make sure you check the freezer." And one of the guys parried back with, "Yeah, and your container (which he is so hot to return to me) will be in there with a body part in it!" And I replied, "Yeah, a vagina!" And one of the guys replied, "Nah, perhaps a nipple!" Sick fucks we are, that's for sure.
I illustrated the full life span of the friendship with Sal: "He went from enjoying my FOOD to becoming Fredo (from Godfather, in particular, Godfather II)." My friends knew instinctively what it means to get my food. That it is a sign that you're on the inside of the circle of trust. And Fredo? Godfather II Fredo? "You're dead to me."
But the two sweetest things were said by the older of the two friends. In reply to my question, "Hey, if I said you hurt my feelings, what would you say?" And without batting an eye, he said, "I'd say I'm sorry, of course!" And I replied back, "Yes! Because you have awareness, and you value me and our friendship... and you're not a sociopath!"
And the second sweetest thing he said was, "Yanno, I'll go mano a mano with him if you want. I'll tell him to leave you alone." I might just take him up on this offer as he casts an intimidating figure.
So we're wrapping up things at the restaurant, and about to settle up our tab, and our tradition is all of us take turns reading aloud our fortunes from our cookies. And this one was mine:
Oh how we laughed HARD at this one!
PS: An accord has been struck! My friend D., will be the "token testosterone" who will tell Sal to leave me the fuck alone. Obviously there's some sort of short-circuiting going on here, whether it's just outright obtuseness, age, or perhaps a machismo thing preventing Sal from processing the fact I want to be left alone. And perhaps having a man step in to tell him to back off might be the ticket. It also helps my cause that my friend in question looks "old timey, pinky ring type thug, slicked back hair, leather bomber jacket, and just an overall intimidating countenance. Plus? Friend in question is a cop.
These two guys are investigators and were asking all kinds of questions about the stalker. Age, where he lived, name, etc etc. And they set about doing the same process of profiling him as I did. I joked (but hoped they'd take me up on it) about the idea of running a File 15 on him, and we joked about the possibility of a sneak and peak, in which case I quipped, "Make sure you check the freezer." And one of the guys parried back with, "Yeah, and your container (which he is so hot to return to me) will be in there with a body part in it!" And I replied, "Yeah, a vagina!" And one of the guys replied, "Nah, perhaps a nipple!" Sick fucks we are, that's for sure.
I illustrated the full life span of the friendship with Sal: "He went from enjoying my FOOD to becoming Fredo (from Godfather, in particular, Godfather II)." My friends knew instinctively what it means to get my food. That it is a sign that you're on the inside of the circle of trust. And Fredo? Godfather II Fredo? "You're dead to me."
But the two sweetest things were said by the older of the two friends. In reply to my question, "Hey, if I said you hurt my feelings, what would you say?" And without batting an eye, he said, "I'd say I'm sorry, of course!" And I replied back, "Yes! Because you have awareness, and you value me and our friendship... and you're not a sociopath!"
And the second sweetest thing he said was, "Yanno, I'll go mano a mano with him if you want. I'll tell him to leave you alone." I might just take him up on this offer as he casts an intimidating figure.
So we're wrapping up things at the restaurant, and about to settle up our tab, and our tradition is all of us take turns reading aloud our fortunes from our cookies. And this one was mine:
PS: An accord has been struck! My friend D., will be the "token testosterone" who will tell Sal to leave me the fuck alone. Obviously there's some sort of short-circuiting going on here, whether it's just outright obtuseness, age, or perhaps a machismo thing preventing Sal from processing the fact I want to be left alone. And perhaps having a man step in to tell him to back off might be the ticket. It also helps my cause that my friend in question looks "old timey, pinky ring type thug, slicked back hair, leather bomber jacket, and just an overall intimidating countenance. Plus? Friend in question is a cop.
On Triggers
I have been in therapy since 2009.
When I first started therapy, it was in preparation for my gastric bypass in 2010. And I decided to piggy back other issues onto it. My dad passed away in 2008, so there was a lot of sorting through my grief. And of course, there's the pesky business of 40+ years of living within my mother's sphere of influence.
