Could have been worse

Went to the first counseling session today. It was tolerable. Having been through therapy before I had an idea what to expect. The therapist was an outgoing guy, throwing out plenty of questions, but filled with personal anecdotes, unusual in my experience. My therapist always played the cipher, impassive, sparse, never mentioning his personal life.

He asked us why we were here, which I figured he would, so I answered first since I'd given it some thought. Much of what was said is stuff I've said here, minus MOST of the profanities. The one exception being when he asked me how I felt about my sister, "I fucking hate her."

If my parents commit to it, like I hope they will, they will be the ones seeing the therapist most of the time, then I'll be brought back in, or rotated with the babykicker, assuming she ever agrees to participate (not holding my breath)

Ugh unpacked even further

Another golden moment.

My father rode in backwards on a white horse, late as usual, his interference kicking dust and shit and bad bad luck. The fighting commenced anew. It was all out movie time and babykicker wanted her Oscar. Papi said something--I don't remember what--and I retorted, viciously and unfairly, "shut-up, you don't mean anything to me." I am after all still brimming with anger at his misdeeds. Babykicker stepped in, exclaiming how I shouldn't talk that away about people who "put shelter over our heads" My eyes widened. This deserved instant mockery. The nasty little child who constantly calls mom a bitch, papi a motherfucker, who does nothing--NOTHING!!--except sleep and eat and scream. Yes,Babykicker, who behaves as if she does us all a favor by staying here, had found Jesus.

This was a craven attempt to woo my father, she's always manipulating him to get what she wants. This time though, my mockery was straight and acerbic and long with sarcasm, for a hemi-demi-semi moment, I think she actually felt foolish.

State of the dogs

This particular fight was largely facilitated by continued hygiene problems with the dogs: everyone shitting and peeing where they're not supposed to. Snuggles and Princeton have ALWAYS had issues, and Fern (babykicker's dog) is nuts (most likely the result of abuse). But Radar wasn't just house trained, I took him to a handler for weeks and weeks of clicker training. Moving back home has been a disaster on that front. One of the babykicker's favorite excuses is that all the other dogs have issues so why is Fern's behavior an issue? (She pees and shits in other people's rooms) This tactic is particularly irksome, considering the effort I've put into Radar's house training. For the record, last night I tried to say, "look, all the dogs have accidents, no one is denying that, but Fern is doing X,Y, and Z. Just put her in a crate when you leave and you will reduce the number of accidents" Babykicker wouldn't hear it. She seemed to be obstinate about that fact....I'm sorry I just fantasized about caving her face in MMA style....she seemed to be obstinate just to be obstinate.

Now I will confess to this, I think I called her a miserable cunt a little while before I said that, I don't remember, so things were already bad and probably past the point of reason. But that's part of why I called her a miserable cunt in the first place. Frustration. She NEVER listens to reasons, rejects all criticism as a personal act (and will turn around say I can't take criticism)....sorry fantasized about choking her out....Yeah, this is bad.
javascript:void(0)
For example, she called me anorexic. Huh??? I eat all the time. She's the one with eating problems.

I'm sorry, this was supposed to be about the dogs, and I'm back to talking about her. The point I was moving towards is I think a lot of the dog issues may be acting out. This is their way of handling all the negative energy, loving them isn't enough. I have to get out of this house. I have to get Radar out of this house. Someone in this house is going to snap big time, I'd rather it not be me.

Ugh

Have *YOU* had a knockdown drag-out fight with your family lately? Happy Father's Day!!!


How odd it is that this seems to be the only way I learn anything about the babykicker. I admit, sad and pathetic all around.

Soooooooooooooo, this time things began between mom and my "sister" over doggie behavior (poop, pee, etc.) Man, I don't even feel like going into the details. I got involved (Her dog pees and craps in my room), and it was a down hill thrill ride from there. Here are a few choice moments:

Me: "You're a miserable cunt." My personal favorite only because it was the truth. She is a miserable cunt. It's what I really believe. Hmm, that is only one moment. Please, cut me some slack, this fight isn't even 30 minutes old.

Ah, but I did say this is the time when I learn something new about the babykicker. I was quite astounded when she boasted of her talents. To which talents does she speak of? Once upon a time, she was a dancer, a very good one. Then she fucked her life up and did squat. Well, as I said, she boasted of her talents. She was such a good dancer she got accepted to Vanderbilt---she went to Cal Arts and failed out in a semester. And what was the other one? She was a good writer. Really? When did this happen? When does she even write??? She either sleeps or is with her boyfriend. Regardless, I'm not sure if she's even seen anything I've written so I don't know how she can make the comparison.

She's delusional. Seriously. She's trying to win a argument with talents she's thrown in the crapper?

That pretty much sums up my rebuttal too, except....my monitor keeps going on out me.....Was talking to G...I'll return to the fight later.

General State of Things

Did some side-control drills last night. I managed to recover guard on everyone, and all but one---I believe--was unable to recover on me. Not bad.

God, as much as I hate work, I'll be pleased to be generating income again. I need to move out of this house. Away from my father, away from the babykicker, and away from my neat freak mom (the only member of the family whom I have a good relationship with).

I'm sleeping in a little too long most days, and any behavior that is even vaguely comparable to the babykicker's makes me a bit neurotic and self-conscious.

I just returned from a lifting and swimming workout. I feel good, energized...I also have too much Endorush in my system. I may go to the dojo later and get another crossfit workout in. I really don't want to be up all night because of some damn energy drink.

