It hurts but it / he always has and with it over it will eventually stop hurting , finally , right ?
your tough love
my best try
🅷🅰🆅🅴 🅰 🆆🅾🅽🅳🅴🆁🅵🆄🅻 🅳🅰🆈! 🅰🅽🅳 🆁🅴🅼🅴🅼🅱🅴🆁 🅷🅰🅿🅿🅸🅽🅴🆂🆂 🅸🆂 🅰 🅲🅷🅾🅸🅲🅴 – 🅸🅵 🅸 🅲🅰🅽 🅱🅴 🅷🅰🅿🅿🆈 🅸🅽 🆃🅷🅸🆂 🆂🅸🆃🆄🅰🆃🅸🅾🅽 🆈🅾🆄 🅲🅰🅽 🆃🅾🅾 🅽🅾 🅼🅰🆃🆃🅴🆁 🆆🅷🅰🆃 🅻🅸🅵🅴 🆃🅷🆁🅾🆆🆂 🅰🆃 🆈🅾🆄!!
꓄ꃅꍟ ꉓꀎ꓄ꍟꈤꍟꌗꌗ ꀤꌗ ꍏ꒒ꂵꂦꌗ꓄ ꀎꈤꌃꍟꍏꋪꍏꌃ꒒ꍟ!
What would you do if you found out the man you were falling in love with was cheating on you?
Now say you’ve got ample proof and he goes and gets a restraining order AND calls a bogus DV call against you when he was the one roughing you up?
When that fails to get him what he wants what happens when he commits you to the funny farm against your will and has been tediously setting up the scene for your imminent “need” of a seventy-two hour hold?
Now what would you do if he’d already aligned himself with the people already doing their own little twisting of the truth to take from you the only thing important in your life – your children – to make a point and control you?
Well bravo I already sound paranoid and a bit nutty don’t I? You wouldn’t believe me for a minute, would you? Aww, don’t worry neither would I.
But believe it or not I thought I was schizophrenic and bipolar like the good kind doctors who medicated me so heavily I couldn’t function enough to stay awake and see my kids for a few hours straight told me I was, diagnosed me even as such, and committed me to a psych ward for 30 days because … well I don’t know because I was fine at the hospital and completely lucid upon arrival at the good ol’ funny farm… I’d gotten high after my first sober experience to crazy town and my dad happened to come by my place when the warden was off on an impromptu trip to “visit family” <or maybe his other family at this point I wouldn’t put it past him> in another state and he didn’t like how I was acting at the restaurant so he took me to the hospital. I don’t blame him I was on uppers from the street and downers from the drug dealer with the phd. so I was not my best of selves. And he’d had Sir Gas-Lighter extraordinaire in his ear for a few months at that point after bringing me back home following the jail stintS he had put me in for making sure that the no contact order would carry over for a while and give him that extra bit of control over me in “our” home when he brought me back all the while making sure to just barely fill in my one remaining ally that was my father so that he knew just enough to not worry too much and to feel dude was taking amazing care and time and attention in my health and well being.
LET ME BE CLEAR: WOMEN CAN AND DO ABUSE MEN IN MANY INSTANCES A MAN SHOULD CALL THE POLICE IF HE IS BEING ABUSED AND VERY FEW MEN DO BECAUSE IT ISN’T THE MANLIEST THING TO DO BUT WOMEN CAN BE VISCOUS AND HURTFUL PHYSICALLY TO A MAN ESPECIALLY WHEN ENRAGED WITH A BIT OF INTOXICATION TO BOLSTER THEIR RIGHTEOUSNESS. PLUS IF A MAN DEFENDS HIMSELF AGAINST A PHYSICALLY VIOLENT WOMAN HE IS LIKELY TO WIND UP GOING TO JAIL SHOULD THE POLICE BE CALLED SO CALLING THE POLICE AND SHUTTING THAT SHIT DOWN WITHOUT WINDING UP BEHIND BARS IS HIS BEST BET FOR SELF PRESERVATION AND SOMETIMES GENUINELY NEEDED FOR HIS SAFETY.
