Security Blanket

As I'm in bed writing this, I have my newish security blanket draped over the computer so the bright computer screen doesn't disturb my sleeping husband or big puppy.  It's a fluffy blue blanket that started as a couch cover.  When I was under the weather, I brought it into the bed to cover my face at night, so I wasn't breathing in more cold air or contaminants and making myself sick.  Also, my husband sometimes wraps the blanket around his feet and twists it off me.  With the two blankets, I stay more covered through the night.

I haven't written in this blog too often, but when I do, it is in ways, my security blanket.  I can try to articulate my anxieties and feel relieved and protected.

But I know that security blankets are a myth.  When I was a child, I thought that being in bed asleep, buried in the pillows and stuffed animals under the blankets assured that I wouldn't get awakened and abused by my father.

I was wrong.  I can remember a couple times when he dragged me out of bed to yell at me for whatever horrible crime I had committed.

Anger, especially in one who displays the signs of BPD, is unstoppable.  It's a wave of fury.  It's like a tsunami washing over the land - not just once,  but maybe several times, and each time severe, leaving deep lasting scars.

My dad could have defined the term "road rage".  If he were a gun person, he could have been the first to "go postal".  Although, I don't even know if he's ever hit anyone beside my sisters and me.  Maybe he just saved all that hatred, insecurity, feelings of inadequacy, feelings of injustice in the world, paranoid delusions, and he channeled it all into our "upbringing" and punishment.

Today I was stressed.  I had left home to go to work a few minutes later than I had wanted to.  And it took way too long to turn onto the main road.  And then the interstate was closed.  There had been an accident.  I knew it was pretty bad if they blocked off the ramp completely.  So, someone in the middle lane cut me off.  And I was pissed.  Especially after seeing that there obviously had been a bad accident.  And then the car that cut me off slowed down as the light turned yellow.  That car just made it through the light.  I did not.  It turned red before I got to the intersection.  We have red light cameras all over.  So, I couldn't run the light.  Plus, I always anticipate a car waiting to turn left from the other direction at the last second, as I am often the car doing this.

So, I was pissed.  I was raging.  I screamed in my car.  And then I realized that I was screaming in my car.  And for some reason, I thought of my dad.  And how I didn't want to morph into him.  I was still stressed and angry.  But I realized, at least I wasn't involved in that accident that had closed the interstate.  Maybe if I had left when I had wanted to, I would have been involved in that accident.  Maybe I would have been dead.  That is way worse that missing a yellow light, even though sometimes, it might not feel that way.

And then tonight, I just got some long email from my father's guardian about how his caretaker doesn't ignore his abusive ways enough.  I've never been a caretaker for old people.  But maybe that's their job.  To take old people's abuse, just because they are old?  Sounds like a shitty job.  I don't think I could be paid enough to do that job.

As it is, I've paid enough of my life's blood for my dad's abuse.  Sure, I'm older, that was in the past.  The scars are there, and they have their own topography, and they are ugly and beautiful in their own way.  But they are my scars.  They are my security blanket.  Like when I get a burn, cut or bruise, and I keep touching it to feel the pain and the progress of the healing.  Or like how right now, I'm picking at the scab from the zit on my chin.  Stewing on the fact that I still gets zits at the age of 38 will not make them go away.  And picking at the scab definitely won't make it heal faster.  But it's comforting...

Now To Deal With the Other Father

So, my father-in-law.  He is a big mess.  I see characteristics in him that could fit the BPD profile.

His life is a mess, and it really truly is all his own undoing.  He's broke.  He has no friends or family for support - real support.  He just got notice that his job ends at the end of the month.

And he called my husband tonight to tell him that he should just kill himself.  He said he should hang himself or slit his wrists.  Then later he told him that he took a bunch of pills.  When conferring with his brother-in-law, my husband was told that my husband shouldn't bother to call the police because it was too late.

Then he called and was uncontrollably bawling into the phone.  So, that's when I was urged to call the police.  And they sent the police and paramedics over.

When my husband called his father a little while later, he sounded coherent and more calm.  He talked to one of the paramedics, and was told that his father would be taken to the hospital.  My husband had to tell him that his father told him he was committing suicide.  His father had left that bit of information out of their discussion.

So, now he's going to the psych ward.  I can't help but feel that they won't give him the help he really needs.  He needs rehab from prescription drugs.  He needs intensive psychiatric therapy.  And he needs to learn to live within his means and take responsibility for his actions.

I don't think that's going to happen.