And my mother is, pretty much, what has primed me for things I find "triggery." I'm on high alert for these types of behavior traits in others.
My tipping point is thus: Once I see that certain behaviors have become habit and part of the overall character of someone with whom I've been cultivating a friendship, I pretty much go on personal access lock down, and start to disengage completely from people who exhibit some of these traits (and yes, there's some cross over of these traits):
I am on lock down. No new friends. And really, I'm not going too far out of my way currently for the friends I currently have. I am in self-preservation mode. Boundaries up. I've worked too hard at gaining a sense of self and worth to put myself out there and be vulnerable. My energies are focused inward. This is not due to some overwhelming sense of selfishness, but out of fiercely protecting my SELF, and fact that I feel things VERY strongly and VERY deeply, and things that wouldn't hurt someone else, tend to hurt me immensely. For me, the lock down is all about control. At the moment, I'm trying to control my immediate environment, and by extension, my emotions.
When I first started therapy, it was in preparation for my gastric bypass in 2010. And I decided to piggy back other issues onto it. My dad passed away in 2008, so there was a lot of sorting through my grief. And of course, there's the pesky business of 40+ years of living within my mother's sphere of influence.
And my mother is, pretty much, what has primed me for things I find "triggery." I'm on high alert for these types of behavior traits in others.
My tipping point is thus: Once I see that certain behaviors have become habit and part of the overall character of someone with whom I've been cultivating a friendship, I pretty much go on personal access lock down, and start to disengage completely from people who exhibit some of these traits (and yes, there's some cross over of these traits):
- The moment people are cruel (whether carelessly or intentionally) to me (or I bear witness to the cruelty directed at others);
- Hipocrisy or willful stupidity;
- Inability to help themselves, yet mocking my own attempts at tending to my own life and issues;
- Bigotry;
- Hostile speech;
- Misinterpreting my strength or confidence as hubris or arrogance;
- Destructive speech/tearing me down, "take take take" rather than build me up or otherwise invest or "give give give" to cultivate the friendship;
- Increasing frequency of demands of my time, energy or actions;
- Outright disregard/disrespect for/of my boundaries.
I am on lock down. No new friends. And really, I'm not going too far out of my way currently for the friends I currently have. I am in self-preservation mode. Boundaries up. I've worked too hard at gaining a sense of self and worth to put myself out there and be vulnerable. My energies are focused inward. This is not due to some overwhelming sense of selfishness, but out of fiercely protecting my SELF, and fact that I feel things VERY strongly and VERY deeply, and things that wouldn't hurt someone else, tend to hurt me immensely. For me, the lock down is all about control. At the moment, I'm trying to control my immediate environment, and by extension, my emotions.
My Stalker: Part 12: Nuissance
I haven't exited via the back of the building for days. Half the time he's at the front desk, the other half he's not.
When he finally returned my book to me, I thought that would be the end of my interaction with him. But no. There was one day when I gave him a pint of homemade chili, and now the main attachment seems to be HIM reminding me that he needs to return my Rubbermaid container to me. Much like the book, I don't care if I get this container back. Just leave me the fuck alone, right?
Just now, I picked up my office phone, and there he was on the other end, asking to speak to me. Obviously he doesn't recognize MY voice, but I have a keen sense of voice recognition and I recognized HIS.
Again, returning a plastic container is not worthy of a call, when in all likelihood he's going to encounter me upon my exiting the building. So instead of forcing one interaction with the eventual hand off of the container, he's not forcing TWO interactions, with this unnecessary telephone call.
My response when I recognized his voice?
I HUNG UP THE PHONE.
Again, I dare say this is too subtle for him.
I cannot wait until this dog shit eventually works its way out of the grooves of my sneakers. I cannot wait to shake the stink off me.
And within five minutes of the call coming through, before hitting "update" on this post, I zapped him a text on his phone:
"Keep the container. Leave me alone."
For continuity purposes, I present a screen grab of the text. As you can see, the first text was in August right before his surgery. And the only other text was today's. It does not get much more direct than this, does it?
