When sleep isn't enough

Woke up wondering if I'm ever going to be well again. Relived Moby's last minutes, and wept a bit. But then I've been breaking out in sobs a lot recently, not always with a specific reason. Grief/exhaustion/virus crying. Best not to be at work for this.

Chatted with neighbor this morning, too. He's worried about the world, as am I, so we consoled each other. I petted Spike - his silver schnauzer-mix-rescue, which is always a happy for both of us.

Feeling the fatalism, twenty or so more years, which is too much, not enough, how can I go on that much longer, let it not be that long, oh no not that little left...

It's the fatigue talking, I know.

Dropping the baggage

Broken toe, broken wrist, death of Moby, death of mother, death of co-worker, fired scrub, two new bullies, long hours, bad virus.

Falling back, tactical retreat. Eventually everything fails apart.

Yes, I wrote that as I intended.

Fuxing bullies

Getting through this cold hard month of darkness and irritation. Scrub cow-orker thinks she's better than anyone at anything, loud and making stupid power-plays. She's not a good scrub, still new, does not see her own failings, makes up words, super confident based on nothing much. Worked with her yesterday, with one of my more high maintenance surgeons on a very long day. At least the resident and PA were helpful and appreciative.

What I don't understand is people who think everyone should like them, and are offended when it isn't true. I've always assumed most people were neutral or didn't much like me, and I'm always so touched and amazed when anyone does like me. Despite the underlying damage that causes my view of the world, it does mean I'm far less susceptible to being shocked with comeuppance when my assumption is proved wrong.

I'm done with bullies. Damn them all.

Dealing with the roiled up crap.

Gaslighting.

I'd never considered that my mother was gaslighting me. And yet.

"Of course he loves you, he's your father!" "Oh, you can't think that!" "How could you think that, that never happened!"

Reframing is a powerful tool. Not that I think it was, mostly, on purpose. She was deeply in denial. But, she had to know, however deep down. She had to know, and not want me to cotton on. She denied my truth, any truth, when it suited her comfort.

not because they value or even like their children (though they’ll use the word “love” like it’s going out of style) but because they want the outside appearance and validation of “We’re Good Parents™, right? And that’s what Good Children™ Do For Good Parents!”

Another one from Captainawkwardcom.


My father used to say he treated me like he did, because the world would be so much harsher on me.

I

have been hungry, I have been cold, I have been sick, and I have been scared but I have never, ever been as unhappy as when I lived under my folks’ roof as a kid and had to just sit there and take whatever it was. Never.

It's hard to see abuse, so call it early and often.

Another gem from the Captain Awkward comments.

You don’t need to be an Abuser to act in abusive ways, and you don’t have to be at the extreme end of abusive behavior to be an Abuser. I think CA’s commentariat has been immensely helpful at validating things we gloss over as “not a big deal” actually being insidious, controlling, and manipulative. But then those things become normalized and minimized which only furthers the victim’s perception that they are the ones being the problem or being unreasonable. People in abusive or toxic relationships often can’t see what is happening to them. It’s important to have people on the outside point to things and say “that is abusive.” Because we’re trained not to use that word unless it’s physical and extreme.

It took me until my mid 20’s to realize my dad was abusive. Because he “just” was controlling, manipulative, argumentative, and threw tantrums. Society told me that stuff wasn’t abuse because it wasn’t ~that bad~. Even once I recognized his behavior was abusive, it took other people naming those behaviors “abusive” out loud for me to start using that word to describe it myself. Before that he was just an asshole. People don’t like the “a” word but it needs to be said, and I’m grateful to CA’s community for being so level-headed and blunt about it.

Cat boundaries

Via Captain Awkward comments.


Agggh – that reminds me of the dim and distant days of my Family of Origin, and the abuse and bad stuff that both parents used to unleash on me through my childhood. One of my Mum’s favourite sayings, to show that we were expected to put up with the crap, was “A dog, when it’s beaten, always comes back for more.”
That was the family ideal. Seriously.
My advice to anyone else in that situation? Be a cat.


I’ve often said that the reason a lot of people hate cats is because they suck at respecting boundaries. They get mad and offended when the cat they’re chasing runs away, or wants to sit next to them on the couch instead of on their lap, or walks away when they’re done being petted. So cats are mean and jerks because they set and enforce boundaries (as well as anything that weighs 8 pounds can, at least).


I know a cat who is actually pretty good at respecting my boundaries – her owner is fine with bitey and scratchy play, I am not, if Cat wants to play with me she has to use Soft Paws or play stops. I’d say her level of success in this is about at that of a little kid, in that she starts well and usually gets over excited, but I’m okay with that.
I mean she also yells when it rains and keeps trying to eat my food, so I’m not sure she’s a great role model.


Cats will respect the boundaries that you enforce. If you don’t consistently enforce your boundary, the cat knows it’s not really a real boundary. 🙂


I had a cat who was an excellent boundary setter who escalated consequences perfectly. Get in his personal space too aggressively? He’d squawk. If the offender didn’t back off, he’d swat with claws in. If they still kept at it he’d swat with claws out and leave. We introduced him to many puppies since he was so great at communicating and enforcing appropriate boundaries. I try to channel him often, although I am not always successful.


My parents’ cat hasn’t let me touch her since 2012 when I put her in the cat carrier. Which annoys me, but I respect the hell out of it.

Rage inheritance

My father's rage, my mother's anger.

It’s like a liver, or a starfish: if she cuts off a piece of that feeling and gives it to you, it will grow back to full size, in both of you.

I want my fuckin' money, Lebowski.

I want it over.