Me, upset, about a couple of things

It sounds like most people would rather get the cat photo.  I will try to be better about cleaning up but I'm disabled, so's he, I have to take care of him, run a business, not a lot of time for cleaning.  But I do the litter boxes every night. 

I drank some diet root beer last night.  That has been implicated, in the past, with mild to moderate headaches.  But I also have some hormonal issues going on this week (late again) and woke up with a blinding migraine.  I had tears running down my face, it was so bad.  Unlike some people I did not moan, scream, and cry out loudly, waking everyone up.  I just curled up in a ball as small as I could get.  Not a peep. 

But I had Arturo coming at 10 to take me to the vet.  The vet was expecting me.  Cleo was expecting me.  4 AM.  What am I going to do?  I took some Excedrin and went back to bed, after putting a six pack of Diet Dew in the fridge.  I have found it helpful, in the past to drink large amounts of very cold diet soda during a migraine.  It gets me to functional. 

I did throw a couple scoops of food at Biscuit's bowl, which was empty.  Spotty has found the urinary formula to be delicious.  I always keep that out for Biscuit because it is basically medicine, but, according to vet, OK for other cats. 

I rested a little until my alarm went off again.  Still pretty bad, took more Excedrin.  Good luck sleeping ever, again, after all that caffeine. 

I dragged myself out of bed.  If I had not made a commitment to Cleo, the vet, and Arturo I would have stayed in bed.  I took a hot shower, took a little edge off.  Excedrin and multiple dews kicked in (drank the whole six pack in a couple hours), I was functional. 

I decided to take the liver and chicken cat food as everyone hates it.  Arturo came, we left and went to the vet.  Nice thing, he knows all the places I go so no directions. 

We got there, I handed over the carrier.  I did not call first because I wanted to hand over the soft, padded carrier with a warm towel for Miss Cleo's ride home.  I had ovarian surgery in 2001 and it was a pretty uncomfortable ride home.  And I would ALWAYS rather be accused of spoiling. 

They brought out the hard metal cage and put it in the trunk, then brought Cleo in the soft carrier.  She looked adorable, eyes bright, looking around and a few soft meows when she saw me.  We discussed her care - I will be bringing her back for stitch removal in September, along with her mother for vaccines.  I like multiple trips - more than one cat at a time.  It is easier and cheaper for me.  The cab fare can be spent on pet food or litter instead.  Then I have to bring her 2 weeks later for her vaccine booster. 

I hope I can catch her.  I asked about getting the leather gloves they use and they said they would look into it.  They said she just hung out in the back of the cage, was a good eater when allowed, and a nice girl overall.  They all remarked how pretty she is with the calico tabby markings and copper colored eyes. 

I paid (not too bad) and took her out to the cab, we went home.  Arturo left the cage on the porch while I took Cleo in the door.  I set her down and then got the cage.  I do not want the sickos in my neighborhood getting ahold of a cat cage.  I put the cage away in the garage while Cleo hung out on the floor in her box.  When I came back her brother was waiting for her to be released.  I let her go and he immediately went over to her, sniffing.  He followed her around everywhere, his body language very happy to be reunited with his buddy after 3 weeks.    They used to play a lot outside before I caught Spot.   Mama showed up too, looking at me as if to say "Another one?"  That is it, Mama.  No more babies. 

Later on I caught Mama cat grooming Cleo's head. 

Cleo went under the couch for a couple minutes and then smelled the cat food, came out and stood where I feed them.  I opened up a can of mixed grill and made a couple of portions on various plates.  I set one down for her and she went to work with a good appetite.  Some of the other cats came over and ate, too.  I even let Big Mouth (Biscuit) get a few bites as an introduction.  I hope I don't regret that decision.  He really only had 3 bites. 

Cleo got enough to eat and went back under the couch.  She makes periodic forays and heads back to base camp. 

Ron got up, got in his wheelchair, got some treats, and sat by the couch talking to her, making it rain treats.  She ate them.  She loves treats (we were giving treats when she was still outside).  And she felt safe enough to go just feet from Ron.  I told him he has an advantage, since he will never make eye contact with her she will warm up to him quickly. 

She is only 3 pounds, by the way.  Ron went back to bed and I got on the computer. 

She is a huge fan of mixed grill cat food.  I went ahead and ordered a case of it from Chewy.  I would hate to order some from Walmart and they're out, she doesn't have her favorite food.  It may be better to get this on auto-ship if she likes it (it's another brand).  All the cats like mixed grill.  I don't know what animals are in it but if they're happy so am I. 

