no_hypocrisy
no_hypocrisy's JournalI've seen this movie before, in a microcosm.
I wanted to go to law school. I didn't have the money and would have qualified for a scholarship.
But my father told me that, no, he wanted to pay for my tuition with no expectation of a loan.
I took him at his word. I relied on him and didn't apply for a scholarship.
I studied for the LSATs in 6 weeks and made a respectable score on the first try. Three weeks later, I was admitted to law school.
Three weeks before the beginning of school, things changed.
I was working as a medical assistant at my father's doctor's office. And there was an internal squabble among coworkers which didn't involve me at all. My father was unable to address the strife and looked for a scapegoat: ME.
He insisted that I join him for dinner in a restaurant where he concocted a fable that because of me, half his staff was going to quit. And because they were going to quit, he was going to prematurely retire. And because he was going to prematurely retire, no money for tuition for law school. And how'd you like them apples?
He was expecting me to believe him. He was expecting me to break down in a public restaurant and humiliate myself. He was expecting me to beg him to reconsider. He was expecting me to return to the doctor's office and "fix it".
None of the above.
Like Tom Cruise in Risky Business, it was "You know, Bill, there's one thing I learned in all my years. Sometimes you just gotta say, 'What the fuck, make your move.'" So I leaned back in my chair, took a sip of wine, looked him in the eye, and told him, "Well, I guess that's entirely up to you."
Immediately deflated, he murmured, "Damned right."
We separately left the restaurant.
I waited two weeks and he called me to pick up the tuition check.
That's how you do it.
I see fascism as a macrocosm for my dysfunctional family.
My father was an authoritarian. It wasn't enough that he wanted to control me, my siblings, and his wife/our mother.
He wanted us to think like him, accept his values imposed upon us. To relinquish thoughts of self-realization.
One particular period in January, 1996
I was an overnight operator for an answering service.
I heard the snow precipitation was going to be bad, so I brought meals for Sunday, Monday, and potentially Tuesday.
I arrived at 7 p.m. and it wasn't flurries. It was snow.
Just in case, I brought my snow shovel, as you just don't know.
And it snowed all through Sunday. And Monday. And Tuesday.
And I was alone, to answer all the calls for doctors, lawyers, apartment complexes, etc.
Fortunately, I had heat, cable TV, a microwave, and a toilet that flushed.
I looked out on the parking lot Monday afternoon. The asshole plower pushed all the snow against my car -- and it reached the roof.
By Monday night, I had suffered a severe case of vomiting and didn't feel like digging out my car, let alone answering the phones. (BTW, you wouldn't believe how many people called to see if their doctors' offices were open during a blizzard.)
Tuesday morning and no replacement operators. The Governor had closed the public roads. I wasn't going anywhere. The vomiting had stopped and I went out to dig out my car. Never missed a call too.
So, I later got my numbers to explain my experience. 32 inches of snow and I handled 10,000 calls for 2-1/2 days.
Monday afternoon, my replacement arrived. I slowly started for home.
The roads sucked and the plows left maybe 1/2 inch of ice and snow on the surface. I lived only 5 miles away but it took 45 minutes to get home. And guess what?
No on-the-street parking. The available spaces had 24+ inches of heavy snow. So, once again, I pulled out my snow shovel and made a niche to park my car.
I dragged my ass up two flights of stairs to my apartment. I liken it to Scarlett making her way to Tara.
The bedsheets felt warm and soft.
I didn't leave my bed for 10+ hours.
About Nick Reiner
I understand too well about dysfunctional family dynamics like this situation.
My friend was 77 when this happened. He's struggling due to a head-on car collision six years ago. He was nearly medically decapitated and had to have surgery to re-attach his head to his cervical spine (neck) with rods.
His son was 45 and living with my friend and his wife due to the collapse of his second marriage. And an alcoholic. Went to rehab at least twice on my friend's limited funds and left both times against advice. He's still drinking. (My friend has found those airplane bottles of booze scattered around his bedroom.)
Early April, my friend suffered 2-3 days of violent nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea b/c his son gave him food that was left out in his car for 12+ hours (food poisoning). Weakened, my friend struggled to recover.
And without warning, in a drunken rage, his son attacked him in their home. A Half-Nelson on the vulnerable neck. And the son called his aunt and blathered that he was going to smash his father's face. And then returned to hit his father with a baseball bat, breaking four ribs.
