TerryJ2
Well-Known Member
difficult child has been home every night, and has gone to school. Um, sort of.
Sunday, his ex, D, was here. He bugged me to take him to the grocery store. I re-injured my leg and was exhausted. No. So he tried to negotiate for the car. No. He even put his cigs on the counter as proof he wouldn't smoke in the car. (Only one pack left!) No. Please, just take me ... I worked on gathering papers for taxes. After an hour, I caved. He was in the driver's seat, while I brought a pile of folders and tax stuff in the car to work on.
Less than 10 min. He gets back in car.
"What did you buy?"
Shrugs his shoulders. I see his hand in his pocket.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Right."
D is in the back seat, her nose in her iphone.
Later that night, midnight or so, I go to take my medications. Refilled Xanax on the 7th. 30 pills. I count 20. Recount. 20+1/2. Recount. Do the math. 7,8,9,10,11,12. Six days. That should be six, or less, since I bite them in half. If I take them at all. But I know I took whole ones three nights in a row. I've gone for yrs hardly using them, but the last 3 mo's have been hell. And I was missing a lot last mo, too. Recount.
Try to fall asleep.
Recall: Grocery store. Rushing. Won't tell me what he bought.
He sold my medications.
Fall asleep with-heart pounding around 3 a.m.
Next day, 12 hrs later:
difficult child drives up with-girlfriend, H.
Gets out of car, smiling. "Hi!" he waves.
I am sitting on a bench, in pain with-my leg.
"Have a seat."
"I know what you did at the grocery store. You didn't buy anything."
"What?"
"You sold something."
"No I didn't. I bought a phone. You can ask D. She was there."
"She was in the car with me."
"No she wasn't. She was in the store with me. You can ask her."
He runs into house, I hobble after him. He's got a new phone. Cheap. Not activated.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I thought you'd get mad."
"Where's the pkg?"
"In the trash right outside the door of the grocery store."
At this point, I am lying on the floor, massaging my hamstring.
(How much of this stress is psycho-physical-whatever?)
"I was going to buy you a basic text and talk, but--"
"Don't get rid of my old phone! It has pictures of H! And my games! And I need the information on it!" He ramps up and up and up and I can see it's too late.
KABOOM
Yelling, screaming, F-this, sh-- that, ffffff, spitting in my face.
"You can ask D! She was in there with me!"
"NO, she was in the car with me."
"No, she was with me. I had to talk to the manager because they didn't have the phone I'd picked out and I got this cheap one instead."
"No, she was in the car with me." Gaslighting ....
He explodes and whales the phone onto the parquet floor. The phone flies apart.
"SHE WAS IN THERE WITH ME. YOU ARE TOO FORGETFUL! GET SOME HELP!"
I limp out of the house, crying. H opens the car door, and I call to her.
"Help me. I just need a witness. He is verbally abusive and I can't take this any more."
difficult child comes flying out, spewing the f-word. H puts her hand on his mouth and her other hand on my shoulder.
"I can see you are afraid. You're trembling," she says. "Go. I'll take care of this."
difficult child is about 10 ft away.
I whisper, "You know he's on medication, right?"
"Yes, I do."
"I'm leaving and never coming back!" he screams. "I mean it this time!"
I nod, go into the house, then leave for a massage. (Coincidentally, but great timing.)
On the way, I call D's mom and ask to speak with-D.
"Did you go inside the grocery store yesterday?"
"Yes."
"Did difficult child buy a phone?"
"I don't know. I was looking at candy."
"Were there any other friends that he talked to?"
"No, I didn't see any."
She went in with him. Okay. Deep breath. I was fretting about taxes. I hate taxes. I keep losing things. Including my mind.
After the massage, I go to the grocery store and ask if they sell phones. Not a phone in sight.
"Yes, but we sold the last one the other day."
"Yesterday?"
"Yes, come to think of it. There was just one left, and the manager had to get it from the back."
"How much?"
"About $35."
