Nightmares

I really hate writing about negative crap, but the whole idea of this blog is to avoid paying some idiot hundreds of dollars to pretend to listen to me and and to pretend they give a shit. It does work writing about it, by the way, much better than anybody I’ve paid.

So here I find myself at 4am, after waking with a terrible nightmare at 3.15am, writing. I suffer from PTSD, although it raises it’s ugly head less and less these days, in fact, the last time I had anything much of consequence was a while ago now. I was surprised that through all the tumultuous life upending crap we went through last year with the sale of the last house, ( if you have only been following the blog for a short time, we have sold the previous house twice, the first time it all fell through 3 days before settlement, we were packed, ready to leave, and half an hour after we found out our furniture was due to be picked up by the removalists, and although the buyers had a binding contract, we are still fighting it out for compensation), I didn’t have any real PTSD stuff happen.

However, with the continued, and escalating arseholery of my father of recent weeks, I have had a beauty of a nightmare tonight. It’s like me, don’t do anything by half measure, do it properly. It started off with my father doing something very nasty, then lo-and-behold, guess who shows up? My ex. They joined forces. What a fucking lovely nightmare. 2 arseholes for the price of one. Double the nastiness.

Due to the renovations of the house, it’s become an open invitation for my father to walk in unannounced and uninvited any old time he wants. Not that we’ve invited him, HE’S seen it as an open invitation. He isn’t needed here for any of it, for the stuff we need tradesman for, they are on the case, they know more about what needs to be done than the know-it-all. And as for the other stuff, I do a far better job of it, and take a lot less time to do it, if he isn’t around. If he pokes his nose in, the job takes, conservatively, twice as long, and then there always ends up being the inevitable fuck up, because he insists on doing something a certain way that makes absolutely no sense, and has negative financial consequences. Because he is around, he is just giving us the opportunity to see just how big of an arsehole he really is.

Because we are no longer under the same roof, or even associating with him 24 hours a day, we are seeing just how bloody nasty he is. He can’t open his mouth without being a shithead. He’s what people call a troll on social media, and I see him do that too. I really don’t understand how someone can be such an arsehole. We do everything to make sure that we don’t argue with him, arguing with him is just pointless, it just gives him the opportunity to be even worse. I do think, however, another full tilt confrontation with him is on the cards, as it is all getting too much, and very obviously starting to have a negative impact on both my mothers, and my health again.

Anyhow, I doubt I will be going back to sleep again tonight, it’s rattled me, this nightmare, so much so that even now, 40 minutes after I started writing, it still is bothering me. May as well just swing into the day, at least if I need a sleep later, it’s not a school day today.

Andy.

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Feeling very unwell

On Friday night, I had to take my mum to the hospital. She had been extremely fatigued and in pain for most of the day, it came on quite suddenly when we had been in town during the morning. When we got home at midday, she went to bed, no lunch, just straight to bed. I too was feeling wiped out, and tried to sleep but after an hour, and a throbbing pain in my right leg, I gave up trying to sleep. I went and collected Jack from school at home time, and when I got back, Mum was still asleep.

I checked on her, she was restless but asleep, so I let her be. Then, at dinner, she was very lethargic, and my concern for her at this point was quite elevated. We had dinner, got ready to go to bed, and went to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I checked on Mum at 9pm, and she was breathing quite rapidly, you can really hear it when someone is using a CPAP machine. I said something to Dad, who seemed completely unconcerned. In fact, I have come to realise that he genuinely didn’t give a shit.

Anyhow, off we went, Mum, Jack and myself (because Dad didn’t give a shit), and spent the next 3 to 4 hours in the hospital emergency, where they did a variety of tests, including an ECG. Luckily, it wasn’t a heart attack, but it had all the hallmarks, instead it was the worst fibromyalgia flare up Mum has had yet. That’s the thing about Fibromyalgia, it can present symptoms of a heart attack.

We got home well past midnight, and Mum was off her head on Vallium and another pill they gave her at the hospital, and slept soundly until past 11 am on Saturday.  She was still not feeling great all day yesterday, but was noticeably better. Today she is almost back to normal.