HOWEVER IN THIS CASE:
My guy had repeatedly choked me up against the wall when he was infuriated with me with no provocation of any physical nature on my part (yes I was likely running my mouth on one or two of these occasions but just because I’m a better debater than he is *which he recently admitted as to part of his reasoning for violence being to shut me up* but on one I vividly remember it was because he thought I was going through his stuff and I not only wasn’t I but turns out he had a females number in his pocket and so his ass was on high alert and he woke up tripping because I was sitting on the floor) and the day he called the police on me he had had a hotel receipt in his pocket and was walking around the apartment with it hanging out all obvious and such and when I snatched it as I walked by to take a look he didn’t grab it back (I’m 5’nada and 110lbs soaking wet so that would have been the easy choice for a man who out weighs and is taller than me) he tackled me and wrestled me for it (I’m a genius who when someone is trying to take something from me even if I don’t care if they have it *usually he does this with my phone which I couldn’t care less what he sees cause there is nothing to see besides me snooping his shit which I am pretty open about* I fight to keep it as though it is the last golden ticket and I’m a chocolate fiend. I don’t now but I did for a long while. Now I just let him have whatever he’s grabbing for, I am not a fan of physical pain (or emotional pain for that matter <derp de derp yes some people are and I used to be kind of>) and after the hellacious last few years I’ve had I abhor fear and being grossed out. So that wrestling match ended with me very very tired and him triumphant although I’d seen the damn receipt without proof he would deny it all the way to the .. . next motel? So we decided to go to our frequent hot spot the casino where he would disappear for hours at a time and act like he’d been gambling in the same spot that I had been past while he (I now have pieced together) frequented hookers either from the casino or down the road at the bus station where they also meander selling a good time with a positive finale. On this specific day (sometime ago in or around February 2017) we didn’t quite make it to the casino. He was exerting his dominance and I was fighting back and at one point I flicked him in the side of the head and he strong armed me and I bopped him on the nose (and yes flick and bop are exactly as they sound minor annoyances but not meant to cause pain or injury) so he pulled the car over for the second time and said he was calling the police. I’m guessing now that he was bluffing but I’d had enough of his dominance and I believed he was calling at the time so I jumped in the drivers seat *to make his point and fake the call he had to not be sitting right next to me* and backed up and flipped a u-turn and went home. Turns out the police did end up getting called because it started to snow when I drove away and he was infuriated with my taking his car so since the police would not do a darn thing about the car because I had been allowed to drive it for the year previous and therefore had not stolen anything he proceeded to press domestic violence charges against me and had his handy little restraining order prior to the date in question just waiting to use it in all it’s defaming glory because I was likely getting my kids back if he didn’t throw a wrench in the game and he didn’t want to have my kids full time living with us as that would not be conducive to his lifestyle and the one in which he wanted me as his toy for when he was bored.
It gets worst for me after that that day as I had nowhere to go and was a scared little mouse in a tiny little apartment with one way in and out and no idea what to do because at that point I checked and saw he HAD called 911 after I left and there they were pounding on the door… Never do this but a trick I learned on the mean streets of Tacompton is that if you put a large knife behind the door and wedged into the doorjamb you will create an unlockable lock on your door. I had done just that that day in hopes of what I do not know because it was not going to do me any good to be seeming to barricade myself and be dodging the officers direct orders to open up…. So with headphones not playing a darn bit of music but plugged in and pretending to be as my excuse for being late to hearing the door I removed said knife.
Now simultaneously the officers unlocked the door yet again (forgot to mention I had moronically relocked it after their first unlocking as though I merely must have forgotten to lock it and happened to notice right then… fear does not create logical thinking for me) and expecting resistance again pushed in. Butcher knife (go big or go home right?!) in hand jumping backward thus swinging my arm up and coming down to landing in a defensive attack kind of squat to balance myself did not do me any favors. I did redeem myself as wholly as I could by – before they could react and pull their weapons – chucking the knife to the side and away clearly in no way moving it toward them and then diving on the ground and putting my hands behind my back. The front and center policeman never did pull his weapon and he was a hefty piece of meat which is why I assumed the “arrest me!” position so quickly, his tackle would have resulted in broken bones I do believe. The taller and leaner officer behind him did eventually draw his gun and even aimed it where I had been because that was how slow he’d been to get it out. They carried me down the stairs kicking and screaming like a toddler because that is exactly what I felt like especially with cool guy shaking his head and making awful cruel comments as we passed him and our apartment manager (I had both sets of keys…). Dude was evilly smug and proud of himself and he’d baited me with that receipt and set me up right before my court date where I had all my ducks in a row and my ex didn’t and had again popped for drugs in his testing while she was in his “temporary custody” after he’d abducted my kids and set me up but that is for another day or at least another post since I’m in a sharing mood today.
Throughout this whole ordeal in which we have just begun I trusted Alex (dude, warden, my guy) with my life because he’d saved me from being on the streets any longer than the few weeks I’d been homeless and a wreck after Grayson (the ex and youngest daughter’s father) took my kids and didn’t return them after dinner after only just starting to come around following a hiatus from parenthood to start his new family of about 7 to 15 months sporadic visits amongst.
