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Nov 16, 2022, 02:46 AM
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Member Since: Jul 2019
Location: Downtown Vibes, California
Posts: 15,701
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I asked David to bring me a few groceries because I am so low on things and have no money. He takes all of the small money out of the bank account so I can't access it. All of the "real" money is in his sister's control purposely to keep me from having access to it.
I was getting the cats' dinners ready, which also involves being exactly on time to test Sidney's glucose, feed her, and administer her insulin. It needs to be a very calm, quiet time with lots of soft talking, petting, and careful focus.
Suddenly, there's David beating on the door, yelling my name, beating, beating, beating, yelling. Of course the cats ran terrified, and hid. I opened the door for him, he walked in and dumped two bags on the table, huffing about where was I, didn't I hear the door - dumping the bags exactly where I needed to place Sidney to test her glucose.
I was furious. I've told him that if he comes here at that time to please, please let himself in (he has a key) very quietly. I have also told him, told him, and told him, that the doors here are hollow and thin, he need only knock very lightly.
And why didn't he use his key this evening? Because he won't set a bag on the (neatly swept) cement outside the door due to "germs" (he has severe OCD).
Oh. He forgot about the time. He forgot about the door. He forgot to mail the card I so carefully chose for our DIL's birthday. Oh, he forgets everything that doesn't benefit himself.
I knew what was coming and I said, "Leave. Now. Go." I barely slept last night. I have been fighting this depression and worrying and worrying. I am so damned lonely and alone in this town. My life has never been like this, I have always had people around me, and friends. Then he comes over here to torture me.
But he wouldn't leave because he wants "us" (me) to "turn down the volume." He means he wants me to shut my mouth, sit on my hands, and listen to him tell me all about himself. He throws fire in my face then blames me when I react. And always tells me, eventually, inevitably, before he finally does leave, that I am "mentally unstable."
A self-obsessed man who never could be a husband and father on his own, but is always a puppet for his snobby family and who is afraid to set an effing plastic grocery bag down, but I am mentally unstable because I am trying so, so hard to keep my precious cat alive. Because I am responsible. Because I had the guts to tell him his family made a fool of him. But the moment I said that so many, many years ago I knew he would always choose them over me and over his own children. So it was useless. And my daughter blames me for not getting out. But I tried so many times.
A miserable evening. But I did have a nice chat with a neighbor in the laundry room. She has such pretty long, black hair and the bluest eyes.
And guess what?!  The temperature is going to be in the mid-60's in the coming days! Beautiful. Maybe in the afternoons I can open the windows some and the cats can enjoy that. I'm thinking I'll drag the light box down and plug it in tomorrow, get some of the therapy light in here and see if I can lift my mood. As much as I dislike hot weather I believe my brain is accustomed to the bright, high sun here.
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