Here We Go AGAIN
There is some sneaky stuff going on around here and my whole day has just been ruined. Maybe my whole week.
Monster arrives back – YES, I SAID BACK! - Tomorrow. Monday. August 30. Guess when I found out about it? Guess HOW I found out about it?
When: JUST. Fucking. NOW. How: Well, I had made Iranian food called Kotlet for supper. Z came home early. We ate. As I was clearing the table he walked in and said it was good and thank you. THEN, he got his typical sneaky look on his face and said “Mom will love this tomorrow”. I dropped the platter in my hand on the counter in shock and I looked at him with my mouth gaping open, eyes popped wide in disbelief and said “WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY???” Z repeated it, with a BIG ASS SMILE ON HIS FACE, loving the look of misery that stole over my face. I asked him “are you serious?” as my shoulders slumped as he said “yeah!!”. Then he started LAUGHING at me. (for those of you wondering, yes, he yet breathes, but I can’t make any promises for how much longer if he keeps this shit up)
My God, I feel like I’ve been hit in the head with a sledgehammer. It’s as if a huge dark cloud has encompassed my whole head. The wall of depression that descended on me was instantaneous.
Here we go again…. Dammit all to hell.
Her spying on me, reporting my every move (I shit you not, y’all. A blow by blow from the second I get up (time) until Z gets the hell home from work, where she is waiting with her report. How long I take a shower what I ate, drank, (in minute detail- yes, even quantity)how many phone calls I get, make, how long they lasted, who it seemed I was talking to, how many times I left the house, where I went, if I came back with shopping bags, from where (no, she can’t read, but she knows the logos or the color of the bag)and how many of them. What I said, what I did. IF I watched TV, for how long, if I read, if I listen to music, if I sing. How many times I might change clothes and what and WHY? Every.damn.thing.I.do. Every.move. I.make. (Cue the Police song “Every Breath You Take” here)
You think I’m joking, don’t you? Well darlings, unfortunately, I’m NOT. I wish to GOD I was. As a matter of fact, I feel seriously nauseous. Now my ulcer will start acting up again and Acid Reflux. Gah.
The report, by the way, is NOT only for Z. It is also given as Breaking News Updates to my two sister-in-laws that live in Bahrain, by telephone throughout the day. “Az” (mom of the triplets and her hubby), AND my damn NEIGHBORS. Yes, my neighbors. And whomever ELSE might just happen to dial her phone number.
Oh yes, tomorrow also marks the return of: her stealing my belongings, (and now Arianna’s also since they wear the same shoe size for now, but I’ll get to that later.) hiding things from me, purposely “accidentally” breaking my things, throwing food I cook in the trash. Heaping curses on me (fucking great, and my allergies are acting up, which means with every sneeze, I will get to hear, not “God Bless You” but “Inshallah bimerree” (translation: “God willing, you die”) among many others. If I just walk past her room through the hallway, saying nothing.. I hear any number of things in Persian: “stupid bitch”, or the translated to English “ hope they take you to the undertaker soon” or “Hope they throw dirt on your head(once you’re in your grave) soon”… always soon. I must say, Persian curses are quite creative. This is just a sample…. There are many, MANY more that I get daily. I get at least 10-15 per day, on a SLOW day. Lets see, that’s say, 10, @365 days in a year, that comes to: 3,650 curses a year, times 15 years, that comes to 54,750 curses. That isn’t counting when she is in one of her rant moods, which is often, I’m just giving you a low idea here. I can get as many as 15 in a matter of minutes sometimes… so the actual number is actually HIGHER than 54,750. damn.
More of her talking shit about me to my child, my husbands relatives (and there is a LOAD of them in this country) , neighbors, again… TO MY CHILD.
The only bright side to her coming back tomorrow? Arianna will get her sandals back. See, MY mom had sent Ari her “Summer Care Package” with shorts, tank tops, etc… and flip flops and sandals, and of course, the other Nana type stuff… candy, hair stuff, blah blah. I had been telling Ari to wear one particular pair lately and she said, “THEY AREN”T HERE!” I looked and looked everywhere for them. No. Then I got C, (who was in Iran with Monster at her house) Z’s younger brother/sister (He is currently in transition from a male to a woman) on IM one day and asked “her” to look for these particular sandals that were BRAND NEW and that Ari had worn a total of: ONCE. 2 days later, Z got the IM from C that yup, said sandals were being worn in Iran. (this burned my ass, let me tell you. IS NOTHING SACRED?)
The family here is just now all starting to get along again, and now she will come and start fights between everyone. Sigh.
I need a damn job ASAP so at least I won’t be here with her very much.
And she talks NONSTOP about nothing at all. If I’m on the computer, she comes and talks incessantly and tries to see what I’m doing staring at the screen. Ditto for when I try to read (which I usually give up and go hide in my room and read now with the door shut) or watch TV. And no, earplugs don’t work. I’ve tried. She still follows me around the house. Yap. Yap, yapppppp.
As is, she has driven “C” to the point of nervous breakdown in Iran. (Hah! Wimp. Only after 2weeks!) He/She has said so… countless times. They’ve even been in massive fights. She went so far as to change the locks on the house and not GIVE him/her a copy of the key so that when she leaves, it can’t be used. C and Z helped her BUY the damn house (for her to fucking LIVE IN , but she doesn’t want to) and the furniture and stuff in it. C bought washer dryer, TV, satellite dish, computer, beds, etc, etc, etc, for the house. Now she’s locked him/her OUT!? C has been paying the phone bill, elect, water, etc… while living there, and leaving enough paid in advance for when gone working. THAT’S her kid!
Z just walked by, still laughing and snickering. Grrrrrrrrrrrrr. This is not funny. Why the hell does he think my unhappiness is amusing? I don’t understand at all. I just don’t get it.
I will admit. I have had at least 6 complete and total breakdowns (not joking here) in the past 10 years directly related to her. Not treated, not seen by a doctor. No medicine. Just I had to somehow “heal” and deal from them on my own. Z has been present at each one. So yes, he knows and is aware they have happened. Damn, but I’m so tired of all this. The thought of it exhausts me.
Well, at least now I have some “happy pills” to numb me.
If I were a horse, someone would shoot me in the head, wouldn’t they?