Yeah I’ll keep on a rambling so I will be quiet on any more ‘splaining to do for now.
🅸 🅳🅸🅳 🅷🅾🆆🅴🆅🅴🆁 🅵🅾🆁🅶🅴🆃 🆃🅷🅰🆃 🆃🅷🅸🆂 🅱🅴🅶🅰🅽 🅸🅽 🆁🅴🅵🅴🆁🅴🅽🅲🅴 🆃🅾 🆆🅷🅰🆃 🅸’🅼 🆂🆃🅸🅻🅻 🅳🅴🅰🅻🅸🅽🅶 🆆🅸🆃🅷 🅰🅽🅳 🆃🅷🅾🆄🅶🅷🆃 🆆🅰🆂 🅰🆂 🆁🅴🅰🅻 🅰🆂 🆃🅷🅴 🅻🅸🅺🅴🆂 🅾🅵 🆃🅷🅴 🅻🅾🅲🅷 🅽🅴🆂🆂 🅼🅾🅽🆂🆃🅴🆁 🅰🅽🅳 🅱🅸🅶🅵🅾🅾🆃 : 🅰 🆂🅴🆁🅸🅰🅻 🅲🅷🅴🅰🆃🅴🆁, 🅰🅽 🅰🅳🅳🅸🅲🆃 🆃🅾 🅰🅳🅳🅸🅲🆃🅸🅾🅽, 🅰 🆂🅾🅲🅸🅾🅿🅰🆃🅷 🆆🅷🅾 🅸🆂 **🅽🅴🆆🆂 🅵🅻🅰🆂🅷** 🅿🆄🆉🆉🅻🅴 🅿🅸🅴🅲🅴🆂 🅷🅰🆅🅴 🅲🅾🅼🅴 🅱🅰🅲🅺 🆃🅾🅶🅴🆃🅷🅴🆁 🅵🆁🅾🅼 🆆🅷🅰🆃 🅸 🆁🅴🅰🅻🅸🆉🅴🅳 🅸🅽 🆃🅷🅴 🅱🅴🅶🅸🅽🅽🅸🅽🅶 🅱🅴🅵🅾🆁🅴 🅸 “🆆🅴🅽🆃 🅲🆁🅰🆉🆈” 🅴🆇🅰🅲🆃🅸🅽🅶 🅷🅸🆂 🆅🅴🅽🅶🅴🅰🅽🅲🅴 🅵🅾🆁 🅷🅸🆂 🅴🆇-🆆🅸🅵🅴’🆂 🅼🅸🆂🆃🆁🅴🅰🆃🅼🅴🅽🆃 🅰🅽🅳 🅷🆄🅼🅸🅻🅸🅰🆃🅸🅾🅽 🅷🅴 🆂🆄🅵🅵🅴🆁🅴🅳 🅱🆈 🅷🅴🆁 🅸🅽🅳🅸🅵🅵🅴🆁🅴🅽🅲🅴 🆃🅾🆆🅰🆁🅳 🅷🅸🅼 🅾🅽 🅼🅴 🅰🅽🅳 🅴🆅🅴🅽 🆆🆁🅾🆃🅴 🅰🅱🅾🆄🆃 🅷🅾🆆 🅷🅴’🅳 🅳🅾 🅸🆃 🆃🅾 🅷🅴🆁 🅰🅽🅳 🅸🅽🆂🆃🅴🅰🅳 🅸’🅼 🅿🅰🆈🅸🅽🅶 🅵🅾🆁 🅷🅴🆁 <🅰🆂 🅰🆃🆃🆁🅸🅱🆄🆃🅴🅳 🅱🆈 🅷🅸🆂 🆂🅸🅲🅺 🅰🅽🅳 🆃🆆🅸🆂🆃🅴🅳 🅴🅽🆃🅸🆃🅻🅴🅳 🅼🅸🅽🅳> 🆂🅸🅽🆂 🅰🅽🅳 🅰 🅲🅷🅰🅼🅴🅻🅴🅾🅽 🆆🅷🅾 🆃🅾 🅴🆅🅴🆁🆈🅾🅽🅴 🅴🅻🆂🅴 (🅴🆅🅴🅽 🅷🅸🆂 🅴🆇-🆆🅸🅵🅴 🅽🅾🆆 🆃🅷🅰🆃 🅸’🅼 🅷🅸🆂 🅿🆄🅽🅲🅷🅸🅽🅶 🅱🅰🅶) 🅸🆂 