So, now we get to Dad, and now knowing he doesn’t give two hoots about any of us, for sure.

Apart from his unconcern on Friday night, Saturday, seeing she HADN’T had a heart attack, he decided that it was game on again with all the nastiness. I found it very hard to stop myself from exploding at him, but did as mum had wanted, kept it together. Then came this morning, and I had had enough. So, I exploded. Jack was actually scared, and Mum and Jack both went to the room. I told him we knew he didn’t give a shit about us, how he was a nasty pig to everyone, and that I had had enough. He sat, completely unmoved, in his arrogant way. Surprisingly, he didn’t say a thing.

Mum, Jack and I left the house shortly after, as we had to get some prescriptions to be filled, and shopping to do. On the way into town, Mum told me that she was glad I said it.

When we got home, like the totally clueless fuckwit he is, he decided to be an arrogant pig again to Mum, but this time she found her voice. I haven’t spoken to him since this morning, and unless he starts being nasty to Mum, Jack or myself again, I won’t talk to him. I honestly don’t care if I never speak to him again.

Needless to say, I am now extremely unwell, I am having moments of dizziness, I am experiencing more and more intense pain as the hours go by, I feel ill in my stomach, and I have slept for most of the afternoon myself, even at one stage falling asleep without my CPAP machine, which I NEVER do. I’ve eaten dinner, but it wasn’t enjoyable. Right now, it is time for Jack to go to bed, as it is school tomorrow, and even though I have slept all afternoon, I don’t think it will be a problem to go back to sleep, as long as the pain doesn’t stop me.

I wish life would suddenly change. I wish luck would finally shine on Mum, Jack and I. I don’t know how bad it needs to get before things get better for us. I am still not depressed, I am just lost. It doesn’t come as a surprise when the next bit of bad stuff happens. I have always done nice things for everyone, I care about people. Why do we deserve this crap ?

Stress is my biggest enemy

I do everything to avoid stress, I hate it, I don’t like it, but most of all, I despise what it does to me. The past couple of months have been VERY stressful, parents marriage breakdown, my father prior to that being such a nasty person to me and everyone, and then after a brief lull in that behaviour, a recent ramping by him again, the drawn out sale of the house, dealing with government agencies on a few matters, just all too much.

I don’t like conflict either, ever since living my abusive ex 6 years ago, I have hated it anytime anyone decides to have a yelling match. It’s another thing I avoid at all costs. I just can’t deal with it. It brings back too many bad memories.

The toll of the recent stress and conflict has taken it’s toll on me. I try ever so hard not to let things get the better of me, it’s almost essential to try and keep some sort of lid on the effects it has on the fibromyalgia. I have been losing the battle for the past couple of weeks, so 2 mega flare ups, spurred on by the ever changing weather as well, pain everywhere, fatigue, mind fog to the maximum, it’s just crazy. I even trimmed my hair today and there is definitely more grey in the past month. I am looking more “distinguished”, as my Aunt puts it.

The past couple of days have seen the good old indigestion make a comeback, I haven’t suffered indigestion like this for about 3 years. Once again, stress. I lost 8 kilograms in 3 days when this all started with Dads little tantrum on Jack’s birthday. I have got a little of it back, but even though I feel like I have been a bit of a pig recently, it’s not showing on the scales.

It’s funny with the whole fatigue thing. I have sleep aponea, but sleep every night with a CPAP machine, and my readings are very good, so that isn’t causing the fatigue. I have been sleeping like a log every night for the past 2 weeks since having the Tramadol to control the pain again, I mean, sleeping all night, no toilet wakes or even stirring, and I go to bed at 8pm and get up at 7am, 11 hours sleep !!! But the fatigue, it’s so damned crushing by the time lunchtime hits. I have had to have sleep in the afternoon most afternoons this week, although, all it does is rests my body, but I wake up like I am drunk and confused. It is not a nice sensation.

Anyhow, tonight I am up later, and going to watch a few silly youtube videos with Jack before we go to bed, it’s Saturday night, so why not let our hair down !!!

Andy.

Making an arse of yourself because of the effect other people have on you.