Mathematics

I went to see my dad today.
I left at                                   7:15 am.
I stopped at                            8:45 am
                              for               30 minutes.
I missed my exit and had
to go a different way, getting
me to Lakeland at                  11:40 am.

I met my sister, and we hung
out and got lunch until             1:15pm

We got to the house at              1:25pm.

We stayed until                         4:40 pm.

Then we grabbed a coffee
for the road, and I headed back
home at                                    5:00 pm.

I arrived home at                       8:25 pm.

I spent                                       $7
on crabs that my dad asked for
I spent                                       $7
on the cooler for the crabs
I spent                                        $1.34
on ice for the cooler

I spent                                        $30
for gas on the way out of town.
I spent                                         $35
to refill later.

I spent                                         $20
on lunch.

My sister bought my coffee coolatta :)

Let's do the addition and subtraction, shall we?


Driving there                                           4 hours 35 minutes
Quality time with my sister                      1 hour 55 minutes
Quality(?) time with my dad                    3 hours
Driving back                                            3 hours 25 minutes
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 drive time                                                8 hours
 quality time                                             4 hours 55 minutes


money spent                                            $100.34
(actually, there is still gas left                  -   $40.00
                                                                 ----------
                                                                   $60.34


That was my day off of work.

But you know what, my dad didn't yell at us or call us nasty names or insult us or accuse us of stealing.  So, that's an improvement.  And it was good to see my sister.  And it was good to see my dad might be doing better.... And I felt better after finally meeting his caregiver.
And I have so much catch up to do on this blog, so that maybe this would make more sense, but, if you look at the math, you get this equation:

Me = TIRED(2)

Orientation

So, the wheels have been in motion for a hearing in regards to guardianship for my father.  It's been a little over a month, so far.

I have mixed emotions about everything.  For one, my sisters and I have been communicating with the attorney and the guardian who are filing to claim guardianship over my father.  I have been waiting for this for a while, but I feel so disconnected.  I have not met either the attorney or the guardian.  This woman will be responsible for my father's care and well being, and it seems weird that I never met her.  Depending on what is determined in court, this woman will be possibly directing all aspects of my father's life.

The guardian has been visiting my dad, making sure he's eating, and explaining to him the guardianship process.  I don't know how much of this he is comprehending.  The guardian has already seized his finances and consolidated them to one financial advisor.  My father does not know this, and if he did, he would not handle it well at all.  He has been paranoid all his life about people trying to take his money, and now his biggest fear has been realized.  He doesn't know it yet, though.

He likes his privacy.  The guardian assigned home healthcare for him starting on Tuesday.  It all went well for a few hours until my father told the caregiver to leave because he didn't ask her to go there.  Then, I guess, she couldn't get in the house the next day either.  I don't know if he wouldn't let her in, or if he didn't hear her.  Anyway, this seems like a bit of information that I would like to know.

I know that my dad is better off dealing with strangers, because it will take them a while to get past the orientation stage.  At first, he will be nice, quiet and polite.  Then it will take a while for him to really show the ugly side.  With my sisters and I though, he really is familiar with us and comfortable.  He can turn on a dime and lash out at us very rapidly.  It difficult not to take it personally when it comes out of nowhere, and with such venom.

My dad has insisted a few times that I go there and help him sort out his bank accounts and help him with his taxes.  So he wants me to go there before taxes are due.  Which is only a few days after the hearing.  I can't go there and explain to him why we can't go to the banks to get statements of his accounts that have been moved.  And if we go to the banks and his accounts are gone, he will most likely cause a scene.  And maybe I should let him.  But if I don't show up, then he will take it as abandonment.  As he always does.  Lack of communication - abandonment.  Going to visit him, but not staying long - abandonment.   Not being able to help him with all his errands - idiocy, ignorance, ineptitude, disloyalty.

The guardian is pushing for us to be at the hearing.  If my father sees us at the hearing, he will think of us as being "in on it."  Which is part of what we have been trying to avoid by having the eldercare guardian file for guardianship, herself.

My life is such turmoil right now.  My father's life is about to be in major turmoil.  He thinks the hearing is a court case to "win".  After he plans on winning it, he wants to go to the Bahamas.  He has never wanted to go to the Bahamas in his life.  I'm not sure where he got that idea.  My guess is that going to the Philippines seems to far away or too difficult to travel to.  But maybe the Bahamas is more attainable.  I guess that is one of the places people go to to disappear.

Things are only going to get worse before they get better.  But how much worse, who knows?