🅶🅸🆅🅸🅽🅶, 🅺🅸🅽🅳, 🅷🅴🅻🅿🅵🆄🅻, 🅿🅰🆁🆃 🅾🅵 🅰🅽🅳 🅸🆂 🆂🆄🆁🅴 🅰🆂 🅷🅴🅲🅺 🆃🅾 🅽🅾🆃 🅲🅾🅼🅿🅻🅰🅸🅽 🆃🅾🅾 🅼🆄🅲🅷 🅰🅱🅾🆄🆃 🅼🅴 🅱🆄🆃 🅹🆄🆂🆃 🅴🅽🅾🆄🅶🅷 🆃🅷🅰🆃 🆆🅷🅴🅽 🅸’🅼 🅱🆁🅾🆄🅶🅷🆃 🆄🅿 🆃🅷🅴🆁🅴 🅸🆂 🆃🅷🅰🆃 🅺🅽🅾🆆🅸🅽🅶 🆂🅰🅳 🅷🅴🅰🅳 🅽🅾🅳 🅱🆈 🅷🅸🆂 🅼🅰🅻🅴 🅰🅰 🅱🆁🅴🆃🅷🆁🅴🅽 🅰🅽🅳 🅴🆅🅴🅽 🆃🅷🅴 🅵🅴🅼🅰🅻🅴🆂 🅿🆁🅾🅱🅰🅱🅻🆈 🅽🅾🆆 – 🅰🅽🅳 🆃🅷🅰🆃 🅸🆂 🅸🅵 🅷🅴 🅴🆅🅴🅽 🅲🅻🅰🅸🅼🆂 🆃🅾 🅷🅰🆅🅴 🅰 🅶🅸🆁🅻🅵🆁🅸🅴🅽🅳 🅾🆁 🆁🅾🅾🅼🅼🅰🆃🅴 🅾🆁 🅺🅽🅾🆆🅸🅽🅶 🅼🅴 🅰🆃 🅰🅻🅻 🅰🆃 🆃🅷🅰🆃 🅿🅾🅸🅽🆃 🅰🅽🅳 🆃🅸🅼🅴. 🆆🅷🅴🅽 🅸 🆆🅰🆂 🅼🅴🅳🅸🅲🅰🆃🅴🅳 🅷🅴 🆃🆁🅰🅸🅿🆂🅴🅳 🅼🅴 🅰🆁🅾🆄🅽🅳 🅷🅸🆂 🅻🅸🆃🆃🅻🅴 🆃🆁🅾🅿🅷🆈/🅰🅲🅲🅾🅼🅿🅻🅸🆂🅷🅼🅴🅽🆃 🅰🅽🅳 🅸 🅲🅾🆄🅻🅳🅽’🆃 🆃🅴🅻🅻 🆈🅾🆄 🆆🅷🅰🆃 🆂🆃🅾🆁🅸🅴🆂 🅿🅴🅾🅿🅻🅴 🆃🅷🅸🅽🅺 🅾🅵 🅼🅴 🅱🅴🅲🅰🆄🆂🅴 🅱🅴🆃🆆🅴🅴🅽 🅷🅸🅼 🅰🅽🅳 🅼🆈 🅴🆇 🆃🅷🅴🆁🅴 🅸🆂 🅰 🅽🅾🆅🅴🅻 🅾🆄🆃 🆃🅷🅴🆁🅴 🅾🅵 🆂🆃🅾🆁🅸🅴🆂 🅸 🅷🅰🆅🅴 🆈🅴🆃 🆃🅾 🅷🅴🅰🆁 🆃🅷🅴 🅼🅰🅹🅾🆁🅸🆃🆈 🅾🅵 🅱🆄🆃 🅽🅾🅽🅴 🅾🅵 🆆🅷🅸🅲🅷 🅷🅾🅻🅳 🅰 🅻🅸🅲🅺 🅾🅵 🆃🆁🆄🆃🅷 🅱🅴🅲🅰🆄🆂🅴 🆃🅷🅴🆈 🅳🅾🅽’🆃 🅷🅰🆅🅴 🅰🅽🆈 🅸🅳🅴🅰 🆆🅷🅰🆃 🅸’🆅🅴 🅱🅴🅴🅽 🆄🅿 🆃🅾. 