Okay, so yeah, I am totally making fun of Twitter with the hashtag symbol because I think it’s asinine but til the season to be catty…
I am at the end of my rope with the sleep disturbance, R, my kid, and today I came to the shop with some bedding to dry and Kenny started in on when is he going to fix your dryer, this is costing money on the power bill…
Cripes, cut me a break here, flying spaghetti monster, God, Budha, whatever deity is pulling the strings of suckage.
It took forever for the melatonin to kick in last night. When it did, it was after 9:30. And bam, I was awake at 10:18 and while checking the time on my phone, I saw I had missed a call at 9:49 from his highness. Four years of being told not to call after nine p.m. as it impacts the effectiveness of my sleep pills and he still disregards it, ffs. That got the anxiety and agitation flowing. I woke again after midnight, after one, then around four, and on the one day my kid could have slept in an extra 15 minutes because it’s pajama day at school so there was no fashion crisis to battle…she wakes at 6 then wants to cuddle in my bed which entails her yapping, squirming, kicking, and basically not cuddling, just irking me. So the sleep experience was shoddy, as usual.
But since she woke me up, my brain started rioting again, stressing over R and this shop and oh, the hellidays. My sister and stepmonster had a public incident at Wal-Mart that involved kicking each other-all because dad and stepmonster got a Christmas card from one of my sister’s friends they don’t like and they were mad my sis gave out their address. WTF? This friend has been to their house multiple times, and all she did was mail a card, why is that kicking in public worthy? Of course, later the stepmonster called to apologize to my sister for being an ass but still…It does not bode well for the hellidays at mom’s house with dad’s faction and sis’s friends’ faction all present.
Already dreading it because this monstrosity of a dollhouse mom got my kid is like 4 feet tall and taking days and two people to assemble and we’re not even sure how to haul the damn thing home outside of dad bringing a truck into town and they bring the SUV for Christmas so my kid will have a toy at grandma’s she can’t get home til after Christmas…and Spook has already been on the warpath because I told her Santa couldn’t afford any Pokemon stuff cos she wanted a tablet and those cost a lot of money….so she had a melt down and started screaming and bawling about how I probably got her dollar store junk that breaks so easy and she hates me and I am the worse mom ever….last night’s battle was over her wearing her ‘favorite’ pajama shirt to school when it has stains on it. I finally relented because I wasn’t going to get peace otherwise and maybe that is my downfall, but I also told her when the kids tease her and the school turns me in for not providing my kid with unstained clothing, I hope she enjoys reaping what she has sewn. I may suck at folding and putting away laundry, but that child NEVER goes without clean, unstained clothes.
That’s pretty much been my entire week, her tantrums, R’s lack of respect, now Kenny making me feel shitty for using a dryer that isn’t his, isn’t on his property, and won’t affect the amount he pays to live here, anyway, because I already told R about not raising his rent simply because he doesn’t have time to fix my dryer. He was supposed to do it last weekend but oh, stuff came up. Yet the other night he was off to fix a neighbor’s washer cos wifey asked him to. I’VE BEEN WAITING SIX WEEKS FOR MY DRYER TO GET FIXED!!!! If this doesn’t help with my decision whether to burn this bridge to the ground, nothing will. I am at the bottom of the food chain and no amount of hoops I jump through will change this. He is who he is and frankly, it’s oppressive and dragging me down.
I have to break up with his shop and since I know that displeasing him comes with backlash, it will mean the end of the friendship, thus I’ll be breaking up with Mrs. R, too, and I really, really like her. But..I can’t live 7 days a week waking with panic attacks because this man is running himself into the ground and expects me to go along with him. It’s unhealthy. I’d be better off waiting tables or washing dishes. Then I’d know the boss would respect me enough not to call after 9 p.m. and oh, I’d be making minimum wage instead of waiting for this elusive promise of a car which isn’t even necessarily the car I want.
Sounds so simple.
Doing it gracefully….not so simple. Last time I told him I wasn’t up to doing his shop bidding he went off, told me he was carrying me, and that I needed to stand on my own two feet. We didn’t speak for 5 months.
I hate burning bridges but some people leave you no choice. I will attempt to do it in a semi professional manner with a resignation letter utizling positive words and emphasizing no ill will. What he does after that is out of my hands.
Now…to work up the nerve to do it. Man, one thing the counselors could have taught me was how to handle confrontation gracefully. I suck at that.
But then, when everything always ends up being blamed on you and your wrong perceptions, every single time….You start viewing it mathmatically. If you have a problem with 99% of the people you encounter the only common denominator is you, so you must be the only problem. YOU suck.
Except sometimes…it’s not me. And sometimes, it’s a little me and a lot of others. I have no problem owning my faults but when I am trying to be honorable, respectful, and honest and it bites me on the ass because someone else has a personality disorder…
Hard to have faith in the goodness of people when they keep proving you wrong.