When he finally returned my book to me, I thought that would be the end of my interaction with him. But no. There was one day when I gave him a pint of homemade chili, and now the main attachment seems to be HIM reminding me that he needs to return my Rubbermaid container to me. Much like the book, I don't care if I get this container back. Just leave me the fuck alone, right?
Just now, I picked up my office phone, and there he was on the other end, asking to speak to me. Obviously he doesn't recognize MY voice, but I have a keen sense of voice recognition and I recognized HIS.
Again, returning a plastic container is not worthy of a call, when in all likelihood he's going to encounter me upon my exiting the building. So instead of forcing one interaction with the eventual hand off of the container, he's not forcing TWO interactions, with this unnecessary telephone call.
My response when I recognized his voice?
I HUNG UP THE PHONE.
Again, I dare say this is too subtle for him.
I cannot wait until this dog shit eventually works its way out of the grooves of my sneakers. I cannot wait to shake the stink off me.
And within five minutes of the call coming through, before hitting "update" on this post, I zapped him a text on his phone:
"Keep the container. Leave me alone."
For continuity purposes, I present a screen grab of the text. As you can see, the first text was in August right before his surgery. And the only other text was today's. It does not get much more direct than this, does it?
Thursday, October 16, 2014
My Stalker: Part 11: An Interaction
Last night I decided to deviate from the back exit strategy, despite the fact he was already at the front desk. The subtext of this move is, "I am not afraid of you."
And of course, in doing so, I was literally ONE FOOT OUT THE DOOR when he called out to me that he had my book. But of course, the book is in his locker, NOT at the front desk. All he got from me was the dead eyed stare of someone not amused, while he rushed to get the book. The only thing he said to me was "thank you." Whatever. I just kept walking.
I thought perhaps maybe he would have responded to my note in kind, with a note of his own, perhaps tucked inside the book. Once I got to the parking garage but before I got to my car, I opened the book up to see nothing but paper debris (receipts, business cards, etc) tucked inside, all of which I tossed in the trash. And the book in question? I placed on top of the trash bin, thinking if someone came along and wanted it, it was theirs for the taking. I did not want that book or its energy or attachment to him in my house.
Now that the book has been dealt with, thereby eliminating any further need or expectation of interaction, I am hoping this is the end of it. But I am still on my guard, and I have effectively and totally disengaged from him.
If for whatever reason he insists on trying to stop me again, I will be blunt and say, "What part of leave me alone, don't you GET?" and I'll just keep walking.
I remain convinced that he isn't aware he's dead to me.
And of course, in doing so, I was literally ONE FOOT OUT THE DOOR when he called out to me that he had my book. But of course, the book is in his locker, NOT at the front desk. All he got from me was the dead eyed stare of someone not amused, while he rushed to get the book. The only thing he said to me was "thank you." Whatever. I just kept walking.
I thought perhaps maybe he would have responded to my note in kind, with a note of his own, perhaps tucked inside the book. Once I got to the parking garage but before I got to my car, I opened the book up to see nothing but paper debris (receipts, business cards, etc) tucked inside, all of which I tossed in the trash. And the book in question? I placed on top of the trash bin, thinking if someone came along and wanted it, it was theirs for the taking. I did not want that book or its energy or attachment to him in my house.
Now that the book has been dealt with, thereby eliminating any further need or expectation of interaction, I am hoping this is the end of it. But I am still on my guard, and I have effectively and totally disengaged from him.
If for whatever reason he insists on trying to stop me again, I will be blunt and say, "What part of leave me alone, don't you GET?" and I'll just keep walking.
I remain convinced that he isn't aware he's dead to me.
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
A Moment of Levity
Given what I've been dealing with as of late, it makes my mother seem almost NORMAL.
Perspective is a glorious thing.
Perspective is a glorious thing.
My Stalker: Part 10: A Visual
The photo I am about to share harkens back to LAST Monday's run in, where it appeared as if he were lingering/loitering/LURKING between the two buildings for no apparent reason (other than, I suspect, to encounter me).
Where the arrow points to is a blind spot, which is not a fence, but a part of a retaining wall at the property line between the two buildings.
It’s not a place where someone with good intentions would linger.
