Saturday, February 5, 2011

A Hundred Billion Bottles

Yesterday morning Buzz Kill started yanking my chain.  It was typical Buzz Kill bullshit.  I asked him what his plans were for the painting project over the weekend, and he said he didn't know.  After five minutes of badgering, he finally said that he planned on being here at 8:00 in the morning both days and working for five or six hours.  We've played out similar scenes a million times - where he won't give me a straight answer even though he knows damn well exactly what he is going to do.  It's all about him and control.

Something inside me simply had enough of that bullshit yesterday.  I would say that I lost my shit - but it's more like I finally found it.  A scene ensued. At one point, he started to push past me to walk away, and I put my arm against his chest to stop him.  He cocked back his fist in a very threatening manner - but men often pull that maneuver, and I wasn't afraid he'd hit me at all.  I don't know what I said, but he backed off especially since Velvet was right there.  Then he started telling me to shut up and go to work over and over again.  We were both hostile and aggressive, and it was kind of scary because he stood over me, his face about six inches from mine saying whatever he said while he pushed me around with his stomach.  Like he was belly busting me or something.  That's when I realized that he treats me like that Israeli soldier treated that American girl when he crushed her to death with his bulldozer. I had something to say about it, and the next thing you know he locked himself in the bathroom.

It looks like all that anger I've been turning in onto myself finally got turned out onto Buzz Kill.

Until yesterday, I hadn't realized Buzz Kill, my grandfather, my uncle and The Narcissist were all bulldozers.  I always knew there must be some connection - but the image of a bulldozer crushing a protester pulled it all together for me. 

I haven't felt suicidal for an instant since I left the apartment yesterday morning.  When he came back yesterday afternoon, I told him I wanted to hire somebody to finish the job.  Now that he's done obsessively smearing joint compound over the walls like cake frosting and sanding it all to smithereens, the painting is not that big of a deal.  It shouldn't be more than a few hundred bucks, and I can afford that myself.

We'll see what tomorrow brings, but for the moment, it looks like everything is going to be okay.  Even though I'm still a little shaky, I'm pretty sure something has changed with my voice.  Years of therapy absolutely went into the process, but the support and encouragement I've found here in blogland have given my voice a hint of authority so that I'm not afraid to assert it anymore.  Not much anyway.

There's a difference between real life conversations and the way we touch each other on the blogs.   You take time to choose your words when you're writing in a way that rarely happens in the immediacy of conversation even when you're equally as honest and intimate.  You can also turn to your blog in the middle of the night when you would hesitate to disturb someone with a phone call.

I keep coming back to the concept of blog as message in a bottle like in the Police song:  I send an SOS to the world and thousands of bottles wash back on the shore.  The comments are like those bottles coming back to say, "You're not alone."  I'm hugely grateful, and overwhelmed, too, especially by the link Mad Priest put in his own blog.  He's done it before, a couple of years ago, and both times I have been humbled and astounded because people I will never, ever see in places where I'll never, ever go are suddenly thanking God for Trish.  Lots of people think there is no God, and the jury is still out on that question as far as I'm concerned - but theological and philosophical debates have no bearing on a human hand that reaches out to you, grabs on and holds so tightly for a crucial instant that you don't fall.  You can pull yourself up and tell those Bulldozers they can't crush you anymore.

Thanks, y'all.

16 comments:

Gail said...

HI TRISH-

I hate that you have to push back against the bulldozer. Im glad you did but very upset that you were in such a position of having to defend against harm. GET HIM OUT - COMPLETELY!! please, k?

Love you girl
Gail
peace......

verymissmary said...

come on over for a big salad

Liberality said...

What a bully he is. Acting even as if he might hit you is totally unacceptable. Men raising their voices in anger is unacceptable to me. Especially when they are doing it not to express their frustration with a process or whatever but in an attempt to manipulate you through fear. Get that asshole out of there as soon as you can like Gail asks.

PENolan said...