🅳🆄🅳🅴 🅴🅽🅳🅴🅳 🆄🅿 🅲🅷🅴🅰🆃🅸🅽🅶 🅾🅽 🅼🅴 🅰🅽🅳 🆆🅷🅸🅻🅴 🅼🅴🅳🅸🅲🅰🆃🅴🅳 🅷🅴🅰🆅🅸🅻🆈 🅰🅽🅳 🆁🅰🆁🅴🅻🆈 🅶🅴🆃🆃🅸🅽🅶 🅾🆄🆃 🅾🅵 🅱🅴🅳 🆃🅾 🅿🅴🅴 🅸 🅼🅰🅽🅰🅶🅴🅳 🆃🅾 🅵🅸🅽🅳 🅾🆄🆃 🅷🅴 🆆🅰🆂 🅳🅾🅸🅽🅶 🆂🅾 🅰🅽🅳 🅼🆈 🅶🆄🆃 🅵🅴🅴🅻🅸🅽🅶 🅵🅾🆁🅲🅴🅳 🅼🅴 🆃🅾 🅰🅲🆃🆄🅰🅻🅻🆈 🅿🆄🅻🅻 🅼🆈🆂🅴🅻🅵 🅾🆄🆃 🅾🅵 🆃🅷🅴 🅶🆁🅾🅶🅶🆈 🅻🅰 🅻🅰 🅻🅰🅽🅳 🅾🅵 🅽🆄🅼🅱🅽🅴🆂🆂 🅸’🅳 🅱🅴🅲🅾🅼🅴 🅰🅲🅲🆄🆂🆃🅾🅼🅴🅳 🆃🅾. 🅰🅽🅳 🆃🅷🅴🅽 🅸 🆂🆃🅾🅿🅿🅴🅳 🆃🅷🅾🆂🅴 🅳🅰🅼🅽🅴🅳 🅼🅴🅳🆂 🅱🅴🅲🅰🆄🆂🅴 🅴🆅🅴🆁🆈🆃🅷🅸🅽🅶 🅲🅰🅼🅴 🅵🅻🅾🅾🅳🅸🅽🅶 🅱🅰🅲🅺 – 🅼🆈 🅼🅴🅼🅾🆁🅸🅴🆂, 🆁🅴🅰🅻🅸🆃🆈, 🅻🅸🅵🅴 🅾🆄🆃🆂🅸🅳🅴 🆃🅷🅴 🅽🆄🅼🅱🅽🅴🆂🆂 🆆🅰🆂 🆂🅲🅰🆁🆈 🅰🅽🅳 🆃🅾🅾 🅱🆁🅸🅶🅷🆃 🅰🅽🅳 🆃🅾🅾 🅼🆄🅲🅷 🅱🆄🆃 🅸🆃 🆆🅰🆂 🆁🅴🅰🅻 🅰🅽🅳 🅸 🅵🅴🅻🆃 🅸🆃 …🅰 🅱🅸🆃 🆃🅾🅾 🅸🅽🆃🅴🅽🆂🅴🅻🆈 🆃🅾 🆃🅴🅻🅻 🆃🅷🅴 🆃🆁🆄🆃🅷 🆂🅾 🅸 🅷🅾🅿🅿🅴🅳 🅱🅰🅲🅺 🅾🅽 🆃🅷🅴 🆂🅴🅻🅵 🅼🅴🅳🅸🅲🅰🆃🅸🅽🅶 🆃🆁🅰🅸🅽 🅰🅽🅳 🆃🅷🅰🆃 🅸🆂 🆆🅷🅴🅽 🅸 🆂🆃🅰🆁🆃🅴🅳 🆃🅷🅸🆂 🅱🅻🅾🅶 🆂🅾 🆈🅾🆄 🅲🅰🅽 🆂🅴🅴 🅿🆁🅴🆅🅸🅾🆄🆂 🅿🅾🆂🆃🆂 🅾🅽 🅼🆈 🅰🆃🆃🅴🅼🅿🆃🆂 🅰🆃 🆀🆄🅸🆃🆃🅸🅽🅶 🆂🅾🅼🅴🆃🅷🅸🅽🅶 🅸 🅷🅰🅳 🅽🅾 🅳🅴🆂🅸🆁🅴 🆃🅾 🆀🆄🅸🆃 🅰🅽🅳 🅳🅸🅳🅽’🆃 🆄🆂🅴 🆁🅴🅶🆄🅻🅰🆁🅻🆈 🅰🅽🅳 🆆🅰🆂🅽’🆃 🅰🅵🅵🅴🅲🆃🅸🅽🅶 🅼🆈 🅻🅸🅵🅴 🅱🅴🆂🅸🅳🅴🆂 🆃🅷🅴 🅲🆁🅰🅿 🆃🅷🅰🆃 🅸 🅷🅰🅳 🆃🅾 🅿🆁🅾🆅🅸🅳🅴 🅵🆁🅾🅼 🆃🅷🅴 🆂🅷🅸🆃🆂🅷🅾🆆 🅾🅵 🅱🅴🅵🅾🆁🅴. 🅸’🅼 🅶🅾🅸🅽🅶 🅸🅽 🅲🅸🆁🅲🅻🅴🆂 🅰🅽🅳 🆃🅷🅰🆃 🅸🆂 🅾🅺🅰🆈 🆃🅾🅳🅰🆈 🅱🅴🅲🅰🆄🆂🅴 🅸 🅰🅼 🅸🅽 🅰 🅲🅸🆁🅲🆄🅸🆃🅾🆄🆂 🆃🆈🅿🅴 🅾🅵 🅼🅾🅾🅳.