And clearly, you see the entrance to the garage area that leads to the loading
dock. And given the time of evening, he should have been up at the front desk
10 minutes prior. So he was out there for a reason. And he doesn’t smoke, so
that is not a possibility.
Nothing has happened last night, but from now on when I exit, I’ll be doing so by crossing the street and bypassing that particular juncture. Soon with the roll back of daylight savings, it’ll start getting very dark very soon in the evenings, and well… you know I’m on high alert. I am ART OF WAR-ing the shit out of him (i.e., Know thy enemy). I plan on finding out the most info I can about the security guards. Just given the briefest amount of info from B., the former cop who will be retiring soon, but it doesn't appear as if the doormen are trained or vetted or bonded. So this is worrisome.
Not paranoid, but cautious. And above all else, I'm AWARE.
PS: FWIW, at Monday's session with my therapist, he thinks the way I am handling this is admirable. The entire session was devoted to the myriad of ways this entire scenario is chock full of WTF, and chock full of potential ways for this to go sideways or pear-shaped.
Where the arrow points to is a blind spot, which is not a fence, but a part of a retaining wall at the property line between the two buildings.
Nothing has happened last night, but from now on when I exit, I’ll be doing so by crossing the street and bypassing that particular juncture. Soon with the roll back of daylight savings, it’ll start getting very dark very soon in the evenings, and well… you know I’m on high alert. I am ART OF WAR-ing the shit out of him (i.e., Know thy enemy). I plan on finding out the most info I can about the security guards. Just given the briefest amount of info from B., the former cop who will be retiring soon, but it doesn't appear as if the doormen are trained or vetted or bonded. So this is worrisome.
Not paranoid, but cautious. And above all else, I'm AWARE.
PS: FWIW, at Monday's session with my therapist, he thinks the way I am handling this is admirable. The entire session was devoted to the myriad of ways this entire scenario is chock full of WTF, and chock full of potential ways for this to go sideways or pear-shaped.
Monday, October 13, 2014
My Stalker: Part 9: Night Terrors
I feel it worth mentioning that last night I had my first night terror in perhaps a full year. A full bodied, blood curdling scream. Imagine that. Screaming yourself awake. My heart pounding in my chest like pistons in a steam locomotive going at high speed.
As composed as I am, consciously, I worry that at my sub-conscious level, I'm much more distressed than I am allowing myself to experience or wallow.
It is now 1:38 a.m. Monday morning, and I'm afraid to go to sleep. And I know there are only so many times I can scream like this before, eventually, my neighbors call the cops on me, because SURELY it sounds as if someone were killing me.
As composed as I am, consciously, I worry that at my sub-conscious level, I'm much more distressed than I am allowing myself to experience or wallow.
It is now 1:38 a.m. Monday morning, and I'm afraid to go to sleep. And I know there are only so many times I can scream like this before, eventually, my neighbors call the cops on me, because SURELY it sounds as if someone were killing me.
Saturday, October 11, 2014
My Stalker: Part 8: My Judgement
So. About my stalker.
I don't view my befriending him as a sign my judgement is shitty. My first impulse in the past always was to turn my anger inward towards myself and my judgement. But here's the flaw with that logic or behavior: My judgement has been spectacular in the past, as that same judgement has led to me marrying my current husband, and has been spectacular in the cultivation of friendships, some of which have lasted upwards of nearing-three decades long.
I see my judgement as nothing short of stellar, and see the cultivation of that friendship as a testament to how manipulative and persuasive this SOCIOPATH is. I have been forthright with how I have presented myself, and sadly only over time was I able to discern he was misrepresenting himself. If, and only if things do escalate to the point of me reporting both, to my boss and his, I neither think I "deserved this" nor was I "asking for it," because at my core, I was nothing short of kind and "nice" to this person, even far longer than his behaviors really deserved. And in the end, my judgement demanded I starve the beast. Cautious and slow to act, but in the end, I judged and acted in accordance to my own dignity and integrity.
I actually had to articulate that very fact (I did not deserve this, I did not ASK FOR IT) to my mother, who is still living in the dark ages when "Let's blame the victim to justify the horrible act!"
So my tack is to starve the beast of the very thing it feasts upon: attention.
