Tag Archives: Fed Up

Where Do You Draw The Line?

Yes, I’ve been away for a few days here, but trying to at least answer followed posts. I’ve been dealing with the fallout of yet another battle with my mother. I’ve tried for years to get along with her, and when she gave me her wedding (ring) set, I’d hoped we’d truly rounded a corner in a lifetime long shitty relationship.

Image from depedkto12.blogspot.com

This time around, it was over my spinal problems and how I’m supposedly not doing anything to contribute to the household here. I’ve shown the woman my first MRI report from years back, tried to explain it over and over for almost a decade, and she refuses to accept any of it. At best, I should just got get surgery because I have insurance. As if it’s that simple.

After dropping hints repeatedly, trying to explain the problem and it’s side effects, etc… I finally had enough after our last phone call. I snapped and sent her a fairly strongly worded email saying I was sick of it, and if she spent not even half the time she did researching my grandfather’s alzheimers, she’d know what I’ve been going through. Also that I was sick of her efforts to bully me and destroy my self respect.

Her response was that “maybe we shouldn’t talk anymore since she always seems to piss me off”. Typical emotional manipulation and playing the victim card. If she’d listened the countless other times I tried to explain it all, it never would have hit the point it did.

I shouldn’t be surprised. She reacts poorly to any criticism. I’ve cut her out of my life for years at a time on two previous occasions too. This is the woman who ripped into me verbally if I brought home a B and had my first step dad beat me for Cs while I was in school. When I went to college, I was supposed to take double a full time load and work full time at a “real” job. I got crucified for any little mistake to the point I went from a major extrovert in elementary school to an isolationist level introvert from about the fourth grade on.

Oh yes, and I was told I was too much of a wimp to go take martial arts so I could learn to defend myself from all the bullies that I attracted. Belts in 6 styles later (Shou Shu Chi, Tae Kwon Do, American Sport Karate, Parker Kenpo, Tracy Kenpo and Wing Chun), I guess she can kiss my ass on that one.

Never got any credit for it either after I’d achieved it.

At this point, I want to just tell her “Fine, kiss off!”.

All the self doubt she beat into me over the years always seems to factor into situations like this though. *I* should be doing more, I should do something different, word things better, be more understanding.

She’ll quickly point out this verbal abuse goes back generations also and blame her behavior on that. It’s as close as she comes to taking responsibility. Otherwise she just blames me for not tolerating it.

I’ve worked hard to grow the last few years. Longer than that really, but it’s been a snowball; slowly picking up momentum and mass. Every time I start to do better, she seems to want to throw a boulder into my calm pond. I’m at a breaking point here, or rather the relationship is.

So, yeah… When is enough enough? Because where I’m sitting right now:

Regrouping One More Time…

Yes, I’m still alive. You’d never know it from my blogging activity though. With everything going on around here, it was better for me to keep a low profile instead of risking angry ranting posts or replies. So yeah… It’s been a hell of a week plus.

Long story short; the neighbors are acting worse than ever. Even after 30 good recordings of them trampling around upstairs like Bubba the Barbarian and his pet dinosaur Ugg, neither the apartment management nor the police will do anything about the noise issue. In the meantime, the poor quality sleep (tossing and turning) is undoing all the spinal rehab work I had done. I’m trying to double and triple down on the physical therapy to offset it. The return of the pain has only made my mood worse too.

Then, just to add injury to insult, the complex’s main entry gate malfunctioned, and slammed into the passenger side of the Subaru. Broke the heated power mirror and scraped up the passenger’s side front door. This all happened last night. The apartment security guard wouldn’t come look at it, and the management team also opted out earlier today, saying just email them pictures even with the car right in front of the office.

THEN the manager makes excuses about being out of town when I complained to corporate that nobody would even come look at the vehicle. Guess she was too dense to realize her assistant outright told us she was just “too busy” to be bothered.

Typical “we have all the money and power” mentality… except they don’t. Here’s what I’ve got to say about that:

My sister would probably love that. Wrestling junkie & she actually chases the indie circuit around. I know OF old timers like “Dirty” Dutch Mantell. She hangs out with them, lol.

Unlike in wrestling, violence doesn’t work in the real world, other than as a pass to jail. Whoop-Ass comes in many forms though, and redheads are EVIL. How do you play the game in this situation?

  1. Keep Getting Recordings for Court. – We’re up to about 30 loud ones and almost as many lower quality ones.
  2. Trash them on Yelp. – As long as it’s accurate, it’s legal
  3. Post Pictures of EVERYTHING remotely out of order in the complex.
  4. Expand the Reviews to other Sites, esp ones specializing in renting.
  5. Picket the complex on Saturdays and Sundays when they’re getting prospective tenants – You have to stay on the public right of way (ie on the main street) and keep what you say accurate, but this is brutally effective.
  6. Organize Other Tenants that that are fed up with similar issues – there are several here.
  7. Get past and present tenants to “carpet bomb” bad reviews all over the internet. It’s a sleazy SJW tactic used against gaming companies and other businesses, but sometimes it’s justified.

OH and yes, we’re going to talk to animal control about if there MIGHT be anything that they can do about the abusive situation of keeping 2 large dogs boxed up in a 1000 square foot apartment and never walking them.

I’ve spent too many years listening to consumer advocates and reporters. I *KNOW* how to play the game. That above list isn’t even al the tricks I’ve got. That’s even IF (getting to be a bigger IF every day) I decide to keep my game on the moral high ground.

Given all the “Game” talk and the wrestling mentions, I suppose a few of you are expecting a Triple H reference of some sort here. Nope. I’ve fumed long enough and now it’s time to get back to my roots

That shirt… That’s my family’s creed too. Literally. And Rhonda Rousey isn’t the only one with a Hot Rod shirt.