For the Love of a Foul Mood
Entry 10/10/2014 12:31:42 PM – Mentat 757
I have been in a hell of a foul mood since this morning when I received a call from my mother informing me that the reason why she had been pulled into surgery yesterday morning. It wasn’t about the fact that I hadn’t been told that the reason why there was surgery yesterday for the skin grafting that they had performed to thicken up her thin skin around the ankle area. Seriously that was to be expected. The thinning skin around her ankle since the accident has been an issue of contention since they put the pins and plate to hold together her ankle some months ago after the accident with the Monster Child. What set it off this morning was in fact the news of her coming home maybe on Sunday and that for a while afterwards, she’s going to be laid up and have to keep off her foot and have it elevated while she’s healing. What set me off is the fact that this is going to put me in a difficult position with her husband. Now this is why… Three weeks ago this Sunday there was an incident between he and I.
It started with going over my mother’s for dinner.
I went a little bit earlier than usual, partially because I know how my mother has been since breaking her ankle and she usually ran dinner a bit earlier because of it. So when I was over there, while my mother was finishing her cooking (boiling potatoes for mashed potatoes), I watched a few of the subscription videos in advanced. By the time we sat down I was sort of confused about Twitter and the fact that my ADD was acting up (thanks largely to the various aches and pains in the back of my head and sinuses as well as the cramps from whatever I ate two or three days ago). So I was trying to do a quick scan of the messages and why I received a notification and who it was from… And was about to give up the search as dinner was about to be served, when my mother’s husband starts asking how big a piece of pork.
It’s the same question week to week to week… How big do you want? And unless I’m ill, ate really big for lunch or queasy, I have settled for the same amount and the same size of any cut of meat — be it meatloaf, pork, beef roast — it’s bigger than my mother’s but smaller than his. So I just said, “use your best judgment.. You know how big I usually have…”
He asked again, I said the same thing…
Then he gave me a sliver of a slice from the end of the roast as I was putting the phone to the side. He had a smug look on his face like, ‘this is what you get for not answering the question I asked.’
I looked at him, then my mother and instead of allowing myself to be ruffled by it because he had the scowl going when I didn’t react the way he wanted, and said something about being an asshole and having my nose in my phone. So with a little drama and putting my hands in the air said I was going home and would be by the next day.
I remember hearing noise about it, and the next thing I know the serving fork and then the carving knife came at me. They both hit the chair at the table and fortunately for me: they both missed.
He followed me to the door, and while I’m now hazy as to what happened at that point, remember saying I didn’t want to hit him, but he hit me. At the back door he hit me…
He hit like a girl. Or rather not like someone with so many years of military experience in the Marines. But that didn’t mean I was just going to stand there and take it either. So, I struck back. It was damned sloppy though… I was in sandals and couldn’t get a good stand or counter, but at least self-defensive. I pushed him to the garbage bin, with a light choke hold and as there was another sloppy scuffle where he was holding me by the collar for a long time, but after my mother intervention and my warning him that I was left-handed and that hand was free to strike, he let me go and I left the house.
In hindsight, my attitude in this — with or without ADD — was bound to happen. If I’m asked the same thing over and over for course of at least two years and my patterns are clearly defined, I get tired of answering the same question or saying the same thing ad nausea. In the past I would have really had an explosive moment because such painstaking banality used to drive me to utter distraction. After all how many times can you ask, “how big a piece do you want?” and not catch a pattern to it without the normal cues (to the exception)? Now, I simply ignore it or brush it off.
I told my mother the next day I would give him a week’s time to apologize for his act of violence. I went on to tell her that if he simply screamed at me, I probably would’ve apologized for me actions; but the instant he hit me and threw things at me — he wouldn’t get any respect from me until that action was apologized for. My mother told me that it would be a cold day (in hell) before he would ever apologize for what he did. That convinced me right then and there and confirmed it at a week’s time when he didn’t seek me out to apologize for this act of violence he was a bully (at best) or an abuser (at worst).
Since then, my mother has done her best to keep the two of us apart. She’s pretty much told me that dinners with her and her husband are a thing of the past. When it came to laundry up until this week she and I would be going instead of putting me in the car with him (and doing it alone at the laundromat).
She’s told me that the reason why she’s holding off is that she wants it to be at the “right time”. She’s told me that she’s afraid that he might hit her if I confronts him. She has put me in the right difficult position of trying to make me promise I won’t confront him while she’s currently in the hospital. While I didn’t actually promise, I did say that I would do my best not to confront him during this time.
The problem with me is that this has gone on for too long. I’m not about to let go of it. It’s built up rancour and more anger than what I’ve dealt with dealing with the two ex-douche nozzles I used to deal with in Olneyville. I’ve been in one too many abusive relationships and I refuse to sit idly by while a bully thinks he can get away with hitting me Scot-free without repercussion or apology. And it’s only a matter of time before our paths cross, and it’s not going to be pretty; particularly when I happened to have perused his coupon for Cialis… Yeah, excuse me… you have anger and violence issues, the last thing anyone would be worrying about is whether or not they can keep their penis erect… But that’s just me, right?
Anyway, that’s what’s really set me off… Because between my mother might be coming home Sunday (and having to watch the dog), coupled with my pussy-footing around my mother’s husband, coupled with the difficulties that will crop up next week with the laundry and everything else… I just think it would be easier for everyone (or perhaps needs to come to a head) by confronting it, instead of ignoring it like the Pink Elephant in the room.
Well, I’m going to wander for the time being. Mail to check, dog to walk, and listening to something that should sooth the savage nerves. Until the next time.