Weekend in Book Five: Working Through the Maze 2018

So, I am here to write a full entry. I have this feeling in the back of my mind that I’m being cavalier and/or simply forgetting important things about doing my job. A bad feeling when your job is Crime Fighting.

Saturday started out… fairly good? That may be a bit strong. Can’t find a better way of saying it. We went to marriage counseling… I’ve been mostly keeping Marriage Counseling close to the chest… I don’t want that process to heavily influenced by outside perspectives. But the counseling session seemed… good, bad, and good. Good: We got there ON TIME (Wife’s perpetual powers of tardiness are a bit of a sore spot for me). Bad: When we got there, Wife started talking (even though it was my day to discuss) and it ate up a sizeable portion of the beginning of counseling. Good: I got to talk about the things that may have formed my own perspective (good or bad) about relationships. Bad: Wife jumped in to “help me tell my story” a few too many times for my own liking. Good: The counselor summarized what she had been able to hear well. Bad: My “story” got to Junior High before time ran out and… I really think to see how I view relationships you have to hear about my Porn/Dad issues and my Sexual Assault and Violence background. Good: The counselor promised I could finish at next session. Bad: Before we left, she handed us a worksheet she’d like to cover next session… meaning, I really have to try to fit in the important bits of my story quickly next session.

Thing is… what we developed? My parents loved me, showed me affection, showed each other affection… I had good modeling there. BUT me constantly complaining about pain? That got to be too much for them. After all, I was a sickly baby and a sickly kid. The last thing they needed was me telling them about my physical pain all the time. So, they would treat my complaints of pain as simply trying to delay my bed time. Even though that pain was legitimate. Even though complaining about my pain also included complaining about the pain in my testicles. Which turned into a medical emergency wherein I almost lost both of my testicles to extreme testicular torsion. Therefore, when I had my first “sex dream” at an age where I didn’t know what sex was… and it was a rape dream… I didn’t ask my parents about it. I simply internalized. Accepting that if my mind dreamt of things like that… clearly I was a monster and something very evil lived inside of me. In other words what the counselor suggested was that (1) I think I’m a monster so I always put others first to ‘make up’ for the evil I perceive in myself; (2) I felt consistently unheard growing up from people I knew loved me, so it is something I’ve come to accept or expect in others. In short: why am I the actor that always tries to make people laugh? Because laughing is better than crying and if I can affect other people’s emotions, at least I can connect with them on some emotional level.

After that, we hung out with my parents. I have a golf outing with the local Bar Association so I needed to remember how to play. We went to a driving range and really hammered it. PART ONE of body pains and too much sun.

After that we went back to Mom and Dad’s and took the dog for a walk. Never wise but always happens, Dad brought up politics. I tried, again, to explain to him why I selected Hillary over Donald. I said (word for word) “Donald Trump is a madman that is only interested in his own interests and he’s unpredictable; Hillary Clinton is a shark that would destroy anyone in her way and is predictable. When selecting a chess player, select the person whose moves you can predict.” He was… considerably unswayed. Because he was so upset that I would vote for (his exact words) “an arch criminal who is responsible for more assassinations than any single country.” Ah. Okay. Thanks, Dad. Thank you for telling me exactly where you stand on that. That while you are not QAnon, you are willing to believe any batshit conspiracy that paints a Democrat as evil but will challenge any conspiracy that paints (to him) a “Christian” as corrupt. He was even willing to say, “The way I saw the 2016 election is… we had to choose between an Arch-Criminal and a Mad Man. And I believe in law, so I went with the Mad Man.” Grrrrrreeeeaaaat. I love how you believe in law but balk at the very suggestion that the government shouldn’t be beholden to a “Christian Faith.” I tried to, again, inform my father about things going on in the world that he doesn’t hear from Fox News… like the fact that White America tends to commit violence against Sikhs and Hindus when they are mad at Muslims. Dad scoffed saying that was stupid and those people should be ashamed. Then stated that the only religion that should be destroyed through violence was Muslims. Last ditch effort: At the year anniversary of Charlottesville, what did Dad think? His response, “Those left wing agitators shouldn’t have started that violence.” I scoffed and said I couldn’t believe he said that. He was quick to defend his stance claiming that the Neo Nazis only became violent after the counter protesters did. Which, while it is exactly what Fox News says and why the President said “Bad people on both sides” is not substantiated by the facts (see also BBC). The Alt Right White Power people were there to cause violence. They began the threats, intimidation, and (literally) surrounding people menacingly. To me, it is the same as “You can’t point a gun at my head and then say I started the violence if I stab you to get away.” Dad… hadn’t even looked into it. He just heard what he heard, accepted it as fact, and built beliefs and ideas based on that.

We got back home and I figured that was the end of it. But he mentioned that he gets so upset at people who think Global Warming is a hoax and he thought the dumbest thing he’d ever heard was Flat-Earther… though as soon as I said, “these people use the Bible to justify that belief” he knew the exact passage in Revelations that they use.

So, I decided to try to steer things into neutral territory. No Trump talk, lets talk about foreign cultures. I mentioned, “Something I’d really like to see in this country would be Japanese respect for space. Japanese schools don’t need custodians because the children clean the school out of respect and dignity.”

