Surrounded by craziness.
That’s the simplest way to describe the people I feel stuck with so often. They will never go away. Well, I should say they won’t go away until I’m strong enough to make them. Yet, it amazes me the depths of the mental instability. So often I just sit here, silently listening, saying WTF inside of my head.
My husband is a pretty crappy person. I can admit this. He’s selfish, rude, controlling, gaslighting. Of course he will say he isn’t. He doesn’t care, he isn’t controlling. He simply deserves all of this respect in the world. You get what you give. People can’t respect you when you do anything but respect others. His thought process is bizarre. The fact he truly believes he’s so special is amazing. Nothing is his fault. It will never be. It’s everyone else. Everyone else ruins his day. Everyone else makes him upset. “I don’t like to yell at you.” Are you kidding me? The last time I heard that I walked away laughing, while muttering he gets off on yelling. At anyone.
I have learned over the years to simply not care. I don’t include him in my daily life. I do what I want. For me. I make myself happy. I focus on me. His narcissistic personality hates every moment of this. Hates the loss of control. Hates that I simply don’t care. Want to leave? There’s the door. I’m not begging you to stay. I. Don’t. Care. Of course, this just makes him angrier. To try harder to gain back the control. Which isn’t happening.
Today I get home from dinner with friends as someone else is pulling up to drop off a (free) play house. First he starts by telling me he hates when people come over when he gets home. Ummm, I didn’t even know they were coming and they didn’t even come inside. Then he hates the playhouse. Uhhh, okay. (Showed him pictures of it. Told him it was coming. Never cared before.) None of this works – You aren’t allowed to have people here when I’m off work. Ummm, that’s the same hours I’m off? Well, then you just can’t have people over. You’re telling me I can never have anyone over ever? Not from 5-8. So, your like my dad now? This is how you’ll exercise your control? You think that’s going to work?
I walked away while he continues to bitch. In reality, I know he’s pissed I went to dinner. And I didn’t reply to his text while I was out as I didn’t have service. Or maybe because his mom called him too. It’s ridiculous to me. I WILL do me. Thursday I go out of town for a couple days and I do not care. I can’t wait. To escape for a couple nights. Six more weeks and I’m escaping for 8 nights. Thank. God.
His mom – I know she’s insane too. I’ve realized it more and more over the last year. Today she called and wanted a favor. Okay, sure, whatever. Then she continues to tell me she needs the favor as her daughter used to help her but they aren’t talking. She goes on and on about this. It’s all his sister’s fault. Mom is innocent. This goes on long enough for me to draw a conclusion. One I’ve had for a long time but it was just more concrete in the moment. His mom has groomed him into this narcissist from being exposed to her own narcissism his entire life. I suggested maybe she too should apologize to her daughter. Oh, no, it’s not me. But you’re the one that hung up on your daughter? (Over a trivial conversation.) No, she needs to. I won’t converse with those that don’t respect me and I’ve decided I’m okay never talking to her again until I die if that’s how it has to be because she needs to learn. Seriously, it’s your CHILD? Be the adult. Nope. Negative. She was adamant she’s the victim. She deserves the apology. She will not bow. It’s her life and she has the right to control it. Yeah, okay, I have to go.
When my husband walked in the door later and began his rampage all I could think was…. You sound exactly like your mom. Like identical. She groomed you to be her. It left me dumbfounded. How? How can people behave like that? This. This is why I don’t talk to them often. I hate this.
Why? Why do I settle for these people? It’s easy? Or maybe because it’s normal? My own mom is also similar. Though, she won’t make me apologize. But she too is always the victim. She too needs to look like the great person, a hero, the best human out there. She’s not the same as them. Yet similar. It’s like these two are the victim/overt narcissistic behaviors, whereas my mom is a covert/martyr/victim all in one. Reading descriptions she too is described perfectly but meets the descriptions these two don’t. She volunteers or buys lunch for someone or gives a homeless person money. Yet, not silently. She then posts on Facebook how busy she is volunteering or the classic “gave a homeless person XYZ today” or “saw the family from the trial today and bought their lunch”. Not an anonymous gesture but something that gets all these “you’re amazing” comments. Barf.
She’s always been like this. She always will be. Anytime someone does something she cries and turns it into being about her. I still remember getting divorced and being told she felt like she was the one getting divorced. Being told “this is just what you do, you never stay with anyone”. Back then, I didn’t settle. I left when it got bad. I ran. I knew my worth. I got an order of protection and she let him move in, went to the bars with him, dinner. That was the moment I swore I’d rather settle than ever need her again.
And here I am – Groomed from childhood into accepting this. Into thinking this craziness is normal. It’s like I found a family just like my own and gave up. Being stuck with these people is easier than being stuck with my mom who I can’t get free of. Yet, here I am, still stuck. Why have I convinced myself this is better?
I am beginning to understand more of how I got to this point in life. Why I’ve always picked assholes and thought it was okay. Now it’s a matter of working through the fact it isn’t okay and learning to reteach my brain it’s worthy of more.
Yet, I don’t want to leave. I like my house. I like my dogs. I like my car. I wish he’d leave. I wish I’d win the lottery. I wish I could somehow keep this exact life and just subtract him from it. I’m not interested in changing anything but his presence. So instead I sit here. Learning how to live for myself and simply pretend he isn’t really here. It’s a start. A slow start. But any start is better than none. Not cowering to his insane attempts at control are what matters. I can’t expect instant changes but I know I’m making progress. Heck, even these slow realizations are progress.
Someday there will be more progress. Someday it’ll be amazing.