Monday will mark the third week of starving the beast.
I don't view my befriending him as a sign my judgement is shitty. My first impulse in the past always was to turn my anger inward towards myself and my judgement. But here's the flaw with that logic or behavior: My judgement has been spectacular in the past, as that same judgement has led to me marrying my current husband, and has been spectacular in the cultivation of friendships, some of which have lasted upwards of nearing-three decades long.
I see my judgement as nothing short of stellar, and see the cultivation of that friendship as a testament to how manipulative and persuasive this SOCIOPATH is. I have been forthright with how I have presented myself, and sadly only over time was I able to discern he was misrepresenting himself. If, and only if things do escalate to the point of me reporting both, to my boss and his, I neither think I "deserved this" nor was I "asking for it," because at my core, I was nothing short of kind and "nice" to this person, even far longer than his behaviors really deserved. And in the end, my judgement demanded I starve the beast. Cautious and slow to act, but in the end, I judged and acted in accordance to my own dignity and integrity.
I actually had to articulate that very fact (I did not deserve this, I did not ASK FOR IT) to my mother, who is still living in the dark ages when "Let's blame the victim to justify the horrible act!"
So my tack is to starve the beast of the very thing it feasts upon: attention.
Monday will mark the third week of starving the beast.
Friday, October 10, 2014
My Stalker: Part 7: Pepper Spray
I've attempted to order via Amazon, however, it's illegal to mail pepper spray in New York State. I contacted the nearest sporting goods store proximal to my office, and they don't sell pepper spray within the city limits. I'm undaunted, and researching, and if I have to hop the border to New Jersey this weekend to do so, I will, so I can ensure I am as armed for my own protection.
That being said, I found this useful information on the legal-ese of pepper spray in New York State:
That being said, I found this useful information on the legal-ese of pepper spray in New York State:
"FROM New York State Penal Law Exemption of Weapons Law §265. Sale of "self-defense spray device" Section §265.20
14.Possession in accordance with the provisions of this paragraph of a
self-defense spray device as defined herein for the protection of a
person or property and use of such self-defense spray device under
circumstances which would justify the use of physical force pursuant to
article thirty-five of this chapter.
(a) As used in this section "self-defense spray device" shall mean a pocket sized spray device which contains and releases a chemical or organic substance which is intended to produce temporary physical discomfort or disability through being vaporized or otherwise dispensed in the air or any like device containing pepper or similar disabling agent.
(b) The exemption under this paragraph shall not apply to a person who:
(i) is less than eighteen years of age; or
(ii) has been previously convicted in this state of a felony or any assault; or
(iii) has been convicted of a crime outside the state of New York which if committed in New York would constitute a felony or any assault crime."
(a) As used in this section "self-defense spray device" shall mean a pocket sized spray device which contains and releases a chemical or organic substance which is intended to produce temporary physical discomfort or disability through being vaporized or otherwise dispensed in the air or any like device containing pepper or similar disabling agent.
(b) The exemption under this paragraph shall not apply to a person who:
(i) is less than eighteen years of age; or
(ii) has been previously convicted in this state of a felony or any assault; or
(iii) has been convicted of a crime outside the state of New York which if committed in New York would constitute a felony or any assault crime."
My Stalker: Part 6: Strategic Avoidance & Escalation Abatement
There's a couple of things which are at play which prevent me from going to my boss and perhaps HIS.
1. This act could escalate things beyond where they are right now. Whether it's him being reprimanded, or worse, losing his job. I don't need him to fixate on me any further than he already, obviously is.
2. I remain unimpressed and distressed with my rapport (actually, the LACK of rapport) with one of my two "bossmen." Any time I come to him with any concern, he thinks I am a nag and negative and quite possibly a bitch. I've come to him about actual administrative shit, and he shrugs it off, at one point said "I don't have time for this shit," and even goes so far as to rarely, if ever, acknowledging my emails. It's distressing to be marginalized. Also, I've been harassed IN FRONT OF HIM by someone else, and he stood there and did nothing.
I don't see much good coming from either of these two scenarios. So. The only thing I am doing, in football parlance, "the best defense is a good offense," and be aware of my surroundings, don't dawdle in remote areas of the building, and get the fuck out on time. Also: Carry pepper spray.
