More Memories

While out and about today, I had some flashbacks to some situations with the monster that today, I find quite laughable.  At the time, it wasn't, but I got a silent chuckle over it today. 


One afternoon after he'd had a few (or several) beers, he asked me to drive to the office in Columbia that would have information on how to go about adopting an American Indian child.   (he's apparently part Cherokee and believes he has this great connection to them but that's a story for another day).  I was less than thrilled - not because I have a problem with adopting a child, but we were only a couple of months away from having our child together, and of course his having alcohol on his breath when he wanted to have this conversation with someone from the state really irked me.  (and before you can ask WHY I agreed to drive him there, it was to save the argument and aggravation that I would have faced had I refused to take him) 


We get to the office, go in, and he starts talking to the social worker.  I did not hide my irritation at being there, and there was no hiding my bulging pregnant belly.  I most likely rolled my eyes a lot, did the foot shake thing where your legs are crossed and you move your foot, and sighed a lot.  I was afraid to speak up and say I wasn't interested because I didn't want the argument when we left, so I kept my mouth shut.  Thankfully, after listening to the drunk for what seemed like forever, the man said that they wouldn't consider adopting a child to a family that was about to have the major change in their household of having a new baby.  Of course he had to throw in that he could tell that I didn't really seem to be interested, and I agreed that I felt that it would be too overwhelming for me to consider adoption when I would be a new mother very soon to my own child, and that this idea to adopt a child was just brought up to me that very day.


Needless to say, he wasn't pleased that he couldn't immediately adopt a child on a whim, and that they wouldn't even let him meet one of the children in question to play with them. 


Oh but it gets better - I also remembered today that he claimed we would be adopting the children of a man that he supposedly worked with in the fire department.  This story happened when we lived in Mount Zion, GA (the one in Carroll county, GA).  I'm a little foggy on the details, but he insisted that we would be getting these kids (I think they were either in their early teens, or pre-teens, IF they even existed).  I remember having an argument about this - I knew he was lying about this for one, but I wanted to make the point that I wasn't willing to do this, that this request was totally unreasonable.


Sometimes I wonder how I survived those years of insanity without totally losing my own sanity.  Fucking NUTS!

It's Been a Long Time.....

It's been over a year since I last wrote a blog here.  I have much less motivation to write in this one, as the more time has passed, the less things bother me.  I read an article today (well skimmed is more like it, I have trouble concentrating these days to read some things, and I figured skimming would bring back less hard memories than truly reading this) - here's a link to the article - 20 Diversion Tactics.....


I read through that, and damn.  I think most if not all of those applied to my ex-husband.  But especially #3 and #10.  Here's the text from #3 that absolutely applies to my ex:

If you think you’re going to have a thoughtful discussion with someone who is toxic, be prepared for epic mindfuckery rather than conversational mindfulness.

Malignant narcissists and sociopaths use word salad, circular conversations, ad hominem arguments, projection and gaslighting to disorient you and get you off track should you ever disagree with them or challenge them in any way. They do this in order to discredit, confuse and frustrate you, distract you from the main problem and make you feel guilty for being a human being with actual thoughts and feelings that might differ from their own. In their eyes, you are the problem if you happen to exist.

Spend even ten minutes arguing with a toxic narcissist and you’ll find yourself wondering how the argument even began at all. You simply disagreed with them about their absurd claim that the sky is red and now your entire childhood, family, friends, career and lifestyle choices have come under attack. That is because your disagreement picked at their false belief that they are omnipotent and omniscient, resulting in a narcissistic injury.

Remember: toxic people don’t argue with you, they essentially argue with themselves and you become privy to their long, draining monologues. They thrive off the drama and they live for it. Each and every time you attempt to provide a point that counters their ridiculous assertions, you feed them supply. Don’t feed the narcissists supply – rather, supply yourself with the confirmation that their abusive behavior is the problem, not you. Cut the interaction short as soon as you anticipate it escalating and use your energy on some decadent self-care instead.

There's an old saying - "never argue with an idiot, they'll drag  you down to their level and beat you with experience every time".  It took far too long for me to learn that, but I did finally learn not to argue with him.  It was just too frustrating to me because he could never ever admit when he was wrong, and honestly I got a shit-ton of pleasure out of pissing him off by refusing to argue.  He didn't know what to do with himself when I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of arguing back and getting upset.  Of course it was dangerous to not argue, because then he would tend to try to push me around physically, but after a while I think he was afraid of me because he knew I'd had enough, and I started fighting back with exactly what he was doing to me, so he was very careful not to touch me physically anymore.  He also learned that wasting his words on me no longer had the desired effect, as I had made the decision towards the end of the marriage that he no longer had that power over me.