Now, mind you that my friend has financed his son throughout his life. Paid for two failed weddings and marriages. Paid to restore a purchased home that was essentially made of balsa wood with his own funds. Hasn't asked for rent or a contribution for utilities, etc.
And despite what happened in April, the son continues to live with my friend and his wife.
And I fear for my friend's safety and life as attacks like this are rarely isolated and will be repeated in the future.
Understanding Reactive Abuse: Signs and Solutions
This is a big issue for me.
For years, my parents and my sister verbally, emotionally, and psychologically abused me. And years thereafter, I became hypervigilant, ready for a fight where it wasn't always necessary.
Please read this article. I solved my own problem by listening until "they" stopped, quickly analyzed that I was being provoked, and not to give them what they wanted. My MO was not to engage. So far, so good.
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The Dynamics of Reactive Abuse
If someone is being physically or verbally abused, their fight-or-flight response might kick in, to help them protect themselves. If they are unable to flee, they might fight back against their abuser by attacking them physically or verbally. They may resort to yelling, screaming, insulting, or even assaulting their abuser.
Self-Defense Is a More Accurate Term
It’s important to understand that someone who has to resort to reactive abuse is not the instigator. Rather, they are a victim who is reacting to being abused.
The term “reactive abuse” can therefore be problematic, because it labels the victim as an abuser. A more accurate term to describe this behavior is “self-defense.”
Unfortunately, reactive abuse often works against the victim of abuse, because their abuser may use it as leverage against them.
Once the victim of abuse responds this way, the perpetrator often claims that the abuse is mutual, says Connors. In some cases, the abuser might even claim to be the wounded party and try to use these instances as proof that they have been abused, instead of the other way around.
Perpetrators may use these manipulation tactics as a way to justify their abuse, control their victims, and keep them from leaving or speaking about the abuse, Connors explains.
-more-
https://www.verywellmind.com/reactive-abuse-signs-impact-and-tips-to-break-the-cycle-7567483#toc-recognizing-the-signs-of-reactive-abuse
My 78 year old friend is in peril.
Married for 50+ years to a woman who's dedicated herself to cruelty against him. Constantly yelling and browbeating and haranguing against him. Initially, he was a battered spouse, but he thought all he needed to do was to avoid her when she had her tirades (which included throwing knives at him.)
She has gone behind his back and forged his name on home equity loans and then refused to pay them (not even the interest), imperiling foreclosure. Has used his birthdate and SS number to set up online access to his bank account to siphon money from him (again without his consent and/or knowledge).
And now she's conspired with doctors to find a medical basis to claim that he has dementia. (He doesn't.) She wants it all, meaning she wants to declare him incompetent, institutionalize him, and then sell their home and keep (and spend) all the money.
She's worn him down to the point where he doesn't argue with her. He's tired; he's afraid of her. But he won't leave her. Not because of love. But because of years of mental erosion. He's at his breaking point, and he might indeed give her a documented incident to allow her to declare him mentally incompetent.
She has their adult children working in concert with her. And he knows it. Imagine being elderly and knowing those supposedly closest to you are conspiring to take you down.
I contacted Adult Special Services and explained everything, but they insist that their hands are tied until HE personally makes a complaint. And yes, he has two "safe houses" he can retreat to, but he remains in a home none of us would consider residing in for five minutes.
Any ideas please? I'm quite concerned.
Impending Government Shutdown
This reminds me of the scam my father (!) ran on me when I wanted to attend law school.
I didn't have the money for tuition, so I intended to apply for a scholarship and I would have been granted one.
But my father told me not to get the scholarship, that he would pay for everything including books, etc.
As it was my father, I relied on his promise.
But it didn't happen that way.
I was working at his office and there was an inter-office scuffle between co-workers. I wanted nothing to do with it and flew under the radar -- or so I thought.
Three weeks before law school started, my father insisted that I go out to dinner with him. From past experience, this wasn't going to be good. The MO was to drop something bad on me in a public venue.
And so I went. There was thick tension in the air. And my father dropped the bomb. He claimed I was the impetus behind the office scuffle, and therefore he was forced to consider premature retirement. And premature retirement meant no funds for law school. Obviously, that meant no law school for me.
I saw through the charade. I was blameless for his office politics. He wanted to punish someone, and it was me. He expected a meltdown with my expected indignation and outrage. I wasn't going to give him what he wanted. I had enough.