One co-worker knows (for sure, that I told, though I am sure some folks over-heard this), and my husband knows, too. I was talking about it this a.m. and said how I wasn't sure if it were coincidental or if I'm just paranoid, but I am convinced he is still stalking me on the security cameras. Husband agrees not to do anything until or unless he escalates it. Hopefully that won't happen, but you never know.
I am not overly threatened by him. He's almost 60, out of shape, just had surgery a month ago, so I'm sure I could just punch or kick him in his gut, and make a dash for it if he were to get aggressive with me. But the whole subtext of I AM WATCHING YOU is more than a bit creepy.
And I know he's spreading some sort of rumor about me, because this a.m., upon entering, out-of-the-blue, one of the maintenance men asked me if I were alright. I didn't ask what he meant by that, and just replied, "Of course." But I know that Sal is spreading some sort of rumor about me to explain away why I have been avoiding him like a raging case of Ebola.
That's all I got for now, but I think it'd be hilariously ironic if, upon returning from Dick's Sporting Goods, where I hope to buy a small canister of pepper spray, if he'd somehow or another force an interaction. However, I'll thwart his attempts by doing the switcheroo, by trespassing thru the neighboring high rise, in the most convoluted route possible, to re-enter my building by way of the lobby--and hopefully before he transitions from the loading dock to the front desk at 2 p.m.
ETA: Fuck Dick's Sporting Goods, and fuck New York State. They cannot sell pepper spray. I might have to make a trek over the border to Paramus this weekend to get a wee bit of aerosolized protection.
1. This act could escalate things beyond where they are right now. Whether it's him being reprimanded, or worse, losing his job. I don't need him to fixate on me any further than he already, obviously is.
2. I remain unimpressed and distressed with my rapport (actually, the LACK of rapport) with one of my two "bossmen." Any time I come to him with any concern, he thinks I am a nag and negative and quite possibly a bitch. I've come to him about actual administrative shit, and he shrugs it off, at one point said "I don't have time for this shit," and even goes so far as to rarely, if ever, acknowledging my emails. It's distressing to be marginalized. Also, I've been harassed IN FRONT OF HIM by someone else, and he stood there and did nothing.
I don't see much good coming from either of these two scenarios. So. The only thing I am doing, in football parlance, "the best defense is a good offense," and be aware of my surroundings, don't dawdle in remote areas of the building, and get the fuck out on time. Also: Carry pepper spray.
One co-worker knows (for sure, that I told, though I am sure some folks over-heard this), and my husband knows, too. I was talking about it this a.m. and said how I wasn't sure if it were coincidental or if I'm just paranoid, but I am convinced he is still stalking me on the security cameras. Husband agrees not to do anything until or unless he escalates it. Hopefully that won't happen, but you never know.
I am not overly threatened by him. He's almost 60, out of shape, just had surgery a month ago, so I'm sure I could just punch or kick him in his gut, and make a dash for it if he were to get aggressive with me. But the whole subtext of I AM WATCHING YOU is more than a bit creepy.
And I know he's spreading some sort of rumor about me, because this a.m., upon entering, out-of-the-blue, one of the maintenance men asked me if I were alright. I didn't ask what he meant by that, and just replied, "Of course." But I know that Sal is spreading some sort of rumor about me to explain away why I have been avoiding him like a raging case of Ebola.
That's all I got for now, but I think it'd be hilariously ironic if, upon returning from Dick's Sporting Goods, where I hope to buy a small canister of pepper spray, if he'd somehow or another force an interaction. However, I'll thwart his attempts by doing the switcheroo, by trespassing thru the neighboring high rise, in the most convoluted route possible, to re-enter my building by way of the lobby--and hopefully before he transitions from the loading dock to the front desk at 2 p.m.
ETA: Fuck Dick's Sporting Goods, and fuck New York State. They cannot sell pepper spray. I might have to make a trek over the border to Paramus this weekend to get a wee bit of aerosolized protection.