He only had $25 on the gift card and I know he spent most of it.
Where did the money come from? What did he sell? Pawn?
The next night, they are both at my house.
"Where did you get the extra money to buy the phone?"
"D gave it to me."
She's sitting right there.
Is she covering for him?
Geez. She's sick of him using her phone all the time. And, like him, she doesn't think to save the money or to use it for healthy food. She buys candy and electronics. She's 16, after all.
She is so dependent upon him it's sick. She is so in love. And he is so unfeeling about other people's feelings. No theory of mind at all. He left the house that night to spend an hour with his new girlfriend, H, and left D at our house.
"That's weird. That's not right. How can you DO that? If I were D, I would have strangled you by now."
He shrugged his shoulders.
Pathetic.
I apologized for accusing him. I told him that his behavior has caused me to mistrust him and that it is going to take a long time to regain that trust. And that lying on his part makes it worse.
He doesn't see that.
He's mad because I involved H.
He's mad because I dissed him in front of her. Hey, I just dissed him.
He's GOT to get out of that mindset. It's cultural with-his gang/pothead pals, but it's also almost sociopathic--totally narcissistic.
I called easy child and explained the situation.
(husband does NOT know about the medications ...my doubts ...)
"I think it's a little bit of each," she said. "You are forgetful, and you've been more forgetful lately. But he has been stealing. And his reaction was totally overboard. But maybe it's the bipolar.Or he's having trouble coming down from the high from last week. I can see both. I think it's stress on both parts."
I have an appointment with a therapist on Thursday. I hope she writes me a prescription for a 2-month vacation in the lavender fields of Provence.
I wish difficult child would go to therapy.
I walked outside around 11:30 today. H's car was in the driveway! She and difficult child were there.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm coming home for the rest of the day," difficult child said.
H asks me how I am, I thank her. She says, "Anything I can do ... "
And now I have her phone number.
Inside, difficult child told me that last night tore him up. He said he couldn't deal with people today. He is outside walking.
I wanted to say, "You reap what you sow." But of course, I didn't.
Sunday, his ex, D, was here. He bugged me to take him to the grocery store. I re-injured my leg and was exhausted. No. So he tried to negotiate for the car. No. He even put his cigs on the counter as proof he wouldn't smoke in the car. (Only one pack left!) No. Please, just take me ... I worked on gathering papers for taxes. After an hour, I caved. He was in the driver's seat, while I brought a pile of folders and tax stuff in the car to work on.
Less than 10 min. He gets back in car.
"What did you buy?"
Shrugs his shoulders. I see his hand in his pocket.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Right."
D is in the back seat, her nose in her iphone.
Later that night, midnight or so, I go to take my medications. Refilled Xanax on the 7th. 30 pills. I count 20. Recount. 20+1/2. Recount. Do the math. 7,8,9,10,11,12. Six days. That should be six, or less, since I bite them in half. If I take them at all. But I know I took whole ones three nights in a row. I've gone for yrs hardly using them, but the last 3 mo's have been hell. And I was missing a lot last mo, too. Recount.
Try to fall asleep.
Recall: Grocery store. Rushing. Won't tell me what he bought.
He sold my medications.
Fall asleep with-heart pounding around 3 a.m.
Next day, 12 hrs later:
difficult child drives up with-girlfriend, H.
Gets out of car, smiling. "Hi!" he waves.
I am sitting on a bench, in pain with-my leg.
"Have a seat."
"I know what you did at the grocery store. You didn't buy anything."
"What?"
"You sold something."
"No I didn't. I bought a phone. You can ask D. She was there."
"She was in the car with me."
"No she wasn't. She was in the store with me. You can ask her."
He runs into house, I hobble after him. He's got a new phone. Cheap. Not activated.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I thought you'd get mad."
"Where's the pkg?"
"In the trash right outside the door of the grocery store."
At this point, I am lying on the floor, massaging my hamstring.
(How much of this stress is psycho-physical-whatever?)