𝕀 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕞 𝕥𝕠 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕞𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕀 𝕕𝕠 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 : 𝕀 𝕒𝕞 𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕪. 𝕀𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕥 𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕦𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕙𝕒𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕤𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕀 𝕒𝕞 𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕃𝕪 𝕞𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕟𝕠 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕞𝕖 𝕒𝕤 𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕕 𝕒𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕕𝕠 𝕨𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕞𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕀 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕪 𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕪. ℍ𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕚𝕤 𝕒 𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕚𝕔𝕖 𝕤𝕠 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕖𝕝𝕤𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕤𝕖?
Until just recently I hadn’t heard that saying to “feel your feels [feelings]” and I overheard my daughter, Riley, telling her boyfriend that she understood that that was what he was doing and my amazing 12 year old empowered her counterpart to do so however he needed and she would be there for him. My girl is showing empathy! There are a lot of other emotions and hormonal scatterbrain going on in her preteen years so for her to be learning and embracing the complexities of empathy is impressive. She was unaware of the word or action and we had a great discussion on it and her usage and my pride in her last night.
I would say I “struggle” with empathy but that is a lie I know how to be empathetic I would just rather cut the cord of bullshit and get down to the brass tact of the issue. I teach my kids empathy, I know it is important in being a good person to be empathetic, I often am empathetic to an extent but, what is the saying, those who can’t do, teach? Joking, joking. I just have no appetite for listening to someone knowingly lie to themselves to feel better in a situation where they were wrong and know it but are expecting support for their delusions. I’ll admit, some people are further down the rabbit hole of deluding themselves and may not realize when they are in the wrong, those who are the perpetual victim.
But, this is not about them, and that is the heart of the problem with my no nonsense approach to analyzing and/or “helping” in situations (when I’m asked to, I no longer just throw my two cents around except sometimes with coworkers), I’m not sensitive to the other person’s self-denial. I also don’t like to be bullshitted. I can and do bullshit my way around some situations in life that I don’t feel like dealing with but that doesn’t bring about resolution it just placates my ego. It is likely that more often than not I am making a true ass out of myself in talking circuitously instead of taking responsibility and people are just unwilling to call me out on it. So that is what I do for the betterment of everyone.
I would love (and hate in the moment as has been the case) if people would call me on my bullshit. One of my favorite people in the world is my dad and good, bad, or indifferent he has taught me the art of bullshitting; he is also the person I can trust to not play into my self-denial and will call me on the carpet every time. That I love! That I need! So that is also what I do, not always, I know when someone is not ready for self-actualization and don’t push it but I try to make it understood that we can be honest and have a real discussion, no judgement.
Empathy is about the other person, I know, and I am not being selfless as is needed to hone this interpersonal skill but I also know (ego! alert) I am making a positive difference. Yeah I can’t bullshit myself, my dad believes I am a sociopath and I tend to agree I have some tendencies leaning that direction, many people prefer to stay deluded and just be agreed with which is their right so long as they don’t ask my advice.
My aunt Demi is a beautiful, kindhearted train wreck. When we first got back into contact regularly a few months back she learned quickly and brutally that I wouldn’t cosign her bullshit. She still tries it with me and come to find out she doesn’t always see her fault (so she says) and I help her see, so see I’m helping. I’m cynical because I know that I know when I’m wrong even if I will steadfastly play the role of the victim. I do also forget that other people’s minds don’t work the same as mine, as mine doesn’t work the same as other people’s all the time.
My boyfriend has a buddy that will cosign ALL his bullshit and then write another check and it is sickening to witness. When he asked if it was okay that he was planning to ghost me after three years ol’ boy said with all he had done for me over that time it was perfectly understandable and he was the good person in the situation and always had been. Alex talks to him a lot less after I pointed it out because that is not a friend, that is an enabler.