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
My Stalker: Part 5: On Paranoia
Now, of course, any/every little otherwise seemingly coincidental run in, whether it be Monday's run in outside at the back of the building, or today's run in at the elevator (seriously, he rushed the elevator, almost bumping into me), I cannot help but wonder if it's a coincidence or if it's the result of him stalking me via the security monitors.
My Stalker: Part 4: As It Stands, Currently
I'm
still doing the strategic avoidance routine with him. Trying to stay as
far away from him and the security monitors as possible.
Monday night, I was running a few minutes late, too late for me to try to escape by way of the lobby (before he transitions from the loading dock to the front console for his final hour of his work day), so I opted to go out the backdoor (subtext: Convoluted exit plan).
I come out, and think I'm home free, and just as I pass the garage entrance (which leads to the loading dock where he is most of the day), he quickly comes up around the corner (I don't know what he could possibly have been doing out there, as he was clearly between our building (#44) and the next building (#34, which is the building I have been trespassing through in order to avoid passing the front desk of #44).
He quickly came up and around the corner of the building to go back into the garage (was he waiting there for me? I honestly don't know), and I'm so near sighted (and polite) that before my brain could identify that it WAS HIM, I blurted out, "Hey," and he looked up and said, "Hey," and kept walking, with a sheepish type look on his face.
So that was the single, solitary interaction he's had with me since LAST MONDAY, and he neither: 1. Told me, "Let me get your book," or 2. Said "I'm sorry." He just kept walking. At this point, I couldn't care less if I get either the book or the apology. I feel fairly certain he is either intimidated by me that I was so direct (I told him what he was doing wrong, but didn't berate him or be cruel about it), or he thinks I am nuts. In either case, I have downgraded him from "Friend" to "Asshole," and quite possibly am going to label him (for future reference) as a sociopath. How could someone who (claims to have been) was a SOCIAL WORKER be so utterly clueless and classless? It baffles my mind. Even though I *know* that sociopaths hide in plain sight, usually in positions of power, and can be otherwise charming individuals. This makes them all the more sinister, IMHO.
So, tonight, with any luck, I will leave here about 10 minutes early, and will traipse thru the lobby, and hopefully he will not be there yet. And if he is, I'm just going to keep walking. I have nothing to be ashamed of. I am still not convinced that this is the very last of this saga given how last week escalated so quickly.
I have issued forth a new edict to the cosmos/universe: NO NEW FRIENDS. I very much feel like that line of dialogue from the movie As Good As It Gets, "Go Sell Crazy Some Place Else, We're All Stocked Up Here." I'd say I'm good with friends. I don't need a tribe of hundreds.
Monday night, I was running a few minutes late, too late for me to try to escape by way of the lobby (before he transitions from the loading dock to the front console for his final hour of his work day), so I opted to go out the backdoor (subtext: Convoluted exit plan).
I come out, and think I'm home free, and just as I pass the garage entrance (which leads to the loading dock where he is most of the day), he quickly comes up around the corner (I don't know what he could possibly have been doing out there, as he was clearly between our building (#44) and the next building (#34, which is the building I have been trespassing through in order to avoid passing the front desk of #44).
He quickly came up and around the corner of the building to go back into the garage (was he waiting there for me? I honestly don't know), and I'm so near sighted (and polite) that before my brain could identify that it WAS HIM, I blurted out, "Hey," and he looked up and said, "Hey," and kept walking, with a sheepish type look on his face.
So that was the single, solitary interaction he's had with me since LAST MONDAY, and he neither: 1. Told me, "Let me get your book," or 2. Said "I'm sorry." He just kept walking. At this point, I couldn't care less if I get either the book or the apology. I feel fairly certain he is either intimidated by me that I was so direct (I told him what he was doing wrong, but didn't berate him or be cruel about it), or he thinks I am nuts. In either case, I have downgraded him from "Friend" to "Asshole," and quite possibly am going to label him (for future reference) as a sociopath. How could someone who (claims to have been) was a SOCIAL WORKER be so utterly clueless and classless? It baffles my mind. Even though I *know* that sociopaths hide in plain sight, usually in positions of power, and can be otherwise charming individuals. This makes them all the more sinister, IMHO.