"I was going to buy you a basic text and talk, but--"
"Don't get rid of my old phone! It has pictures of H! And my games! And I need the information on it!" He ramps up and up and up and I can see it's too late.
KABOOM
Yelling, screaming, F-this, sh-- that, ffffff, spitting in my face.
"You can ask D! She was in there with me!"
"NO, she was in the car with me."
"No, she was with me. I had to talk to the manager because they didn't have the phone I'd picked out and I got this cheap one instead."
"No, she was in the car with me." Gaslighting ....
He explodes and whales the phone onto the parquet floor. The phone flies apart.
"SHE WAS IN THERE WITH ME. YOU ARE TOO FORGETFUL! GET SOME HELP!"
I limp out of the house, crying. H opens the car door, and I call to her.
"Help me. I just need a witness. He is verbally abusive and I can't take this any more."
difficult child comes flying out, spewing the f-word. H puts her hand on his mouth and her other hand on my shoulder.
"I can see you are afraid. You're trembling," she says. "Go. I'll take care of this."
difficult child is about 10 ft away.
I whisper, "You know he's on medication, right?"
"Yes, I do."
"I'm leaving and never coming back!" he screams. "I mean it this time!"
I nod, go into the house, then leave for a massage. (Coincidentally, but great timing.)
On the way, I call D's mom and ask to speak with-D.
"Did you go inside the grocery store yesterday?"
"Yes."
"Did difficult child buy a phone?"
"I don't know. I was looking at candy."
"Were there any other friends that he talked to?"
"No, I didn't see any."
She went in with him. Okay. Deep breath. I was fretting about taxes. I hate taxes. I keep losing things. Including my mind.
After the massage, I go to the grocery store and ask if they sell phones. Not a phone in sight.
"Yes, but we sold the last one the other day."
"Yesterday?"
"Yes, come to think of it. There was just one left, and the manager had to get it from the back."
"How much?"
"About $35."
He only had $25 on the gift card and I know he spent most of it.
Where did the money come from? What did he sell? Pawn?
The next night, they are both at my house.
"Where did you get the extra money to buy the phone?"
"D gave it to me."
She's sitting right there.
Is she covering for him?
Geez. She's sick of him using her phone all the time. And, like him, she doesn't think to save the money or to use it for healthy food. She buys candy and electronics. She's 16, after all.
She is so dependent upon him it's sick. She is so in love. And he is so unfeeling about other people's feelings. No theory of mind at all. He left the house that night to spend an hour with his new girlfriend, H, and left D at our house.
"That's weird. That's not right. How can you DO that? If I were D, I would have strangled you by now."
He shrugged his shoulders.
Pathetic.
I apologized for accusing him. I told him that his behavior has caused me to mistrust him and that it is going to take a long time to regain that trust. And that lying on his part makes it worse.
He doesn't see that.
He's mad because I involved H.
He's mad because I dissed him in front of her. Hey, I just dissed him.
He's GOT to get out of that mindset. It's cultural with-his gang/pothead pals, but it's also almost sociopathic--totally narcissistic.
I called easy child and explained the situation.
(husband does NOT know about the medications ...my doubts ...)
"I think it's a little bit of each," she said. "You are forgetful, and you've been more forgetful lately. But he has been stealing. And his reaction was totally overboard. But maybe it's the bipolar.Or he's having trouble coming down from the high from last week. I can see both. I think it's stress on both parts."
I have an appointment with a therapist on Thursday. I hope she writes me a prescription for a 2-month vacation in the lavender fields of Provence.
I wish difficult child would go to therapy.
I walked outside around 11:30 today. H's car was in the driveway! She and difficult child were there.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm coming home for the rest of the day," difficult child said.
H asks me how I am, I thank her. She says, "Anything I can do ... "
And now I have her phone number.
Inside, difficult child told me that last night tore him up. He said he couldn't deal with people today. He is outside walking.
I wanted to say, "You reap what you sow." But of course, I didn't.