Feelin’ kinda like this today –
“Your abusive partner doesn’t have a problem with HIS anger; he has a problem with YOUR anger.”
That quote says it all about my relationship with the narc. I was not allowed to have feelings unless they fell into line with his. He would spend HOURS lecturing me about how my reaction to his latest BS was wrong and how he was going to help me learn “correct behavior.” Still makes my blood boil.
I highly recommend Lundy Bancroft’s “Why Does He Do That: Inside the minds of angry and abusive men” to anyone who doesn’t know WTF their partner is being such a dick. Okay, that might have been a bit biased, but the book really helped me sort out my feelings about the narc’s abusive ways and justified my decision to leave for good.
YOUR ABUSIVE PARTNER DOESN’T HAVE A PROBLEM WITH HIS ANGER; HE HAS A PROBLEM WITH YOUR ANGER.
One of the basic human rights he takes away from you is the right to be angry with him. No matter how badly he treats you, he believes that your voice shouldn’t rise and your blood shouldn’t boil. The privilege of rage is reserved for him alone. When your anger does jump out to you — as will happen to any abused woman from time to time — he is likely to try to jam it back down your throat as quickly as he can. Then he uses your anger against you to prove what an irrational person you are. Abuse can make you feel straitjacketed. You may develop physical or emotional reactions to swallowing your anger, such as depression, nightmares, emotional numbing, or eating and sleeping problems, which your partner may use…
View original post 174 more words
Spent a lovely day at the Studio Sunday. Sadly, the evening was shot.
The Kid has been fairly meek the past weeks that he’s been living with me. He has been going out to help Awana at the alpaca ranch and looking for work. He’s been respectful and (sorta) helpful around the place. We’ve talked about his alcoholism and he has seemed remorseful about where he finds himself due entirely to his own poor decision making. He has been sober and as “normal” as he’s ever been.
Until Sunday. I left the dog with him because she’d have to stay in the car otherwise. I left instructions about airing the place out as soon as it warmed up outside. I put the dog’s harness on and gave him very specific guidelines about how to handle her – there’s a new dog in the park that she doesn’t like and I don’t want to have any incidents.
I arrived home at 7:30 PM to find the door open, the screen door shut and the dog inside with her leash on. I told him specifically that the dog will push the screen door open and be GONE at the slightest provocation and he is not, under any circumstances, to leave the dog loose inside with only the screen door between her and freedom. I was VERY clear and made him repeat my instructions back to me.
The Kid was passed out on the couch, curled up into a ball. Snoring. I smelled something not quite identifiable the second I stepped inside. It wasn’t foul, but it didn’t belong. I tried to rouse him but was not successful. Okay, he hasn’t been sleeping well, so I’ll leave him alone, take care of the animals and we’ll talk about it later. I had drafting to do for The Other Boss.
He came to as I was getting settled in at the computer and when he sat up I knew what the smell was – booze of some sort, definitely not beer, his drink of choice.
Sigh. Fuck. Oh, yeah, he was totally wasted. He said he bought one 12 oz beer and that’s all he had. I told him he was lying. He stuck to his story. I continued to disbelieve him. I searched for the source of his inebriation and finally found it at the very back of the pantry – the tequila bottle was no longer sealed. He had drunk half the bottle. He continued to assert his innocence, but there was no way one beer fucked him up that badly.
After a couple of hours I went to bed, after supervising him pulling out the couch and assuring him that if he puked anywhere but in the toilet he would face my wrath. I was angry enough to chew nails.
Monday dawned and he looked like shit. I had locked all the liquor in my car* so there would be no repeating of this particular episode and I was pretty sure a tequila hangover would be punishment enough but I couldn’t resist a bit of lecturing. He admitted that he couldn’t really remember the previous night. Sigh.
Yesterday when I got home from work he was busy filling out job applications online. I tried to be calm as I told him I understand he’s a grown man and I have no right to dictate how he lives his life but this is my house and I won’t have him drinking while he’s staying with me. He was very apologetic. He made no promises. I, however, did promise to do my best to hound him into staying sober, to pound into his head that he is an alcoholic and a potential drug addict (his father was both, as were/are many of my relatives) and he will not be able to drink casually and I will not put up with his self destructive behavior under my roof. Get help or I will get it for you.
We’ll see where it goes from here. I’m still hopeful he’ll make the right choices but on the alert in case he stumbles again. I’ve been here so many times. I’m really tired of it now but I can’t abandon my son.
* Yeah, I should have done it before I picked him up, but I kinda thought a sealed bottle would dissuade him and he really prefers beer. I had no idea he would be stupid enough to drink half a bottle of tequila. Live and learn, as they say.
Hot on the heels of my Frustrations post, Aussa posted a snapshot of her typical work day. This post was followed by Goldfish’s Average Day, which looks an awful like mine – not all that strange when you consider we do similar work for (what sounds like) similarly idiotic people.
My day –
0730-ish: Arrive at the office. Leave the dog in the car as an excuse to go outside in an hour.
0732: Make the first of what usually ends up being six cups of hot tea.