So, tonight, with any luck, I will leave here about 10 minutes early, and will traipse thru the lobby, and hopefully he will not be there yet. And if he is, I'm just going to keep walking. I have nothing to be ashamed of. I am still not convinced that this is the very last of this saga given how last week escalated so quickly.
I have issued forth a new edict to the cosmos/universe: NO NEW FRIENDS. I very much feel like that line of dialogue from the movie As Good As It Gets, "Go Sell Crazy Some Place Else, We're All Stocked Up Here." I'd say I'm good with friends. I don't need a tribe of hundreds.
My Stalker: Part 3: Lunchtime Collateral Damage
On the heels of the crazy shit with Sal, I am now trying to find
some place just TO BE by myself during my lunch hour. (And given that some of my readers are also introverts of sorts, I'm sure you could appreciate this chapter of the story.) Fuck me sideways, I am running out of potential places to hide.
My options:
I have been amazed that whatever feel good or even neutralish good feels I’ve had since my vacation last month have lasted this long, but now I’m back to my full on I HATE PEOPLE mode and really just want to be left alone.
Wednesdays are typically my day to leave the building, go to farmer’s market or whatever. But I have a feeling I’ll be disappearing every day now. Perhaps get a walk in and go to Whole Foods to just sit and bask in my anonymity.
My options:
- In my own suite of offices on the fifth floor, there are two conference rooms and a
back room filing room, with a shared kitchen/pantry area we share with our
regional office. All of these are off limits because ... “PEOPLE.“
- There’s a huge-ass cafeteria/cantina downstairs where everyone in
the entire building has access, and it’s really just horrible with noise
pollution, as well as “PEOPLE.”
I just want to sit quietly, and 100% of the time when I do, I do so in a corner
chair, facing out the windows, my back to everyone, and anyone with a modicum
of awareness would read that as LEAVE ME ALONE, and yet, people still approach
me to talk about what I am making. Nice enough as that is, I just want to be
left alone. To me, my crochet is like meditation. I don’t want nor need to be
engaged in mindless chitchat. Just like in the workplace shithouse... no chitchat. Just leave me the fuck alone.
Since I gave Sal “THE NOTE OF DOOM,” obviously I’ve burned that bridge, nor would I want to sit in his office bullshitting, even if he made an attempt at apology (which he hasn’t, and I doubt he will—PS: I actually ran into him Monday night, while I was doing my back door exit routine, thinking he was already at his post at the front desk—no such luck, and no such apology either), I’ve been IN SEARCH OF alternate places just to eat my lunch and BE ALONE, without having to leave the premises.
- So I go down to our LL2, which is a secure floor, and go into the
small kitchenette/pantry area down there, only to realize that the cleaning
lady has taken it upon herself to take her breaks in there (seriously, this is
a high rise building, surely they have areas for the maintenance people to take
their breaks—not in the areas where TENANTS ARE). I was down there on Friday
and yesterday, each day she’s in there, wasting time and drinking her weight in
Keurigs (without putting any money in the till—it’s on an honor system,
btw). Sidenote: She’s slacking off, and it’s chapping my ass—every workplace has them.
I have my hands full with my own fucking slacker.
Today I get down there five minutes later than my norm, and she’s got my spot, the table which is just about in a blindspot, behind a load bearing post. I don’t feel like sitting down there, listening to her chatter on her cell or smelling her weird food smells, so I’m AGAIN, off to find some place just to BE.
- I scurry off to the conference room also down on that level. Door
locked.
- No place else except what amounts to a small anteroom barely bigger than a closet where the investigators have their lockers, and a few file cabinets. Yep. That’s where I went. No chair, so I swiped JabippyLoo’s, given she’s working 4 to midnight tonight. I sat in an over glorified closet/file room and ate my lunch in solitude in there.
I have been amazed that whatever feel good or even neutralish good feels I’ve had since my vacation last month have lasted this long, but now I’m back to my full on I HATE PEOPLE mode and really just want to be left alone.
Wednesdays are typically my day to leave the building, go to farmer’s market or whatever. But I have a feeling I’ll be disappearing every day now. Perhaps get a walk in and go to Whole Foods to just sit and bask in my anonymity.
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