I while back, in another blog I wrote, I wrote about how I have difficulty these days with other people, I have social anxiety. Now, I never used to have it, it is something that has developed from 14 years of abuse (but I will point out that I am finally able to admit that it was abuse for much longer), I used to be one of the most sociable people out there, you might have even called me a social butterfly. But now, anywhere where there are more than a couple of people it’s all over red rover for me. It’s not that I don’t like people, I like people, but when you have been denigrated by someone who is supposed to be a loved one (in my case 2), for such a long time, you become distrusting of people, and scared of them.

Now, although that last bit isn’t quite where I thought this would start, it is relevant in a way. I have been encountering an excessive number of incompetent and down right rude people over the past few days, as well as having to deal with the pig of a human that is my father, and the stress of it all, partly because they have deliberately caused stress for no good reason, partly because I just get stressed with people now, I ended up making a complete arse of myself with Jack this morning. All the stress has been coming to a climax for a few days, I have been grumpy, I’ll admit it, but this morning I yelled at Jack for something he shouldn’t do, but my reaction was WAAAAYYYY over the top. I brought him to the verge of tears. I hate seeing him cry. It rips me apart. I love the little fella so much that all I want is for him to be happy, and not have an arsehole father like I have. I think one thing that makes my father worse with me these days is he see’s the great relationship I have with my son, and he has never had anything remotely like it with his own. He’s gone way past the point of no return on that one with me, and I suspect with my brother also.

So, as I drove out of the driveway to take Jack to school, I was just about in tears myself. I apologised, and told him why I was so stressed, and that he didn’t deserve that from me. When I dropped him off at school, he cuddled me for a few extra moments than normal, he could see the tears in my eyes, and he said that he knew I was having trouble, and that he loves me. It had the dual effect of making me feel better, and making me blub all the way home.

I very rarely explode like that at him. Every time I feel like shit after. I think if I was going to do comparisons between me and my father, in Jack’s 8 years, I have exploded at him less times in that whole 8 years,  than my dad would have in just one week when I was a kid. Now, you could think that was because I was a naughty kid, you’d be wrong, I never got into trouble at school, in fact every single one of my teachers thought I was an example of what they wished every student they had was. I’m not blowing my own trumpet there, it’s the truth. I was even second to the Dux at school, so you don’t achieve that highly at school if you are a problem child.

Anyhow, here I am, sitting here this afternoon, in a foggy daze of fatigue, and regret for this morning, wanting to sleep but finding it impossible to do so, and now it’s reaching the point where I can’t until after Jack finishes school as well.

We are still getting stuffed around by the person who is apparently going to buy the house, they still haven’t signed the contract, this time it’s another excuse about someone being in hospital. The offer that was accepted, well below asking price mind you, was made and accepted nearly 3 weeks ago now, and even though the contract is signed by my parents, there is excuse after excuse why they haven’t yet. Our lives are in limbo until they get on with it, because without a signed contract, we don’t definitively have it sold and can’t make arrangements for our new place.

I might just stop for now, I am twisting myself up in knots again as this stuff is all so stressful, and I just want it to end. Good news is though, that my home made trailer is now registered.

Andy.

 

And here it comes again……

PTSD. It sucks. I mean, it really does. Last night, it decided to give a visit once again.

It doesn’t matter how long it is since the trauma happened, it comes back. It’s been 6 years since I escaped it, with Jack, and it was thanks to Jack that I did. For years I subjected myself to it, but I just couldn’t let it happen to him.

My ex-wife was an abuser. She was one of those ones that starts by isolating you from friends and family. Then she made me feel like I couldn’t survive without her (even though I was doing EVERYTHING to actually look after her, in reality, she couldn’t survive without me). Then she started on the bringing me down, the making me feel completely worthless crap. It just went on and on. Then, it became physical. I NEVER retaliated, because that’s how they really get you, you retaliate in self defence, and then get labelled the abuser, instead of the real abuser. I have plenty of physical scars. Loads of mental ones.