On A Bit Of A Different Topic

My father in law.  Who also displays signs of Borderline Personality Disorder.  I might have discussed him previously, but this is fresh on my mind, and I need to vent.

I have chronic insomnia.  If I have anything stressful going on in my life, then I will probably have trouble sleeping at least a couple nights of the week.  I also have always been prone to staying up late, so some nights I sleep 5 hours.  Which isn't enough for me.  Even if I'm jobless.

Last night, my husband was already soundly snoring on the couch at 10 pm.  I was flipping channels, and I stopped at MSNBC.  There were back to back documentaries about sex slaves.  Now, I knew that this was not the kind of programming I should be watching late at night.  But unfortunately, most of the interesting shows that are on late at night are the kind of shows I shouldn't watch before bedtime.

One documentary was just ending.  It was about a caucasian girl in the suburbs, who was being coerced into prostitution.  When she talked with an investigator, the men who were exploiting her kidnapped her dog.  So, she didn't talk about her painful secret for years.

The next one was about a Vietnamese girl named Minh.  Her family moved to the United States when she was young.  Her father raped her and prostituted her, while her mother watched and let it happen.   When Minh started going through puberty, her mother became jealous of her.  When Minh's father raped Minh, instead of having sex with his wife, Minh's mother became jealous, yet she did nothing to stop it.  Instead, she started selling her only daughter for sex, in order to save money and divorce her husband.  Minh was always an overachiever in school, so later, when she told her story, people who had known her as a child were shocked.

The purpose of the series is to inform the public that this can be happening everywhere.  Any brothel, massage parlor, acupuncture clinic, or escort service could be guilty of holding women against their will for prostitution.

What does this have to do with my father in law?  He is a frequent buyer of prostitutes.  Along with his addiction to prescription drugs, he also is addicted to sex.  It came out this summer that he had been spending a fortune on prostitutes for at least 40 years.  That's all of my husband's life.

You know, I know in some areas prostitution is legal.  I know some women enter into this profession willingly for their own reasons.  I know in some cases, it's a perfectly legal business transaction.

I don't know how many times my father-in-law has had sex for money, but it's a lot.  And out of all those prostitutes, the chances of one of them being underage has got to be pretty high.  Also, out of all those prostitutes, the chances of one of them being a sex slave is also pretty high.  If he had known either of these things, would he have still gone ahead with... fulfilling his... needs?  I think yes.

Of course, I do not know.  I can only guess based on what I know of his character.  I've never been fond of the man.  He is a chauvinist and a misogynist.  I have witnessed him treating female servers like ignorant lesser beings several times.  It makes more sense, knowing he thinks of young women and girls as wet holes to be bought and sold for his penile pleasure.

My sister-in-law and mother-in-law were going through his records after the beans were spilled.  He spent $15,000 in one month on three different prostitutes.  All the while, being late on bills, or simply not paying them at all.  Allegedly, his latest "girlfriend" was an acquisition.  The story is that he had to bid on her, like a geisha, for the exclusive relationship with her.  He bought her a 600 series BMW, and he put her in a posh NoHo apartment, along with whatever cash he gave her.  Maybe those were all consensual agreements by legal adults.

However, he works for a company based in South Korea.  Asia.  Part of the world known for prostitution of young children.  I'm sure he's hired a prostitute there.  If he has, the chances of him having engaged in sexual intercourse with an underage South Korean sex slave are almost certain.  I don't even know if there are "of age" prostitutes in South Korea.  Or for that matter, I don't know what the age of consent is.  Here is a disturbing blog about the age of consent in S Korea: http://thegrandnarrative.com/2010/01/11/south-korea-age-of-consent/ .

Regardless of what the legal age is, or if there really is one, the point still stands, there is a natural and moral legal age of consent.  If a girl is not fully developed, whether or not there are laws, it's not right for any man to have sexual relations with her.  If a girl is kidnapped or sold into sexual slavery, it's coercive sex.  And just because a girl does not literally say no does not mean that she is consenting.  Coercion is the same as forcible rape.  I don't really mean to get into technical terms.  My point is, paying to have sex with an underage minor against her will is a terrible crime, and what kind of person would do this?

How can I ever face this father-in-law of mine again?  I don't know if I can, because he's not my father, he's my husband's father.  He is not my father to accuse.

I have not been raped, I have never been sold for sex, I have never been coerced into sexual favors.  But this still hits home because of the emotional abuse factor.  Emotional abuse is the worst kind to me.    I've seen too many people suffer from this invisible form of abuse.  It's a scar that for some people never heals.  I've seen intelligent otherwise clear thinking individuals victimized and rendered helpless by emotional abuse.