Y'all, he's not allowed back into my house right now. He was making noise about painting today, but I told him he could call me this afternoon to talk about hiring a painter. He can come over Sunday to tell the painter (if one of us can find one) what he's already done. The end for now. Things won't be over with Buzz Kill until we finally sell this apartment, and we have a ways to go before that's done.

That belly busting stuff was stupid and pathetic - kind of like a pigeon strutting his macho stuff. It was alarming because he's bigger than me and took me by surprise, but I imagine I handled it okay since he locked his self in the bathroom.

As much as I agree with Liberality that nobody should raise his/her voice in anger, I have complete confidence the women who live on either side of me heard every word I hollered. And even I would have to admit I hollered some deliberately mean and disrespectful things at Buzz Kill.

High time, too. The trouble is I've been saying outrageous things to Buzz Kill since before Velvet was born, and he never responds. Buzz Kill finally had a big reaction is all. I'm not defending him, I'm just saying he's not going to physically hurt me. More likely, he'd provoke me until I chased him with a knife and then he'd call the cops and try to have me committed.

I think I'll be avoiding him for a few days.

Thanks for being there

Lisa said...

You stood up to the bulldozer and sent him packing to the potty. That's some good stuff.

You're right about how the blogland operates in our lives if we invite it and let it. The encouragement I've received from people I might never meet face to face never ceases to blow me away.

xo

intelliwench said...

How scary and wonderful! You're my (s)hero! :-)

Vancouver Voyeur said...

Once you find your backbone, your voice, things will never go back to the way they were. Oh, he'll still try, out of habit, but come at him with all that power a couple of times and he will learn. I like the image of all those hands reaching out from cyberspace to help you. Very comforting.

okjimm said...

//He cocked back his fist in a very threatening manner - but men often pull that maneuver//

ah, not me... never. Even a simulated threat of violence is intolerable. Cut it all loose.

Even when I was going through a separation and the divorce...even when the moments got loud there was never a moment of implied, threatened, or simulated violence.

My ex and I get along just fine.... especially when she wants her rose bushes trimmed. We learned that it takes two to have a good divorce. If he will not cooperate, forget about it!!!!

mac said...

When I started dating my ex, all those years ago, she confided in me that "All men hit if pushed far enough"
I think through 15 years of marriage and a couple years of divorced bliss, she has found that all men do NOT hit.

A boy might, an asshole probably, but this man would not, could not...my Mama would kick my ass ;-)

I think that bulldozer met a tank yesterday. I am proud you let it out. Holding back isn't good for you.


I won't pray for you. But, I will send good vibes with all my might :-)

Steph said...

Good for you. I read your blog the other day and am glad you realize that suicide is for pussy's. In the few months I've been a follower, you've never struck me as such.

We live for people and in some cases in spite of them. Buzz kill would fall in to the latter of those categories. He's a douche and needs to be reminded of it as often as possible. As far as Velvet goes, I grew up with a bunch of screaming and ZERO support from my parents. He at least knows you love him and will be alright.

Susan Tiner said...

That sounds scary, but I'm glad to hear you held your ground and that he's not allowed back.

Progress!

PENolan said...

Thanks, friends. I'm feeling better by the minute because of all your hands across cyberspace.

I'm happy to say that the Ground Crew, which is how I'm thinking of my friends here in Real Life, have been taking care of me this weekend. Phone calls, quick visits and free Off-Off Broadway theatre (which is my most favorite kind).

Jennifer said...

Yay you. He really has no business being in your home, it doesn't matter what his ownership in it is. If he does NEED to be there, then he needs to make an appointment so you can be away.

Really glad to hear this.

Oh, and blogland needs you.

elle said...

Little man with big anger and no power, wants someone to push around. He just lost his only advantage. I'm glad, but be aware that he's going to be PISSED.

- dissed

PENolan said...

dissed - for now, he's being respectful and keeping his distance. I'm expecting more trouble when we start talking money during the last week of February

Jennyablue said...

Hey Woman, When you live out loud know I am listening. I wish you a speedy end to this project, so the distance can grow between you and buzzkill. You deserve peace of mind, away from his distruction and abuse. xo, Jenny

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