When Jack was on the way, it all stopped, and for the first 12 months after he was born, it was pretty good too. Then it all started, but not a gradual easing back into the abuse, it just happened one day, like a switch was flicked. Continual yelling at me for no reason, making me do everything and then telling me I did nothing. I would be up from 4.30am in the morning, doing washing, changing nappies, getting breakfast for everyone, folding washing once it was dry, making lunch for everyone, cleaning the house, making dinner, whilst changing ALL the nappies, bathing Jack, and eventually crashing in bed at 9 or 10 pm. Then I would hardly sleep because I was worried what she might do to me, or worse, Jack, in our sleep. This fear was warranted, as she had previously tried to suffocate me while I was a sleep, once with her hands, and once with a pillow.

Anyhow, we got away from that. But it visits from time to time. I can’t stand people yelling. It all comes back. Arguments do it too. Then I also get panic attacks, I’ve had a couple now, where it just feels like everything is too much and I feel like I am losing my mind. It usually happens in noisy, busy places, so I avoid places like that as much as possible.

Then, like last night, there are nightmares. Nightmares so vivid that quite often, once they wake me, I can’t go back to sleep. Jack gets them too. Jack’s are quite often things that he actually witnessed his mother do to me, which is so much fun to re-live when he tells me what happened in his bad dream. Mine tend to be a mix, some are just carbon copies of things I’ve tried to forget, some are based on my fears of what she might do if she ever got a chance to do it again.

It’s just a complete headache. You feel like you are doing well, you go months and months with nothing, then all of the sudden it starts up again. It stresses me out, which then has the flow on effect of flaring up my Fibromyalgia. It really sucks.

I guess this is one of the things people don’t talk about when it comes to the effects of Domestic Violence. It’s the aftermath, the things that are permanent damage. Physical scars, sure, they remain, but eventually fade. The emotional and mental stuff, the stuff people don’t usually talk about, is the real damage. It effects your health for the rest of your life. Even though the exact causes and mechanisms behind Fibromyalgia aren’t known, traumatic experiences are thought to be a major trigger to set the wheels in motion. Then you have the whole rebuilding of your confidence, and all the other associated stuff that comes from having yourself torn to pieces mentally. I also suffer from obesity and high blood pressure, both of which I didn’t suffer from before I met my ex. I used to run cross country, was an exponent of Judo, and a whole lot of other things that meant I was slim, muscular and healthy, I even used to border on having too low blood pressure. Now I am fat, flabby and am in a constant battle to keep my health.

I must just add here at this point, I am losing weight and working on the fitness, I have always eaten healthy, which is why it baffles me why I became so big, I mean, I was 165kg’s at my biggest, I am now significantly smaller than I was 3 years ago, but still have a bit to go. Put it this way, I can now go to a regular department store and buy clothes, before I had to go to the specialist “Big Men” stores to get anything to wear. As many big mean and women would know, there aren’t too many options in clothing when you are big. Now, I have a lot more freedom in clothing.

Talking about clothing, that’s one thing I noticed not long after I left my ex wife. Before I met her, I was colourful. I would deliberately find the brightest, most colourful clothing I could. When I left her, all my clothes were grey, black, brown and blue. All dark colours. They reflected the way I felt. As soon as I realised it was the case, I went out of the way to try and get a colourful wardrobe. These days, I refuse to buy anything unless totally necessary, in those dark, depressed colours.

Other things happened too. I was unable to watch anything I wanted to on TV, and forget about movies, from about the year 2002, until 2013, I pretty much missed anything that came out. She was paranoid that the people on TV could see her and knew what she was thinking. For the last 6 years I’ve been catching up on all the movies everyone raves about from that decade I lost. It’s quite strange turning on a TV and watching whatever the hell you want to.

I now read again, I used to be a veracious reader, but that too stopped. I stopped playing and writing music, something that was virtually my life before I met her. I played with numerous bands and did live gigs all the time, even playing with well know Australian bands and artists. I haven’t got back into the scene as I was before, and it is taking time for me to get back into the groove so to speak, when you haven’t played an instrument (or the 3 or 4 I did before I met the ex), for a while, it takes a lot to get back to the sort of condition you need to be in to get back into the music scene.

Well, I might leave this for now, I am tired, my son is tired and hassling me, and even though tomorrow is not such an early start, I need sleep. Goodnight.

Andy.