I stayed in self-denial about my fault in losing my girls and still sometimes forget to remember my part. My dad kept me honest throughout though and let me hide in my bullshit only after I admitted my responsibility. That is love and true friendship to me.
So this is a bit of a character defect, or is it? I think it’s on the fence because my intentions are good in wanting to help someone get to the crutch of the issue but a bit selfish in not allowing them to decide when to process their own bullshit. Really if they ask I think it is my right to give my honest opinion but is it right?
I’ve only had a few truly devastating and traumatic situations in my life so I only know from those that I prefer tough love and brutal honesty to commiseration. I also don’t process all emotions. Until today I could not wrap my brain around anger, it just seemed nonsensical and counterproductive to a positive outcome but after reading the reasoning for a person’s experience of anger earlier I gained a bit of understanding as to why people get angry.
Always learning. I realize empathy can be used for sharing all different feelings and emotions through another person’s experience with them. I am just ranting about the enabling kind with a specific kind of people that I have run into a lot throughout life so it seems common and hopefully is relatable. It could also speak to the company I’ve always kept!
My character defects: bullshitting, lying, avoidance, selfishness, pride, ego, manipulation, self-aggrandizing, impatience,
My addict behaviors (also the top 5 expected): lying, manipulation, criminality, blame shifting, and verbal abuse.
I’m a pretty honest person. Hot damn! that is a lie. Definitely not where my addiction is concerned. Every time I use I have to make and take texts or phone calls that I will need to sanitize from my phone (making me a hypocrite because I expect my boyfriend not to do just that) after the deal is completed. My whereabouts for the lost time spent scoring are also a lie or usually a well-timed execution so that no one noticed my absence and thus I omit. Then every time I actually consume the drug, if I don’t wait until I am home alone, I make up some excuse or another for going to the store so I can use in my car down the block. Back when I shot up I could just go into the restroom of anywhere and do my thing. Smoking is a pain because, while my boyfriend disagrees, I believe meth has a smell and heroin for sure did, it creates smoke and pipes or sheets of foil are not easy to quickly hide inconspicuously. Every time I’ve attempted to hide either I have been caught red-handed. The boyfriend finding my rigs (needles) after going through my purse was the only way I got caught on that front. I am NOT promoting the use of needles – I wish I NEVER had and NEVER will again (I may relapse but am NOT going back to that insane method of drug use – I should have died so many times) and am beyond lucky to be alive after having done so. I am a liar, not to you, I’m honest with you and that is one of the difficult things about blogging my sobriety including my fuck ups because even though I don’t know you it is humiliating. I don’t actively lie in my sobriety I just omit certain things that I wouldn’t appreciate the boyfriend doing to me that I am doing (yeah I see the hypocrisy and the asshole I am) like messaging with a sober friend (who is male and therein lies the problem). See I know I am not doing anything wrong but I’m not doing something right. I just appreciate the support and attention! yeah. Alex and I have an agreement that we don’t participate in any form of relationship (friendship included) with members of the opposite sex because there is no good reason why we would need validation or attention from someone that is not the two of us. Its flawed thinking but it is a respect thing that we agree on. Thankfully he doesn’t do social media and I’m a super sleuth of all things cell phone so I am unworried, he got caught when he tried to step outside the terms and has been on good behavior since. Oh yeah we were talking about ME the liar. Other than that facebook contact and the occasional check-in by old friends on facebook I don’t hide anything else. Oh but back to being high I also have to pretend to be sober, rarely do I believe I fool Alex and probably Joke’s on me! thinking I’m fooling anybody else. Lying is painful though it rots a pit in your gut and the only way to cure that is through the agony of admitting the truth! I’ve done so though. After I got sober for my decent length of sobriety before the October relapse I admitted all my wrongs and lies to Alex. This guy is awesome-sauce staying with me after I admitted to pawning all his valuable jewelry among a bevy of other trespasses and lies. What a freaking guy!
Before moving onto my manipulation I thought I’d address the big purple elephant bouncing in the corner: I realize that by my not being honest in my relationship I am creating the mistrust I hate. If I can keep him in the dark then of course he’s probably got some shadow over me and even if that is not the case that is what I do believe. I feel kind of indifferent about it because he did who-knows-what with that female I caught him talking inappropriately to. I’m still so hurt by that that I’ll blame shift all day long! But yeah I see the cycle and don’t like that I am perpetuating it. Not proud of any of my pettiness.