I submitted a few poems to an online lit mag, I know the ed. in chief, although we haven't talked in a few years. I'm hoping that, even if rejected, she can give me some advice on what to do with the material. (I've been toying with showing these poems to my girlfriend for the last few months, but I've been reticent to do so because they are about our shared trauma, and how I/we've been affected. I'm scared of her response. I showed her a PS statement I wrote a couple years ago and, er. she took it the wrong way. This is a trust thing. And I wonder if, in order to--and I feel like a self-help book saying this--work through the trauma I need to do this, consequences be damned. This strikes me as peculiarly analogous do the decision people make after they've cheated on a lover. Do you confess or do you bury it? There's no telling what will happen, there isn't even a guarantee that it will be beneficial on an individual if you tell the truth. Hmm, that's interesting. Do I believe I am engaging in a deception by not showing her the poems?)

I'll say this for Endorush, it ain't a bad motivator for writing, but don't tell anyone it can focus the left brain, that's the purview of evil S L O W drugs like pot. Then again, maybe it's a good idea most writer's DON'T try Endorush for creative purposes. That's all the world needs, a bunch of writers hopped up on uppers. So instead of dealing with a bunch who are largely prone to suicide and drink, you'd have a bunch prone to suicide and pep. They'd get around to killing themselves much faster cutting their work out put in half, that or they'd merely do the same work in half the time.

Bad news, Good news

I'm not pleased with the spotty posting. Seems every proclamation to regularly scheduled program guarantees 5 to 7 days of silence. So no more proclamations, just determination.

Sigh, so where to begin. Bad News first of course. My father has--
I don't even know what to write. No, I know what to write, but I am enervated. Drained of the energy to write about his whiz bang cherry-banana split of hubris, stupidity, and what is either stubbornness or senility.

He had to send a letter to Federal Court in Texas. He doesn't mention this to anyone, doesn't write the letter, until he's eating dinner with mom the night before it's due. There's more to arc of the story. It isn't worth reciting. The letter didn't make it. Not even close.

More bad news: still seem to be nursing a crush. This has exacerbated a sense of impending doom. That my relationship with G is in waning moments. When I'm with my girlfriend I feel more sad than happy, more agitated and angry than excited. We spent memorial day weekend at the beach house. We had fun. Visited a few of her friends. Spent time on the beach, even went to a drive-in (holy ground as far as I'm concerned). But I snapped at her a few times. Once I even felt the need lash out at her physically. I cannot endure our relationship this way, regardless of whether we're living together or long distance. The only thing worse than the fear of hitting her, is actually hitting her. What would I do then? That rabbit hole is not worth the tumble.

There's been talk of her getting a promotion again. One she richly deserves, but I'm afraid it will be our death knell. She will have no incentive to move, regardless of when she finishes her M.A. I can't go back there, I can't live in Florida, the town of our prime years is tinted by rape and anger and stasis.
As I say this I want to make it clear I have no indication that Chastity likes me; in fact I highly doubt it, even if she did I balk at the potential incompatibilities. She's probably evangelical, I'm coo-coo bananas, and a horny, low tolerance for organized religion coo-coo bananas.

Good news:
I've unlocked the secret of the upper-cut. I won't go so far as to say I've MASTERED the damn thing, but I'm finally punching with my whole body. Not just my arms, not just my legs, not my arms and legs, but my arms legs and CORE.
Drop with the legs, twist the core on a descending diagonal, rise up with legs and core,let the arm poke up just a bit past nose level. Also I took my 2-stripe yellow belt test Thursday, unless I really botched the vocab section, I should have passed.

Money lost, trust destroyed

Remember that legal settlement? The one that put money into my anemic bank account?
(I haven't written about this because I've been too damn angry) It went poof. All of it (that was in checking and savings) As did all the money in my personal accounts. As did all the money in my mom's personal accounts.

I have my father to thank for this. The Practice was involved with an Infusion Company, and papi has gone out of his way to make grossly stupid decisions made with astonishing hubris and aggressive ignorance--he was told repeatedly these were horrible decisions/actions and did them nonetheless. In list form because a narrative would take me a week:

1. Signed a contract without having a lawyer read it: shockingly, they screwed the practice out of money.
2. Resigned contract.
3. When practice was in financial trouble, money was borrowed from Infusion company,
shortly after, he broke ties, all hell breaks loose.
4. Refuses to mediate. Even though he is in a position of weakness (through his legal bungling) and has the resources to meet a settlement that is LESS than 6 figures.
5. Infusion company's legal rep sent letter. The good doctor responded to it personally, instead of handing it over to a lawyer and letting him deal with it.
6. Even though he transferred some of his money into my NEW accounts, (a process that took 8 days) he has shown little interest in mediation to retrieve our money.
Nor does he seem particularly concerned that the Infusion Company is beating its chest about sending mom to jail. He would rather try and sue them for what he believes he is owed (ethically he might have had a point, but he SIGNED CONTRACTS..see point 1. Yes, there are ways out of contracts, but legal advice procured after the fact showed that document was ironclad then, doubtful it would have changed).

I am appalled by this serious violation of trust, I remain unconvinced that he feels any way responsible for this. In fact, I'm worried he'll turn around and try to sue HIS lawyer. In his mind this is about HIM, not the practice, not me, not mom, not the employees. Stupidity is radioactive, and my father is fuckin' Chernobyl.

PS. --how can such astute physician be so goddamned self destructive when it comes to everything else??

PSS--the process by which said Infusion Company pulled off this vicious little shit-ball coo is called "piercing the corporate veil". When personal assets are closely tied to business assets, a corp can petition to go after 'em.

Meanwhile, on the homestead

too many fights. too much silence. and jellybeans, a whole lotta jellybeans.