#10 - Destructive Conditioning.  He never was proud of anything that I accomplished when we were married.  I never heard "good job", "I'm proud of you", no positive comments like that whatsoever.  I could have lived with the lack of positive comments, provided that there weren't negative comments in their stead.  I honestly believe he was insanely jealous of any successes that I had, yet nothing I did was ever good enough. 

Anyway, I just don't want to give this any more thought than I already have.  It's emotionally draining to revisit the past.  My present and future are so bright, I don't need to throw any shade on them from the past! 

Dammit the Flashbacks

So with people all around me getting pregnant and having babies lately, I think about the time when I was pregnant and when Steven was young.  What should have been a really joyous time in my life - wasn't.  I mean, in many ways it was, but in so many ways it wasn't.  It had nothing to do with Steven, or my desire to have a child - I most certainly wanted a child of my own!  And I thought I was in a loving relationship, with someone I could build a future with and have a couple of babies with, and live happily ever after.

We all know that the fairytale ended, hell it never really even began.  I saw more and more of the true colors of James when I was pregnant - it was the first time he put his hands on me.  He poked me with his finger so hard it left a black circular bruise on my chest when I was about 5 months pregnant.  He threw things, had tantrums frequently, and put his fist through our glass top coffee table.

Once, he came in drunk and was pissed at me about something, and when he was coming after me to hit me, he almost knocked Steven's bassinet over, with Steven in it!  I think Steven was about 3 weeks old. 

I had a little meltdown in the car when I got home tonight, thinking about how I didn't really get to enjoy my pregnancy with Steven, or my maternity leave once he was born.  I had no support from James when I was healing from childbirth and trying to adjust to being a new mom.  He never got up with Steven in the middle of the night (thankfully Steven slept through the night from almost the very beginning, or at least until 4am or so).  I had to do all the cooking, all the cleaning, and the child care in the 8 weeks I had off before returning to work.

And I'll never forget the first day I went back to work.  My dad was flying back home so I had to take him to the airport.  I was crying because he was leaving, and crying because I was leaving my new baby at home to go back to work.  I had nursed Steven when I got up, and he went back to sleep.  No sooner had I arrived at work (an hour late or so because of having to take my dad to the airport) than I received a phone call from James, screaming at me that I couldn't have fed Steven because he was screaming and carrying on and he wouldn't take the bottle.  I bought a different kind of bottle, went home, nursed Steven, and went back to work.  It was a frequent occurrence, that James would call me at work, screaming the accusations at me that I didn't feed Steven, because Steven would be hungry within 2 hours of me leaving.

The more I thought about all this, what I missed out on with that whole experience, and what I went through, what the kids went through, I just got really, really upset.  Our home was so unstable and James loved to scream and yell, that Steven became a very frightened, timid child because of it.  Thank heavens I got Steven away from that bastard.  Steven's still timid at times, but thankfully he's really come out of his shell in the last 8 years or so.  I don't even want to think about what he would be like if I hadn't left James.

Because I'm Worth It

When you've been in a relationship with an abusive person, they tend to beat you down, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally.  They control you, belittle you, make you afraid of anything and everything, and take away your self-worth.  For whatever reason, you give them the power to do those things, as they cannot do that without your relinquishing the power to them.

Once you get the nerve the leave the relationship, you'd think that you'd take back all that power and things would be all hunky dory and you'd feel good about yourself again.  WRONG!  At least, not in my world.  I've been slowly, ever so slowly, taking that power back and working to regain my self-worth. 

It's been a little over 8 years since my divorce, almost 6 years since I've even spoken to that demon, yet I still have those feelings of inadequacies, the low self-esteem, and low self-worth.  I never went to a therapist after the divorce, and I know I should have.  I've thought about going to one now, to hurry up and deal with all the feels and hurts and everything.  I just don't want to expose the hurts to someone in a professional setting.  They don't understand me, there's not really enough time in the day for me to spill it all out to let someone who doesn't know me try to help me.  Maybe I'll change my mind one day, maybe I won't.

I deal with it by the occasional blog here, and by talking about things with Brian and sometimes Steven.  I think Steven is still dealing with some of what he experienced, but he talks about it when something comes up.  I talk about it when things come up, but honestly I've been so happy the last several months that I haven't felt the need to discuss it.  I did have a talk with Brian about it on Christmas Eve, spilled some tears and worked through whatever aspect of the memory that surfaced.