I can bullshit my way through most situations high or sober, I am a bullshitter – it is a family trait passed down on my father’s side and it hasn’t skipped a generation or child in our family yet! Which yes I understand entails lying but it is smooth wordplay and if done right everyone walks away feeling like a winner. My bullshitting ways took a drug addled left turn to become manipulation right before my very eyes. I didn’t even realize I was doing it but I usually get what I want so the change wasn’t apparent. And then I did something I am super ashamed of but can never make unhappen – I threatened to commit suicide if Alex didn’t stay home from work with me. Ugh. Blah. Spit. Then I started seeing how I was playing on many people’s emotions and kindness to keep getting what I wanted when I wanted it. Alex got the worst of it. I was the master of guilt and could make a person feel bad for doing something good. My “friends” (other addicts) tried and failed to manipulate me while I was pulling their strings. And I felt what I was doing was okay! Now I get that it is abusive to manipulate someone and sometimes have to work hard not to – I did it for more than two weeks so it because a habit. The lawyer I used that screwed me over told me that I should be Trump’s spokeswoman because I could give Sarah Sanders (his actual spokeswomen) a run for her money in spinning truths. I base every exaggeration, lie, or spun truth on the truth because outright lying is too hard to keep straight. I am proud of my powers of persuasion!
A criminal? Who me? Never! and she lies again (just a joke I’m honest with you!). So I’m over thirty and have a nearly clean record. I’d gotten a possession of paraphernalia (I spelled that letter-twister right the first time!) for marijuana charge right after I turned 18 and a MIP Minor in Possession charge at 19 (alcohol). What a rebel I was! Yeah, not really but I did get away with a lot more I could have been in trouble for. Then, however, I got homeless. In order to get drugs, we would boost stuff that Mick (my dealer) wanted to pay for them so that got me started shoplifting. I really liked shoplifting; it made a lot more sense to me to just take what I wanted rather than pay for it. I liked it so much so that when I finally had money and started buying things again I had a hard time. I still could steal a lot of what I buy but I don’t have that meth-confidence that gave me the gumption to walk out the door without paying. I mostly stole gifts for my girls and jewelry – they have since taken the jewelry completely out of the Fred Meyer I would shoplift the fashion jewelry from. I’d forgotten about how I got started stealing until I remembered, mere moments ago, what I shared with you. Around the same time as the boosting for drugs campaign while I was homeless I stepped up my unlawful game and stepped into the world of prostitution. For about two weeks I sold myself through sex or a blow job more often than not. It is a surreal endeavor that I do not recall much of. I had a couple regulars, well men who wanted to be my regulars if I’d continued, who paid me very well. My excuse was that I had never enjoyed sex (true story save for 2 occasions) and had been having it for free for years so why not get paid for my displeasure. I carried bags and a backpack so I looked like some high school kid strolling down the street at ungodly hours. I don’t think the police were trying to stop the prostitution as it was an area known for it and I didn’t get stopped once. I found it weird, also, that I just wore regular clothes (and I don’t dress at all slutty quite the opposite) and had a three car back up at one point. Not proud, not ashamed, leaving my unsettling choices there in the past where they belong.
I wasn’t a big blame shifter but I did do my fair share during the custody cases. Trust you me it was not that I was on drugs and not willing to go to rehab that it all blew up in my face nope nosiree, it actually wasn’t they didn’t base it off of that but it definitely wouldn’t have hurt. The courts went off of a few stories Grayson made up to scare my family into being on his side but weren’t in any way true and the other lies he told throughout the court proceedings. I didn’t help my case by continuing to use though and know I allowed for his lies to be seen as possible with my action or inaction or both. I’ve accepted most everything and do take responsibility for my use but there are some things I’ll never agree with. And I take and took the blame for where I am at in life and know it is my decisions that have gotten me here. I’m pretty happy here, now, so I’m going to stay that way by not delving too deep into this blame shifting business,
Last but definitely not my least is verbal abuse. Get me high and give a cell phone with the ability to text as much as I want as many times as I want and numbers for the people guilty of getting involved in my life unasked and taking my kids from me. I can twist words into knives and convince a person to stab themselves with them. I’m a much better manipulator when I’m not on the spot and can edit my commentary. Words are my most powerful weapon and I utilized this during my addiction. I was superior and knew more than anyone else or could at least make it sound like I did. Alex had to deal with a lot of verbal abuse spewed at him at all hours and with no regard to him working hard every day to keep us going. I was an awful jackass to him for a bit while I was getting high. I can honestly say that I was a piece of crap as an addict for a period as most of these things were overlapping on my timeline.