Another Round

Yet another round of Tit for Tat over Mister Surname. No surprise. Mister and Missus Surname are, without a doubt, the inspiration of the vast majority of the Tit for Tat skirmishes J and I have played in our 36 years together. Even the rare occassions my own parents have breached the wall of estrangement, my mommy still becomes his mommy and my daddy still becomes his daddy. That is a mind-fuck I still haven't unravelled. We really have come a long way on our Tit for Tat wars, but they are still quite rough on my own system. He told me --once-- that they are rough on his system, too, but the singular confession isnae much to work with. We have come a long way in keeping the skirmishes from dragging out to sleep deprivation, etc., but I still do my own healing without him and am clueless if he heals from them at all. I suspect he just sticks the festering wounds in his psychic closet and allows them to develop infections. I only suspect. Data unavailable.

One of J's ritual Tit for Tat dramas sure looks connected to the eye-gouging Missus Surname inflicted upon Mister Surname before I knew she was suffering Huntington's Disease. 2013 was the last time I witnessed the full ritual drama. In the skirmishes since then, I have realized that any mention of proverbial "dragging your nails across" is all it takes to bring the imagery of this man, twice my size, pulling the skin on his own face while he cavorts in dramatic, menacing imitations of agony. Tonight's round only got as far as using the single word, "Nails" and it still triggered the imagery.

I don't get insider information on the yaddahs of those blahs, but 36 years is enough that I have emotions of my own on the subject. J's family remains none of my in-law-only business, but. . . My emotions are not business. My sons and grandchildren are not business. My husband is beyond my control. Not mine to sort.

Staying safely on my own side of the silver platter, I need to process my own emotions on all this, including the looming prospect of having to support his privately owned nursing home on our middle class income. I damn sure ain't wiping his ass, not even on a silver platter. Yes, the 5 star gent is in diapers full time now. Do they make designer diapers for seniors? Do not even want to hear what off-color jokes will tittilate his imaginary June Cleaver during that grim necessity. Nor am I trusting J to resist his habitual busying out while he AssUmes I love that not working hobby should the charming fellow end up in my not working hobby closet.

Processing. . . For certain, the harder I work to repress emotions, the meaner I get. I don't even have Surname Family blessing to have emotions in Surname business. To them, it is all business. Officially. It is easy enough believe that during the catered family events. Not so much after a Tit for Tat skirmish with the love of my love.