Yet I sit here, shedding tears now as I write this.  I don't normally say I hate people but I hate that son-of-a-bitch. I hate that he did this to me. I hate what he took from me. I hate that I'm struggling to take back all that I lost emotionally. I hate the fucking scar on my face where he pushed me into a door after a fight, where I was trying to leave the house to get away from him because I was afraid he would kill me.  I hate that I get emotional when I think about it, talk about it, write about it.

Sometimes it just doesn't matter how good you have things.  The evil shit inside ruins it.  And that's why I let it out - in tears, in words.  And the photo above, if I were to speak to him today, that's one of the many things I'd say to him.  But he is not worth it.

Blessings

So recently, I'm taking Steven's brother CJ back to his apartment that he lives in with their father.  I hate that CJ is stuck having to live with that man, but perhaps one day those circumstances will change.

Steven is always glad that his father is not outside whenever we go to pick up or drop CJ off.  He just doesn't want to see him.  I can't say I blame him.  I get emotional sometimes when we talk about his father, because while part of me is very glad that James is no longer a part of Steven's life, it makes me sad for him too.  I mean - James doesn't even call him.  Ever.  Steven hasn't seen or even talked to James after all the ugliness that happened back in June 2009.

But honestly, to have that man out of his life is truly the best thing that ever happened for Steven.  Steven is old enough now to realize that he learned a lot of really bad things from James - the worst of which was how to treat me and people in general, and he has completely unlearned those behaviors, thanks to a couple of strong men in his life. 

My stepfather, Marion, was the first one to get ahold of Steven, along with my stepbrother Thomas, when Steven did some things shortly after the divorce.  I think they put a healthy fear and respect into him about how not to treat me.  And of course having Marion around helped in general with Steven - he never saw his Poppy raise his hand to me or his New-nee, and rarely heard him raise his voice.

Brian has been a God-send for Steven. Unfortunately, I had gotten to the point that I was so used to being talked down to or spoken to in a disrespectful manner, that I didn't even realize it when Steven would do it.  He made it quite clear to Steven a long time ago that Steven would not be treating me badly or smart mouthing me.  It took having Brian in his life to do more with him than I honestly think I could ever have done on my own.  I honestly don't know where Steven would be right now if it weren't for Brian.

Flashbacks

Flashbacks from hell today.  I'm not sure what brought them on.  The only one that I can remember at the moment has to do with his marijuana habit.  When we lived in the apartment in Carrollton, he had this one plate that he used to roll his joints, and he kept it up in the ceiling tiles in the bathroom.  I don't remember how I found out that's where he kept his stash, I think CJ told me, but I really don't remember.

I do remember that one time I took his stuff and hid it in my sock drawer, then went to work.  He called me at work and harassed me and threatened to come up there and make a huge scene to embarrass me in front of my coworkers, and I eventually gave in and told him where it was.

I absolutely hated the fact that he was a pot head.  I've always disliked the thought of pot smoking.  It's not something I ever did growing up, nor did I ever want to.  I'm sort of on the fence on the whole legalization issue.  If you're a pot smoker, that's your business, and as long as you don't bring that shit around me, I don't care that you smoke it.  I hated the fact that he cared more about his so-called "right" to smoke pot than he did about my feelings about it or the example he was setting for the children.

See, his justification for smoking pot was that he was part Cherokee Indian, and that Indians supposedly smoked pot when they couldn't get peyote.  I totally call bullshit on that. 

He used to try to hide that he'd been smoking pot from me, but I could tell before he'd finished speaking a sentence whenever he'd been smoking weed or drinking alcohol.  He never believed that I could tell, even though I busted him every time.  His manner of speaking would change when he was stoned or had been drinking, and when you know someone as well as I knew him (well, I knew him in some ways, obviously I didn't know him as well as I thought I did with all the shit I went through with him), you could just tell.  It ALWAYS gave him away.  He's an idiot, but when he smoked pot, he turned into an even bigger idiot.  You could hear it in his voice, how hard he would try to act and speak normally, but he just couldn't do it - his efforts further emphasized his stoned condition.

I remembered the hiding of the pot when I walked into the bathroom at work today.  I wasn't having a stressful day, no one had mentioned the idiot, or pot, but maybe it had something to do with the conversation regarding the weirdo at the Atlanta airport this morning that stripped naked and was jumping up and down and shouting about Jesus and going to Heaven.  I could almost imagine my idiot ex-husband doing something stupid like that.  Although he'd be more likely to have a pity party and be threatening to kill himself than to be praising Jesus and shouting about the joys of the thoughts of Heaven.