I don't want to be a silent witness anymore.  I researched domestic abuse help organizations, and I found this local place: http://www.womenindistress.org/childrens.html  Women In Distress of Broward County.  I signed up for email notices.  Hopefully I can volunteer and do something meaningful with this organization.  Maybe this could be something to help fill the void my mom left.

I can't make everyone happy

Here I am.  Friday night 10:37pm, in bed writing a blog.  I've had a nasty cold (or flu) for a week now, and hopefully (fingers crossed) I will be functional by tomorrow.  I took a dose and a half of Nyquil, since I've developed a tolerance to the stuff.  Hopefully, it will kick in when I'm done with this though.

My husband is holed up in his studio (man cave).  He was seemingly angsty today, and after enough alcohol, he decided to take out the guitar amp and play guitar.  Sounds harmless enough.  Sure, it was quarter to ten, so not too too late.  But as soon as he fired it up and started playing, the dogs next door went haywire, and the cats ran and hid.  It was loud.  No way I could watch TV, although there was nothing on anyway.  I went out front to check how loud it was.  Pretty loud.  I went out back to check.  Even louder.

After a while, I had to go in and tell him to turn it down.  Which I dreaded.  As expected, here I come to lay down the law.  I never allow anyone to have fun.  So, I tried to explain that he just needed to turn it down.  I don't know how loud he had it.  It echoed all over the house, so there's no telling.  That amp is really loud, so even 2 is plenty loud for a club  He turned it down to 1 and a half, and it was still loud.  It was still pretty loud and clear on the neighbor's side.  I started shutting all the doors, to maybe lessen the echo effect.  And then I looked for the cats.  The Fuzz was under the bed, but Stinksy was nowhere to be found.  Not in the closet or on the couch.  So, then I had to go back into the studio to look for him in his favorite closet to hide in.  Not there. Of course, we got into an altercation.  I was telling my husband it was still loud, and of course he was saying how it didn't seem loud at all to him.  But at that point, I was worried about Stinksy.  Maybe in my going in and out of the house he had followed me out but not back in.  Then I found him.  In the utility room cowering next to the hot water heater.  Bad place to hide.  I got him out, anyway.

And my husband and I have not talked since.  He went outside to smoke, and I came in the bedroom.  When he came back in the house, straight to the man cave.  Hopefully, this won't be a ritual for us.

I feel like shit right now.  I'm literally sick.  And I'm tired of feeling guilty.  I dragged him here.  He didn't want to move, didn't want to leave his job, didn't want to leave his friends, didn't want to leave his band.  I couldn't live the way we were living though.  I couldn't.  So, now, he hates our life.  He can't stand being cooped up in the house.  I don't like it either, but I can't complain about it, because then he will ask me why I dragged him here.  Plus, I've been cooped up in an apartment so long previously, that this is way better  We just need jobs.  Then we can meet people and be a part of society and have money to go out.

But also, I have something way bigger, or actually smaller, weighing over my head.  My dad.  He has summoned me to Lakeland.  He tried to call me and left a voicemail and I could not understand anything he said, except for "okay"  when he paused to end the voicemail message.  So, a week later, a cousin and our family friend both called me to tell me that he wanted me to come see him.  His reason was that he wants me to know about the properties he owns in the Philippines.  The ulterior motive, I'm not sure of.

Regardless, I have to go.  I have to go check on him.  I have to see what kind of conditions he is living in.  I have to see what his mental state is.  I have to hear what he has to say, whether or not it makes sense, and I have to help him go all over town and run errands and embarrass me.

Obviously, at this point in time, I don't think I can drag my husband there.  He's so miserable, I can't share this burden with him.  It's not his burden to deal with anyway.  He has his own family problems that he needs to deal with, anyway.

I'm terrified.  I can't imagine facing this man again, and having to interact with him as if he's a totally sane person.  He's not.  I don't think he ever was.  He was at some point functioning, but I don't think he really is now.  He just stays in that house and reads his old papers.  He has no TV, no internet, he doesn't even get the paper.  I don't know where he gets any kind of new of the outside world from.

I think his primary objective is to somehow get to the Philippines.  Maybe he is devising a way to make me take him?  I really don't know.  I can't imagine him being capable of traveling there.  I can't imagine him managing his affairs there, if he can't even do it here.

I don't know if I can do it alone.  I may have to though.