That Ugly Power and Control Gene

I shared a post on FB of the cover of the latest New Yorker mag. It’s a very unflattering caricature of the Cheetoman, hitting golf balls at the White House, breaking windows. It’s pretty funny. Someone commented that he is such an “unqualified” public servant. I replied, “he’s not a public servant, he’s a public nuisance.” Seriously……he only serves himself. Jimmy Kimmel had a video up from his show where he shows how the tweeter-in-chief has a habit of moving things when he sits down. At dinner, at his desk, or coffee table, at a conference…what ever. I think my ex used to do that a lot, especially when he was trying to show that he was working. Control issues, both of them. Gotta re-arrange the table setting to show it’s never right.

Then I saw a video, on FB, of Cheetoman in a ceremony to sign a bill, with everyone there, and then he walked out of the room without signing it. He thanked everyone, said we’d see some immediate changes, and then left the room. Pence tried to get him to come back, and DJT told him to bring the bill with him. He’s starting to lose his shit, really. It’s wild, but kind of scary to see someone in that position who is seriously losinig it.

Every day, there is more stuff about this mans inability to deal with his job. After dealing with my ex last week so much, I can’t really watch him much because I swear, he even looks like my ex. Same facial expressions, when I know he was trying to fool everyone that he actually had a clue what was going on, but didn’t. I really hate to listen to him. So most of the videos I just watch and shut the sound off.

It’s scary really, when someone is so hell-bent on power and control that they will lose everything, like my ex did. But to see that same personality type….with their fingers on the nuclear codes….and randomly tweeting in the middle of the night, constantly disrespecting our allies. Crazy scary shit.

I learned a lot about power and control when I left my marriage. I had no idea what had happened to me until I was in an online community for abuser survivors. Then, I found Brene Brown, among others, but it was her TED talk on vulnerability that really broke it down for me. I wonder if the orange one’s father berated and belittled him his whole life, like my ex did my son. Like my father-in-law did to my ex. And all of tRumps wealth and running for a job for which he is clearly unqualified, to say the least, was to prove to his father he was worthy. And I bet he’s still not. This is just random musing on my part, but he sure fits the bill.

What I’ve learned is that these people never can change. They will go down with the ship. You can’t save someone hell bent for terror. I tried, I kept thinking that one day he’d snap out of it, one day he’d see what he was doing. but he just consistently became more deeply imbedded in it. My ex would rather have lost everything than admit being abusive. The stories he makes up now, I just have to pick my jaw up off the floor. I gave up a long time ago setting his record straight. It only creates an argument to tell him, for example, that he had 16 years with our son, not just 6 or 7. He made up this outlandish statement to try to explain why his son wouldn’t talk to him, rather than face that fact that he was horribly abusive to him. Just made up a story, that he can tell people, so he’s not at fault, so he doesn’t have to face the shame.  I am so glad I had my moment of realization that he was never going to be able to change, and was never going to allow my family to live a normal life, and moved on.  Because, look at the life I have now.  It was worth 4 years in court, to salvage the rest of my life.  It was even more worthwhile, to see how well my son is doing, because I gave him a chance to see a different way of living.  Not in fear but in love.

DJT too, just tries to cover one lie with another. He’s a bully, to hide his own fear rather than face it.

Well, it’s whatever. I guess I’m a little retrospective today. That power and control gene is a tough one.

I have a nice day planned. Going out to the “Frankie and Johnny” show tonight to hear my good friend sing. Might even put a dress on for it, lol. It’s a beautiful day today, 80° and sunny. I probably need to do some baking for my son in the next day or two. And maybe for our new writer’s group. That should be fun. Think I’ll take a nap this afternoon too. I was up in the middle of the night again last night, and finally took an Ambien. I guess I got some sleep. You know those nights when you wake up and you don’t think you’ve been asleep, but the clock shows the passage of hours….That was me. I don’t want to be falling asleep at the show tonight.

Love and light everyone.

Accepting What Is

Outside again before the sun was up today.  Everything still wet from last night’s much needed rain, the sky was streaked with gray clouds in the darkness.  One tiny crack in the gray gave way to dawn’s first light. It is still, except for the faintest breeze.  The air is chill, I sit, wrapped in a blanket.

I closed my eyes in the dark, choosing a meditation on Acceptance.  Because things are not as I want them, but they are ok, I need to shut down the incessant chatter of my monkey mind, and allow myself to see and accept and find joy in what is.

Oddly, though it was not my intention, choosing to focus on acceptance, to think about my ex-husband.  He is rarely in my thoughts anymore.  But, as it does in it’s own inimitable way, the universe reminded me that today is his last day in our old house.  The house was foreclosed on and he fought a crazy misdirected fight to remain in it once it was sold, which lasted about 6 months. He has lived there since 1978.  It was a small cape cod style home, exterior of stucco, roof of slate.  It sat on a rise, overlooking 125′ of lake front, on 3/4 of an acre of land.  The tallest tree on the lake is on that property, a tulip tree maybe 100′ or even 150′ tall.  The trunk so big that you couldn’t even put your arms 1/2, maybe not even 1/4 of the way around it.  I loved the orange tulips that grew on it every year.  You could see it from anywhere on the lake. A yard full of mountain laurel, and huge old rhododendrons.  It was once a beautiful place, but has fallen into complete disrepair.