My dad’s response? Unexpected. “We need to teach black kids to get off their ass and go to work!”

WOAH! Seemed… like a bit of a non sequitur but tell me again how you feel, Dad.

I quietly excused myself from the living room, walked into the kitchen and whispered, “So Mom… how long has Dad been a racist?” She responded in the way she would. “He is and he isn’t.” Because she loves him. She told me that he is starting to resemble his grandmother a LOT. His father’s mother, according to my mother, would “say things that would curl your hair!” But not with hate or malice. Stated as though it were a fact and the only reason someone would argue against the “purely observable fact” would be because emotion and bleeding hearts were trying to do logistic gymnastics in order to be “PC.” So I explored a little. If my Dad, at 66, is starting to be more like his grandmother… what other things are we looking for?

Mom’s report: “I don’t know what it is exactly, but he feels like he’s owed something he never got. And that makes him angry. And it is easier to blame a large group of ‘outsiders’ than analyze and process why he might feel that way. We all know how much he hates gays, but I don’t think he feels that way about racial minorities. It is just… easier to think that black people are getting special treatment that he thinks he deserves. I don’t know. Maybe. I guess. The thing is he continues to refuse hearing aids and that isolates him. And the more isolated he gets, and the more he drinks, the more upset he is about whatever it is he didn’t get and the more he turns that to comments like you just heard.”

Wife even agrees with that when I re-phrased it for her.
Rephrase:
My Dad grew up in a mildly wealthy family and he followed in his father’s footsteps expecting to live the same kind of life. He didn’t. The business went under in the 1990s… “Fucking Clinton” despite the 1990s being significant economic boons. He went to work for one of his own former competitors and it was a miserable experience. They fired him because he refused to part with his ethics. Then one of their competitors hired him. He liked it there and retired. AS SOON AS HE RETIRES, his body starts falling apart… surgeries, detached retina, all that. Meanwhile, his little brother did NOT go into the family business. Took a chance at more education and went to Northwestern for a Masters in Business. Rose to become the head of a Fortune 500 business making $9.5 million per year. Retired at the age of 55. Dad loves his little brother and is very proud of him. But Dad does not like accessing his emotions! I think it would be fair to say that Dad lived expecting things to go one way and they didn’t. He feels cheated by that but doesn’t process his emotions to understand this. Then he looks at his brother and sees that life went way better for Little Brother despite not ‘falling in line.’ He feels angry by this but doesn’t process his emotions to understand this. In other words… Dad is not accessing his emotions and is struggling with the premise that life is fundamentally not fair. His faith in God and justice make him think life is SUPPOSED to be fair and if it isn’t it is because of the people that don’t agree with him on issues of “fairness.” Black Lives Matter, therefore, makes him racist.

Just my thoughts. Though, it is similar to far too many Trump Supporters. Life was supposed to go one way. It didn’t go that way. Now other people are saying “Life is supposed to go this way” and these people are pissed. Life didn’t turn out right for me, why the fuck do you think it should turn out right for you?! And what starts as a generalized anger over personal injustice is whipped up into a movement, an ideology, and a way of life. Look at the seed of a young KKK member. His Dad, an officer of the law doing a good job, was killed by a Black Street Thug. He grows up angry that a violent black person took away his father. Then he sees veritable armies of black people saying Cops are the Bad Guys, Cops are Violent and Killing Blacks. That gets him REALLY angry. The thought becomes “The same people that took my father from me are trying to play innocent?! Cops should kill them lest the Cop ends up dead like my Dad!” Then he finds someone else who is just as pissed off at Black Lives Matter as he is. They become friends. His friend tells him that Black Lives Matter isn’t just about anti-cop, but anti-white. He believes his friend because they are friends. His friend starts to show him how these (n-word)s are attacking white culture all over the place. He believes his friend because they are friends. His friend shows him places where BLM are acutely targeting White History, like in Charlottesville, and it becomes crystal clear. KKK, White Power is the only way to stay safe! Membership by degrees… 1 black person morphed into a black movement morphed into being against that black movement morphed into being against an entire race of people.

Then Sunday, Wife and did food shopping for an hour and then went to the Rick-Mobile event. Which was 3 to 4 hours of standing in line in the hot sun. To discover they had sold out of everything that I wanted. Wife picked up a shirt she likes (that I thought was stupid, but was wise enough not to say that.) Then the drive back to M Town to sleep.

I was dumb. I should have realized that with MY body… 9 hours of physical activity in the sun without water was going to absolutely TRASH my body! I slept through every alarm on Monday morning. I threw on clothes and raced out the door to work. Hour drive to work was PAINFUL! Sitting at work was EXCRUCIATING! I knew I couldn’t make it through the day. So I took some personal time and got in my car.

I could do one of two things.
(1) Drive back to Mtown, take a hot soak, maybe a nap in a lesser bed, play video games. or
(2) Drive back to Des Moines. Go get a shave/haircut/massage, take a long hot bubble bath, maybe a nap on the better bed, and watch cable TV until Wife came home.

Easy choice.

