Cleo is prettier than me

It is really helpful for me to write all this out. 

I have always been a romantic.  I remember one fairytale from my childhood, it was my favorite.  You might think it was Cinderella because I had 2 older sisters (one a step) and a stepmother, but it was another.  In the story a boy was given to the forest folk for some reason, and raised by them feral in the woods.  He met a girl from the village and they fell in love.  In order to marry she had to hold him close while his body went through changes (fire, ice, scales)... if she could hold on through all that she got to keep him.  She did it, they married, happily ever after.  That always struck a cord. 

I met Ron, he had plenty of scales.  He was injured in the accident... I knew the ending to this!  "She stood by his side, he recovered, they lived happily ever after!  He would love, value, and cherish her forever now". 

Did I mention one analysis of my damage stated I was "Extremely naive and trusting"? 

That's sort of my mindset my adult life.  That if I just hung on Ron would improve and appreciate me.  In some ways I was right - as the other vendor has gone through a steady stream of employees I am right there stocking the machines.  He doesn't have to worry about me stealing or cheating on him.  I take good care of him and his cat.  I'm not going anywhere and he knows that. 

But.. he has deteriorated in how he treats me and that bothers me more than all the rest.  I don't care if he gets confused about the room he's in, the day, etc.  He knows me, and the cats.  It is a problem when he is always lashing out at me as if I'm the one who ran over him.  

I am OK with the wheelchair.  I am OK with the blindness and hearing loss.  I am OK with the bad back, nerve damage, and paralysis.  I am OK with the head injury issues and occasional confusion.  None of that is tearing me up. 

I am not OK with him constantly flogging me verbally, shouting at me, etc.  This morning he woke me up because his back hurt and he wanted something for it.  I did that.  He was not a jerk and I was happy to help.  He even said thank you. 

But shouting at me because he knocked his chair over, accusing me of hiding it, and calling me a "bitch" - no, not OK.  Spilling the urinal - OK.  Shouting at me over it?  No. 

You get the idea, it is a treatment issue and not a damage one.  I don't know if it is fixable.  Is Ron just that broken that he can't see what he is doing to me?  Or is his brain just that fvcked up?  I'm not sure. 

There is really no way to tell without an evaluation and he does not want one.  I know alcohol has a lot to do with it.  Is it a "because he is drunk at the time" issue?  Or is it a "Because he drank so much he ruined his brain" issue?  They would be addressed very differently. 

As I said in one of my comments, I have advocates, my aunt is sort of the family social worker.  My uncle is a lawyer and did up our wills.  My Dad was an engineer.  No one wants me moving in with 6 cats but they would provide a reference at least.   Could I stay in the house?  Could I find an apartment on a bus line that would take 6 cats?  If I paid enough I bet I could find one. 

That is one thing they do in Houston, "pet rent", $25 a month for each pet in our apartment.  That's an easy $150 extra a month for my landlord if it came to that and I would absolutely pay it.  My gang are not very adoptable except Spotty and his Mom. 

See, I do think about these things.  But I also have to focus on the here and now, keeping things running as long as I can.  Like checking on our trips for tomorrow, reminding him to pay the gas bill (the mail service is still screwed up due to the building collapse at work), etc.  I take care of the cats, he just pets them and treats them.  Pretty good deal for him! 

And Cleo is making really good progress, allowing a lot more petting and sticking close to me.  I think the hamburger was really key.  She adores her hamburger, as you saw in the video.  No one else likes it so she doesn't have to compete.  I make a lot of progress with her, when I have a little nibble of hamburger in my hand.  She's such a sweet little girl - kicked around but still wants to trust.  Kind of like me. 

Although I would say she is prettier than me.  :)