I treated the yard, basically around the house and one large fire ant mound, yesterday.  It promptly rained.  Not sure if that is good for it or not, but it's raining again today.  It will either wash it into the ecosystem or into the ground and kill all the ants. 

I am finally feeling better.  Not really hungry yet, though. 

Ron is shouting at me.  Why?  Yesterday I asked him if he wanted to do a pull (take the money out of the machines).  He said yes, and then he said no.  So I left that bag (with the rubber bands in it), left the house without the bag.  We get to work and he says "I want to do a pull". 

I tell him that will be very difficult as we don't have the bag, with the supplies "Do it anyway".  So I did.  I only found two rubber bands.  Normally I like to use one rubber band for each machine x 8 machines.  But I only had two rubber bands (and not good ones) for them.  I made it work. 

Just now Ron said he wanted to start counting the money.  Fine.  I put the money in the proper bag with all the rubber bands, and gave it to him.  He got started.  He is shouting at me because I "messed it up and made it hard".  I told him HE is the one... and then he started shouting me down and yelling bitch at me.  I only stopped because I did not want to freak out Cleo.  But it's his fault, I told him that.  He is making asshole comments about what a bitch I am "Doing it her way" etc.  No, HE is the one who said leave the bag at home!  Next time he asks me to take the money out without a bag I will say NO you don't like it when I do.  Even if he gets mad. 

It's the whole distorted thinking of taking something he asked me to do and twisting it into me attacking him.  It takes quite a feat to travel that road but he is firmly at the destination.  He does this so often and it gets me so frustrated.  Here is the man who used to play counselor with his parents, one would go to him and complain about the other, he would give advice, from the time he was a kid.  So he decided he would be a counselor and went to college (paid for by the state) for psychology, read some of the top 70's self help books, fell in love with Transactional Analysis ("I'm OK and You're OK"), dropped out "I couldn't find readers to help me".  Thinks he is The Great Psychologist.   He used to run this scam on a talk line, "Dr Problem tell me all about your problems" and he would play counselor for hours every night, ignoring me. 

At the time when I met him he was attentive and said all the right things, I was the victim, they were the bad guys, no one understood me like he did.  At one point he said he liked me so much better than women his age because they were all cynical.  Looking back I believe he meant they were onto his games and wouldn't play.  He even told me I had to "believe in Transactional Analysis" because "A TA expert with a wife who doesn't use it is like a pastor whose wife is an atheist".  How bloated! 

I wish I could go back in time and scream some sense into younger me, SO MANY RED FLAGS but I had no one, really, to help.  When I bounced some problem issues off my stepmother she blew them off.  She was totally on board the Ron train from the SECOND she heard he was fixed and would not get me pregnant.  She had been told they would have to care for me, I would never be able to live on my own.  Ron was going to take me off her hands. 

She used to leave written psych reports on me, out on the counter for everyone to read, but never did that with "her baby".  And I know he had them, too.  So I knew all this. 

Of course Ron said the experts were wrong and "I could do whatever I wanted with him" something along those lines.  "They didn't really know you, like I do" etc.  I was manic.  I was done with living there.  So I went along. 

Of course Ron was a little more interested in the manic sexual behaviors and thought he had met another sex addict.  That was not the case - and good for him, now.  I had a pretty good mania that summer and only crashed into depression after I had moved in with him.  Then he would force me into sex by threatening to throw me out if I didn't.  He didn't care that I didn't want it... he was just interested in getting off. 

And when I got bladder infections he became very angry and accused me of being "sickly", never once looking at his own grooming habits and how that might affect me.  The whole relationship was about Making Ron Happy.   

Yes, I'm a little bitter that I wasted so much time on a NARCISSIST.   He wants things his way, all the time, has a f*cking tantrum every time they don't, doesn't want to grow, improve, learn new ways to deal with anger and frustration.  No, SCREAM REAL LOUD. CALL NAMES, GET REAL DRUNK are about the extent of his toolchest.  I would like to think I have developed some better methods, this probably being method #1. 

Years ago I was on a message board.  One woman always used to post her bipolar husband was "mean" to her.  Every time, I would tell her to find out if he stopped his medication.  Every time, he had.  I finally told her to take it for granted, he had stopped, every time he was "mean" to her. 