I called Wife to let her know that if she saw some dude in her bed when she got home from work, that dude was me. She… seemed rough. Tough day at work and she had a Psych Appointment to discuss if she needs something more than just ADHD help (yes, she does). They are looking into an anti-depressant with some anti-anxiety stuff. Conversation kept short since she was at lunch and I was driving.

I went to a place called “Lady Jane’s for Men.” The hook to it, it seems, is that they hire gorgeous women and gorgeous women only… and allow them to wear whatever they want provided it highlights their features. Like a “Twin Peaks” for hair cut. I went because they offer a haircut/shave for less than 50 bucks. While I was there I should have opted for the 15 minute neck/shoulder massage but.. I wasn’t sure if my current painful state would have made that SUPER GOOD or just SUPER BAD. Can’t remember the name of my stylist but she fit the bill. Short, cute, strawberry blond with a decent sized bosom. She was nice, but not too smart it seemed, but there was something magic in her hands. They were cold but not clammy and they smelled nice. Genuinely, the feel of her hands on my face… that was restorative. That was like touch therapy. Who knew I needed a cold handed white girl to touch me for me to feel good. Oh. I did. I knew that already. All the girls I dated had cold hands and touched me. Probably should have made sure that was true of my wife before getting married.

Though there is some irony to note. Let us pretend that I was not married or that I was, at least, looking to date. I could describe myself as being interested in the young woman. But even were I single or looking, I’d have never asked her for a phone number, a date, or even said, “What are you doing when your shift is over?” Because I was and am always the guy that thinks, “This is a woman working in a service industry where her take home is the product of tips. Any interaction taking place between the two of you is business-based. Even if she were flirting, it would not have been an indicator to ask her out… it would have been an indicator that she wanted tips.” So… yeah. ANOTHER reason why the single life isn’t exactly calling my name. Whereas former friends of mine had no trouble trying to pick up the waitress, stylist, bartender, stripper, etc.... I just… I don’t want to be “yet another jerk” that mistakes professional courtesy and desire for tips as an invitation to ask her out. Some would say, “Yet another way a man trying to be sensitive to ‘women’s culture’ demonstrates why those men don’t get dates.”

(Not my stylist, another stylist from the Lady Jane’s website)

After that restorative experience, I went to the WDM Apartment Club House and picked up two packages I was expecting. I now own a dice tower! Huzzah.

Then I got into a very hot bath for an hour trying to let the hot water loosen up my broken body. That helped a lot. After that, I got in bed trying to nap. That failed. I tried for an hour to nap and no sleep. Then Wife came home. Sobbing and crying. So my night went from “I’m trying to take care of my pain” to “Okay, I guess I’m taking care of Wife tonight.” She’s upset because her anti-depressants/anti-anxiety pills won’t be ready for a week, and she’s feeling bad about the job again, and re-thinking her life, and trying to figure out what she really wants to do with her life and… oh yeah… pretty much the exact same crying fit that she has a few times a year every year. Because she doesn’t know what she wants to do with her life and she’s getting older and she’s hating that she doesn’t know what she wants to do and she’s so scared of trying to anything and then she’s hating that she’s so scared and on and on. So that was my Monday night. Ultimately, I turned on Hannah Gadsby’s ‘Nanette’ in an attempt to find a comedy special to make Wife a bit happier. BOY WAS THAT THE WRONG THING TO PICK FOR a light happy uplifter. Ultimately, it was exactly what Wife needed… a comedy that also said, “Mental health issues exist, identity crises happen, but connecting with others and telling your story transcend!”

Then I drove back to Mtown. Got up this morning. Drove to work. Noticed that the things I had in place for today blew up.... which means more work to be done but later… as seems commonly the case here. Always more work, always more work to be done later. I serve the ball, they hit it back to me, I hit it back to them. This part is so much easier in court, where the ball can sail over the net almost instantaneously. Outside of the courtroom the whole process slows WAY down as the ball sails over the ‘net at a snail’s pace. Always work to do. Always later, though.

Wife texted me while I was in court. “Rough day” was all it said. I texted when I could to see if she needed me to call but she said if I did that she’d just start crying. I’m trying to remember that it is important to be supportive. But I can’t help but feel tired.

So… it was 4:00. I was looking at 30 more minutes of work before being able to leave. Wife calls me. Super duper panic attack. Crying. Freaking out. I’m trying to be supportive but… I’m also… kind of over it. Like… I can’t constantly let myself get wrapped up in her Permanent Panic about Progress of any kind… at some point, I need to lead my life and she can follow if she can. And I feel like a dick that way. I should support her and be there for her. But… I’m just… kind of tired of it. Like… after 13 years… I want to be done doing the emotional support. And I get her perspective. After 13 years, she wants to be done with feeling like this. I talked to her for a full half hour of her panicking and crying. She mentioned that she could hear disappointment in my voice but… it isn’t disappointment. I’m not disappointed that she hasn’t overcome her emotional issues. I’m just… I guess I’m not cut out to be the guy that dedicates his life to supporting someone else.

Now something ELSE to bring up in couple’s counseling. I should just write out a script or something to make sure things get said.

Last updated August 14, 2018