I know a part of it too, is that I'm very hormonal today.  I realized that early in the day.  PMS sucks.  Hormonal days are brutal - I'd rather have the physical symptoms than all the emotional ones.  PMS hormones wreak havoc with my emotions, my self-esteem, my self-worth, my security within my relationships - EVERYTHING!!!  Sometimes I don't even realize when it's my hormones that are taking over my emotions, but thankfully I've gotten better at recognizing it when it happens.

Anyways, here's to hoping the flashbacks and memories stop, at least until I'm done being hormonal.

Nightmares

So I got in bed last night and turned the TV to the "Lifetime Movie Network" because they show ghost-related programs on Saturday nights (and otherwise I won't EVER have on a channel that has Lifetime in the title).  There was a ghost program on when I went to bed, but I promptly fell asleep once I got under the covers and got comfortable.

Do any of you ever have dreams where what is going on around you, on TV or the radio (if you have those on while you sleep), infiltrates your dreams?  That occasionally happens to me.  A song will work it's way into my dream, or the sound of my alarm will be some sort of alarm in my dream.

Well this morning I had a horrific nightmare.  I don't know if it was something that had infiltrated my dreams from what was on LMN, or what it was.  This was one of those dreams where the people would change from one person to another, and the circumstances would change, and it was most bizarre.  It started out that I had 6 kids with James, ranging in ages from maybe 6 years old up to their early 20's, and he had lined them up in a field and given each one of them a pistol, even the youngest little girl who was maybe 6 or so.  The he drew a pistol from a bucket, and would point it at each child and say something.  He expected the child to respond and then draw their pistol and point it at him.  All refused to draw on him.

At some point I got a pistol and drew on him, at point blank range, but didn't want to shoot him in front of the children.  He went inside to shower and I had the kids gather up the pistols and told them to hide them under the porch while I dealt with their father.  I was so worried he'd find the guns that I repeatedly kept changing where we were going to hide them.  I caught him looking out the window at me, as I was searching for a good hiding place.  At this point James had changed into someone else, someone I didn't know, that looked like the actor Steve Carrell (yes, I know, that is very odd). 

I wanted to talk to him about how his actions terrified the kids, but I was afraid that by bringing it up, it would enrage him but I did it anyway.  As usual, he didn't care.  It was all about him and whatever he was upset about and whatever stupid point he was trying to make while handling the guns around the kids.

WTF was on TV while I was sleeping, to prompt this dream?!?!?! 

James never had a gun while we were married, I know he wanted to buy one the next year with our tax refund, and that's one of the many reasons I decided to leave him when I did.  But James would occasionally pull one of the big knives from the butcher block and hold it to his belly like he was going to stab himself, or would threaten to kill himself with a knife.  CJ fought him over a knife once when he was doing this.  I just told him to wait until I got the kids out of the house, I didn't want them to see the blood and gore if he wanted to off himself.

I never truly believed he would have hurt himself - he always enjoyed inflicting pain on others.  He did this scenario one time and insisted I call his shrink.  I called and got one of the other doctors in the practice who happened to be Steven's doctor.  She recommended I drive him over to the inpatient facility to be evaluated - the police were at our house during this conversation, trying to talk him down.  He agreed to go to the facility, but of course once we drove a few miles down the interstate, he changed his mind and promised he would calm down.  I took him home and he went to bed.  I was kind of surprised his doctor never called him to check on him and why he didn't show up at the facility, as it was made clear to me on the phone that they would be waiting for him. 

When I took Steven to his next appointment, the doctor never mentioned the call I'd made that night, and I was too afraid to bring it up to her.  Once I had filed the divorce papers several years later, I took Steven to his appointment with her and told her all about what our life had been like, the years of abuse, why I had fought James so hard on medicating Steven (my belief he was just wanting to drug him into submission for his convenience), everything.  She didn't seem too surprised, but never let on that she knew any of that was happening, and didn't seem to recall the after hours phone call that night. 

I guess I should stop going to bed with that channel on at night - honestly the only reason it was still on that channel after I fell asleep is because Brian wasn't here to change it.  Normally I go to sleep with it on, and when he comes to bed he will change it to one of the History channels, or something else.  He's at drill this weekend so I was stuck with whatever I fell asleep to.

I hate having nightmares, but especially ones that involve James.