But I digress.

In his belief that there was only lack in the world, he never had enough.  In his belief that he was not worthy of love and belonging, he was unable to accept or give love to anyone, in the end.  I spoke to him earlier this week.  He called me and left a voice mail, the night S was here.  Oddly, I  had driven by his business, of which I was an integral part for 30 years, earlier in the day, (after I found my car in the parking garage….) and seen a for sale sign on it, and it was closed.  I assumed that had something to do with his call.  He had sounded urgent, when he called, as if it was very important to both of us.  I know better.

But I called him.  He was calling because in the basement he said there was a box of stuff that was really mine, that was really water damaged.  Things like my high school diploma, books, pictures…. Did I want it?  It was so badly damaged that he didn’t know how I would salvage anything.  I told him, no, throw it out.  I haven’t looked at it in 30 years, at least, I won’t miss it.

This was not urgent.  I am surprised he would even ask.  I think the urgency in his voice mail came from somewhere else.  Perhaps, he just wanted my attention.  Perhaps, he wanted me to know that he’d finally given up the fight.

I asked him how he was doing, knowing that he is not equipped to deal with this move on any emotional level.  His things are how he identifies himself.  To say he had a house on the lake, was who he was.  To say he owned his own business, was who he was.  Now he has neither.  I am sure he has no idea who he is anymore.  He told me he’s taking it one day at a time.  I offered my assistance this weekend, to help him pack it up, to move it, to store things for him.  He politely declined my help, as I knew he would.

My son asked me to see if I could get his hockey stuff.  Hockey was a HUGE part of son’s life, the main focus, as he grew up.  He played from age 5 or 6 to 16. He was pretty good.  He quit, to be free of his father’s control.  He gave up a lot, something he really loved, for that freedom.  It was not until years after that he understood what his motivating force was.  But 3 weeks after he quit, he was living with me, having gone to school one day from his father’s and come home to my house.  He has been back one time for dinner in the 6 years since.

But he wanted his trophies, his jerseys, his autographs and any other memorabilia he has.  His father told me he could have them.  I offered to come over and pick them up.  His response was that it was all packed to go to his new place, and to get at it, he would have to unpack everything else.

Meaning, no…son can’t have it unless he asks his father himself, and comes to get it himself.  His last little string of control on my son.  My son has no relationship with his father at the moment, for a few years now.  Because his father, is his father.  He has made a small effort, at times, to make my son believe he has changed, and the minute my son felt comfortable with him, he would go back to being the controlling manipulative man he is.  He brings chaos to everyone’s life that he encounters.  It is mainly the chaos we both left, the never knowing what any day would bring us, never knowing if the earth might shift on its axis while we slept.

I asked him where he was going.  Since things were packed up to go to his “new” place.  He said, “Oh I’m not sure, I’m hoping for confirmation today.”  I wanted to say, “Really?  You have to be out of the house in 4 days and you don’t know where you are going?”  But I know better.  He doesn’t want me to know, and to question him will only bring me a whole huge circular conversation at the end of which the answer will still be that he doesn’t know.

So…today.  He will pack up the final load.  He will drive out of the driveway, to parts unknown.  My son and I will have no way to contact him (he hasn’t had a cell phone in years) or know where he is.  It is the way he likes it to be, so no one can find him, or know what he’s doing, or hold him accountable.

It just seems so strange, so odd, so unsettling I guess, to not know where he is.  I have known every day for the last 50 years almost, since we were 18, where he was, what he was up to, basically.  It’s not that I need to know, really, my emotion for him is only sadness.  But now, he is really on  his own, really by himself.  I have serious doubts that he has even told his sister, the only family he has outside of us, where he will be.

I can’t imagine living so solitary a life.  Isolating yourself so much from the world at large.  But I accept it, it is his journey to make, perhaps he needs to do this to find his true center.  I prefer to believe that.  I prefer to believe that he will, at some point, have the epiphany of all epiphanies, and find a glimmer of light.  I prefer not to think of him as living his life out separated from the world.

Acceptance.  This was not where I thought I was going to go with this.  I was looking to accept that I wasn’t seeing S this weekend, because he’s busy with his house, and perhaps still uneasy with me, and I was looking to make good use of the time, even though I’d rather have spent some time with him, trying to bridge the gap that I so stupidly put between us last week.  To be honest, even before that, although we talked regularly and intimately, we hadn’t seen much of each other. Maybe because I was always jumping the gun with him, always demanding more than he was able, or wanting, or free to give.  Kind of acting like a petulant child, I guess, not getting what they want.

Today, I may see some friends, maybe take a walk, maybe go to a farmer’s market.  Maybe not.  Maybe just stay home, work on my house, make some jewelry since I have use of my right hand again.  The day usually brings it’s own destiny, and I will practice accepting whatever it brings my way.

I guess the only way to make sense of chaos, is acceptance.  To let be what is.  Even if the path is strewn with obstacles, and difficult to see at times.  It is what it is.  To live like water is to find a way, to go with the flow.  There is only acceptance.