I figured, OK, no law school this year; I'd apply for a scholarship for the next year.
Let's say the meal ended with FAFO. I amiably agreed that was his prerogative. He wasn't expecting that and I think that made him angrier.
The parallels between the prospective shutdown and my father are this:
1. Past federal funding to states was reliable and they set their budgets with the expected money. Not necessarily this time. I relied on my father for the tuition; he withdrew it; and it was used as a weapon against me.
2. TSF is going to make Democrats and the states the scapegoat just like my father tried to make me the reason why he wasn't going to fund my law school tuition after I didn't apply for other funding and I relied upon his promise.
Postscript: This stuff from TSF and his republican accomplices is giving me PTSD.
When I was in high school 50 years ago, there were kids who "followed Jesus".
They were influenced by Jesus Christ Superstar and Godspell. They had their Mustard Seed Coffee Houses. They went to church and read the Bible. Carried big Bibles to class. Probably more pious than their parents.
They were the "Jesus Freaks".
They were different than the kids who follow Charlie Kirk.
JF's preached and lived Love and Peace and stuff. Jesus even looked like the guys. Religious hippies. No hate. No anger. No desire to take over the constitutional United States.
I'm an atheist. Bring back the Jesus Freaks.
On a microcosm level, that's the MO my father took.
My father was a malignant narcissist.
He targeted me, criticized me, punished me, threatened me, etc. because I was "on" to him. He couldn't gaslight and fool me, and he knew I knew.
He went after me to send a signal to my mother, my sister, and my brother not to challenge him. He was in charge, and we weren't free to criticize where it was warranted. (Dad didn't have good judgment.)
While Dad is dead, my sister has taken on his role to keep me in my place. Except I haven't let her. She doesn't have the economic power, familial power, the psychological power to do that. I stood up to our father and I stand up to her.
My Mother
My mother was an interesting combination of being a narcissist, an enabler of a narcissist, and a scapegoat of a narcissist.
The narcissist was my father. Meaning that I was raised by a pair of narcissists.
But today, I wish to focus on my father's treatment of my mother, his wife.
I witnessed it all. The more money my father attained and the higher his social status rose, the more narcissistic and authoritarian he became.
And he married my mother partly because of her elevated academic pedigree. Not only did she graduate EARLY from Erasmus Hall High School in Brooklyn (a big deal), she had her undergraduate degree from Barnard College and her master's degree from Wellesley by 1950. That made her a desirable mate for a future physician society-wise.
But unexpected consequences: she could not only match wits with my father, but my mother often could win arguments with him. That's not what makes a narcissist happy. So, there were consistent powerplays in my household.
My mother wanted to work outside the house. My father forbid it. And my mother wasn't a "happy housewife". Or a mother. She did it because, despite having a maid as a constant in our house, it was overwhelming, especially to my father's satisfaction.
I believe the straw that broke the camel's back for my mother was my father interfered with her few but close friendships she had with other disaffected and educated women. He used a bad business deal with his close friend to sever ties with him. Unfortunately, that friend was married to my mother's close friend. And the women were forbidden to socialize with each other. Sort of like Fred Flintstone telling his wife, Wilma, that she could no longer be friends with Betty Rubble. That kind of stupid. Another instance decades later: my mother was friends with a divorced woman who was a close golf buddy. The friend was outspoken, bawdy, and loved a good strong drink. My father couldn't stand her. And again, the friend was banished from my mother's life, leaving her lonely and frustrated.
My point of this essay was the authoritarian control my father yielded over my mother. And no wonder my father went after me when I exercised even a modicum of independence, even as a child. He couldn't let me get away with something he denied to my mother.
Back to my mother's friends. My father couldn't abide with women who were encouraging my mother to get out under my father's thumb. They had to go.
And in my case, I couldn't turn to my mother when my father turned his ire on me.
Postscript: the first friend of my mother cared a lot about me. She could see my father's excessive interest in controlling me. I was 12 when I no longer was associated with her. In 2001, she passed away. I went alone to her church service. (My mother didn't even go.) Afterwards, her neighbor took me aside and confided that my would-be mentor spent years after the break, inquiring about me and my siblings to see if we "were alright". Because of my father. This still brings tears to my eyes. I'm certain my mother suffered more than I did.
Some (not all) men dedicate their marriages to destroying the women they married.
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