Another woman related some disturbing behaviors from her husband.  The most notable was with their 13 year old daughter, who had 'blossomed".  He would wrestle with her on the floor, pin her down with her asking him to stop, and lick her face while she struggled.  I said, if the authorities find out about that it is sex abuse and he could get in big trouble, you, too, for allowing it.  She told me to go to hell, it was innocent. 

He left her on their anniversary.  And now she posts a bunch of memes about recovering from narcissist abuse.  I tried to warn her, about 5 years ago. 

I am just tired and frustrated.  Ron does "dementia" [there I typed it out] type stuff on an ongoing basis, I tell him "You are scaring me".  I am onboard for helping him through that but this whole tantrum, screaming thing just has to go.  One thing about the accident he lost the more subtle manipulations and mind tricks, but how sad to know that he ABSOLUTELY would have "done" my mother and sister if he had gotten an opportunity.  Birth mother, not step.   He is ALWAYS trying to use my past against me and "You are just like your mother, so heartless and cold", knowing I am raw about the fact I had a mother who was so neglectful she would leave me starving in a filthy diaper. 

He really think that world revolves around serving him, because basically every person he has ever met has asked "How can I make your life better?"  and busted their ass to make it happen.  Some of my favorite drivers are the ones who tell Ron "Don't talk about that" or "No".  It is beautiful.  It always takes him aback but he stops. 

Ron can be that person, the immature, selfish, one who has tantrums, screams, curses out, and shuts down people trying to communicate (logically) with him.  I can do little about that.  When he is more rational I will remind him he asked me to leave the bag at home and told me to "go ahead" when I told him I didn't have rubber bands. 

He is in for a hard road if he thinks acting like that will endear him to Cleo.  It will take more than drunkenly shaking a few treats on the floor. 

He just told me he doesn't have money to pay me.  We only have enough money for inventory on Saturday.  I told him I can wait until Monday, well, Tuesday.  He does not want to go to the bank to turn the $1's in to $20's, he wants to "borrow from savings" (and never pay it back, as usual - then when the crisis hits we will have NOTHING because he PISSED IT ALL AWAY).  Says *I* will be responsible for paying back savings, so likely looking at paying savings or MYSELF.  NO THANKS. 

If I have to, I will go on the damned bus by myself like I did the other time to convert the money.  This is what he does: he does not save money, ever.  He waits until he is in desperate need of money to pay sales tax and either takes it out of savings, or inventory money, which results in a subsequent raise on savings.  Home insurance?  Oh, no, we don't take it out every month like normal people, we wait until 1 week before it is due and take it out of inventory money, and hope Heather had enough inventory to coast until we get it back. 

ADDITIONALLY frustrating.  He is so irresponsible with money now.  I am amazed we have any savings.  He does not ever see the point in taking some out every time for savings, for bigger expenses like sales tax, etc.  No, he spends it all, every time. 

HOW DID WE GET A HOUSE?  He didn't USED to do this! 

Now he is trying to sweet talk Cleo after shouting and cursing nastily for a while.  I venture she is smarter than that.  He has this thing lately - he only keeps his alcohol in the kitchen because it was "too easy" in the back of the house, he was having blackouts and drinking more during the blackout because it was right at hand, etc... we both agree it needs to be far from his bed.  So he sits in the kitchen right next to the bottle listening to TV on wireless headphones, or radio on headphone, drinking and sitting there and being in the way.  I use the kitchen whenever I get a drink.  I fix snacks, the kitchen is about 50 square feet.  If he's in the kitchen no one else can access.  And I really don't want him around loitering and drinking. 

If he wants to get drunk fine, drink quickly and go back to bed.  Don't make it "an experience" of sitting in the kitchen for hours with the bottle of vodka.  If you're going to do that you might as well take the bottle to your bedroom.  I don't want him around, drinking.  Ever.  

Maybe I should make him put the bottle in the garage.  He won't linger out there. 

I got him to bed.  He almost fell.  He said we are going to work tomorrow.  I told him we don't need it.  He said we can go to work tomorrow and go to the bank on Friday.  I said tomorrow is Friday.  He said we will go Monday, I said it is a holiday. 

I asked him to make a ride to the bank and we have nothing.  It is almost the end of the month, maybe he can redeem one of his 5 "favors" (a month) to do it.  Or I will go on the bus. 

He may be irresponsible but I don't have to be.  You go to savings because it is an emergency, not because you are too lazy to go to the bank.