0735: Sit down at desk and open web browser. Doesn’t matter what else is on my plate for the day. Those emails won’t answer themselves and if I don’t check up on social media a baby will cry in Japan or something equally horrible.
0830: Retrieve dog from car and walk around the block. If I’m lucky she’ll poop. If I’m unlucky she won’t and will keep up a high-pitched whine for the next 90 minutes until we go out again.
0845: Return to desk. Glance over Work for the day. If it appears it will take longer than 30 minutes to complete, open the relevant files and draw a couple of lines.
0900: Back to the interwebs for inspiration because while I was “working” 827 new ideas flew into my brain.
1000: Walk the dog. Hopefully come away with the prize in the plastic bag if I didn’t on the earlier walk.
1015: Back to my desk and interwebs or Work, depending on which seems more pressing.
1130: Whoa! Lost track of time there! Doesn’t matter, though, because now it’s lunch time 🙂
1230: Back to work. Actually work on assigned project. Get 90% done and await the inevitable changes by micro-managing co-worker. They arrive right on cue at 1330 and I am ready, having refreshed myself by looking at clothes storage ideas on Pinterest.
1345-1400: Make changes micro-managing co-worker took 15 minutes to explain in 3.2 minutes and head outside for a smoke break.
1415: Look around my desk to see if any of the files contain anything interesting to work on. Everything has information pending and nothing is a rush job. Great! Back to the internet, where I write a blog post, work on my website or edit patterns. I feel woefully behind on all the personal stuff I really want to get done, what with all the interruptions throughout the day, none of which are as important as the person harassing me thinks they are.
1530: Time to walk the dog again! If the sun is shining the neighbors will be out and I might get lucky enough to glean some gossip or let someone pet my dog.
1545-1650: Make the last cup of hot tea for the day. Check in with The Boss to make sure he hasn’t thought up something else for me to do. Back at my desk it’s more time wasting after finishing up the work I was expected to finish today. If I get lucky there will be more work tomorrow. If I’m really lucky it will prove to be challenging.
1700: Quitting time! We don’t punch a time clock and I am often the first out the door.
I don’t consider myself exceptionally bright but when held up against the right people I am fucking brilliant and my talents are wasted.
AND I’ll be totally fucked if they’ve installed a keylogger on my computer 🙂
Srsly, I love my job. My co-workers are all wonderful people who just don’t give me much fodder for this here blog. No scandals. No one is hooking up with anyone else in the office. No boozers. No drug users. No sexist assholes. No bad language or inappropriate gossip.
Wait. WTF am I doing at such a boring place? Oh, right – the paycheck.
What does your average day look like?
I’ve mentioned before that I have two jobs – my everyday-at-the-office job and an occasional-part-time-whenever job. Both involve drafting and I’m not complaining even though it sounds like maybe I am. I love both jobs, really I do, and I’m grateful to have them.
But. Spring is here and I always get cranky this time of year, impatient to Get On With Summer Already. The constant switch from warm & sunny to chilly & breezy means I never have on the right clothes and going out without a hat and getting rained on just buggers up my whole day. Being inside without even a window to gaze out of while the weather is lovely makes my left eye twitch.
So, I’m not the most patient person right now and I’m being forced to hold my tongue and be a Team Player. Awana just gasped in horror. That’s right, this Lone Wolf is having to slow down and work with others.
I don’t have anything against the men I work with – they’re generally a great bunch of guys, but their brains operate on another wavelength and some of them seem to think I don’t know what I’m doing, or at least that’s the way it comes across to me.
There’s this job I’ve been working on. It’s not a big deal, a small subdivision. Several people have been in the drawings, changing this, changing that, shifting things here and there and now the client has decided on a final design and it’s time to get the drawings ready for submittal. Naturally nothing lines up with anything else and it’s my job to go in there and delete all the Bad Cad the slackers put in. Okie-dokie! It’s what I do.
This job should be mine entirely but The Boss is feeling pressured and not sure it will be finished for submittal on Thursday. Today, as far as I can tell, is Tuesday. He put the redlines on my desk yesterday afternoon. It’s not a lot of work. Maybe five hours working at a moderate pace, at most.
Yeah. Fun times. I know how to do my job. I’m very good at it, actually. I never blow a deadline. Ever. Now I’m stuck in second gear, waiting for someone else to do his part before I can do more of my part and the whole farce won’t be finished until after noon on Thursday because that’s how the other guy rolls.
I have nothing against my co-worker, but fuck, he’s slow and he can’t communicate well. He likes to be condescending and act surprised whenever I show I know what I’m doing. Grrrrr!
I resent The Boss thinking I need “help” with this one. I resent not being given full rein to design the storm and sewer lines – I may not have an engineering degree under my belt, but I do have a calculator and 25 fucking years experience. Shit flows downhill.* It’s not a complicated design. I resent my coworker interrupting my blogging every twenty minutes to “keep [me] in the loop” about changes The Boss is making as he gets more information from The City.
Sigh. It’s shaping up to be a long week and I haven’t even started on the drafting for The Other Boss.
* Unless you pump it uphill, but that’s not relevant here.