Monday, May 4, 2015

Dancing with monsters

Yesterday was truck day.  I bought, loaded, and moved about 50 cases. 

Ron and I compromised.  He is now buying water from the other vendor, so I don't have to get it from the warehouse. 

We did end up buying 10 cases of green tea; it's been hugely popular.  We got plenty of nice, heavy drinks. 

I had a mild/moderate headache.  With migraines, you can get a "rebound" - another headache after the original, but it wasn't a migraine and I've worked with worse.  I took some Excedrin (which also gave me plenty of energy, from the caffeine), and it worked very well. 

I broke one of my rules.  Ron went to the liquor store and I asked him to bring me some cold soda, the day of my migraine.  I was presented with 2, one liter bottles, of Diet Dr Pepper. 

Props for remembering my favorite drink, and getting a large size, but the one-liter is my least favorite.  They always taste flat and dead, but, I'm looking at the intent. 

I drank what I had left, and went to work. 

We got it all done, went to work, loaded the machines, tried to make Snack #3 my b*tch, but didn't (It's been misbehaving).  Agh.  I think I will need a new control board, but it was behaving today. 

All that done, I literally came home, collapsed, watched The Avengers (I like superhero movies), ate, pills, went to bed. 

I overslept, but something woke me up; giving me enough time to prepare for the day.  We went to work, got it all done today, talked to the other vendor. 

Ron wished me a happy Star Trek day.  He can never remember the difference between Star Wars and Star Trek.  Well, I didn't ask God for a geek, and he's a hard worker. 

A lot of the new people think I'm a monster when they see Ron working, sometimes struggling to do something, by himself.  I will always help him when asked, but he doesn't want me to hover.  Of course they don't understand. 

One guy read me the riot act yesterday.  The way he talked I could tell he was one of those backstabber gossip jerks who tried to make my life a living hell after the accident, blaming ME.  Um, I didn't drive the pickup that ran him over, and Ron had walked to work for 30 years previous to that day.  I didn't say that. 

I didn't say anything.  Ron will talk to him.  The guy's addicted to RC cola, and we're the only vendors selling it.  Ron's going to threaten to remove the drink (which isn't a big seller) if he hassles me again.  Ron will also explain that "I am doing exactly what I want to do.  I don't want her help unless I ask for it." 

Ugh.  That is the good, and bad thing, about work, everyone's in your business.  We took the coin sorter to work and Ron used it.  After some initial glitches (snort), we got it going.  We left it in our locked stockroom. 

I feel it's a lot safer there - see how I only just told you after I got it out of the house?  [grin]  I have a little OPSEC.  At any rate, work has a steel door, security badge entrance, and security cameras everywhere. 

I have been worried about it "walking" if we got robbed again.  I aim to have undesirable, no-street-value, items, in my home.  As much as possible, at any rate. 

I doubt anyone wants my Bibles; well, the recipient's Bibles.

We went to Carl's JR for brunch/date night.  I was a little upset, Ron spent the whole time on the phone with the electric company, shouting.

As it turns out, he had a brain freeze not long ago, and entered the wrong bank information while paying the bill.  The electric company froze his account, he can only make cash payments for 30 days.

I was a little annoyed, but then I asked myself where I had put the water bill?  [laugh]  Hell if I know, I did find it later.  Ron, while flawed, is still a far better "accountant" for our finances.

We came home, I took a nap.  Ron confided he had really been worried about the electric thing, so I forgave him (and he apologized, very sweetly).   I got home and took a good long nap.

I did my God Time when I got up.

Since I am not depressed (and sometimes a migraine will flip my mood), I did some housework, putting the winter stuff up in the garage, sorting out donates, and throwing away obvious trash.  I was very pleased.

Not so pleased when Ron told me he has been having "one sip" of vodka every night.  We know where this ends, but I didn't say anything.  I need to figure out how to do audio recordings on my phone.   [sigh]  I have a feeling I'll need it. 

Ron thinks he can dance with monsters.  He is a far better man than the one I met; I respect so much... but I hate alcohol addiction. 

Speaking of, I will be working Mother's Day.  I'm sure some with think "Oh, you never had kids". 

I never wanted kids; I was terrified I would fail them the way my mother failed me.  When I think "Mommy" and try to recall early childhood memories, I just recall the scent of skin: sweating, alcohol, and cigarettes.  Neglect.  Hunger.  Fear.  

Mother's Day just isn't a good day for me.  I see all this on Facebook about how Mother was so wonderful, so caring, self sacrifice, etc... she couldn't even stop drinking for 9 months during a planned pregnancy.  

I don't hate her, although I did.  She maimed me for life.  She altered the way I interact with women for the rest of my life.  I fear and distrust them, with some exceptions.  She showed me I didn't deserve basic nurturing, empathy, and compassion - that everyone else's needs came before my own. 

But, it's frustrating.  My whole life, it seems, everyone took her side.  "Oh, well she lost a baby... of course...." 

Let me tell you, I know plenty of women who lost a baby (an infant, not a pregnancy), and they were wonderful mothers to their subsequent children.  Yes, they love and miss the child in heaven, but they don't drown themselves, and the child, in an alcoholic sea of self pity. 

No, it's not OK that she did that - despite what even my therapists told me.  Once I dealt with that it's a lot easier to move on. 

I think the worst thing you can do to someone who has suffered injustice is to make the perpetrator, a victim.  Yes, I can now view my mother with pity.  I can now view the man who ran over my husband with pity.  But it took a lot of very hard work for me to arrive. 

The worst thing you can do to a "victim" is to tell them their pain doesn't matter, that someone else's pain was more important. 

That's what I think, when I think "Mother's Day".   Damned sure I'm working. 



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