Again. When will I learn?

When I lay down, the whole situation fans out in chronological order. It makes sense. It’s clear and concise. But when I get up and open this program, my brain skitters like a puppy on linoleum.

honest to god, I’m an idiot.

TL;DR. BIL has conned me again that husband is dying, when he’s not.

This post is mainly about my brother in law, and lightly touches on my partner, who is not dying and probably coming home next week some time.

He was the one telling me all of my partner’s organs were shutting down (see previous post). it was a couple of days later I called the nurses’ station. I hadn’t before because they’d taken me off next of kin previously. but they didn’t this time. The nurse said he was non verbal, but aware of his surroundings. for some stupid reason, I believed BIL.

anyway, when I asked the kids (bil’s kids) how my husband was doing, they repeated BIL stance.

but really, it was a lie. a deliberate, nasty toxic lie. Its only purpose to hurt me, because I didn’t leave the house, I didn’t visit him on his ‘death bed’. When Bil told me these lies, I didn’t go into snot nose, ugly crying, sack cloth and grief screams.

It’s just evil. mean, because I can’t fight back. he backstabs and sneers, and whispers like a snake into husband’s ear ‘she’s smoking!’ and husband treats this like it’s a new thing. husband believes nothing I say about bil, it is pointless even trying. and to top it off, I don’t backstab. I do not say nasty things about people. i would say the truth but that’s pointless as it’s not believed.

So husband called me last night and said he’s probably coming home after the weekend. totally screwed up bil line about dying any time now.

i have a hard time understanding how bil thinks. just the evil coming off him. and my husband looks up to him like he’s a saint.

well, one or two more days/weeks and they’re gone. 6 months later his effect will wear off enough for me to talk to husband without him just parroting whatever that evil, toxic little man did to his brain.

edit; I forgot to mention me, how I’m reacting. The last 3 weeks, my lungs are ‘normal’. I’ve been breathing like a normal person. no stress, no whease, no cough. it was flipping amazing. Even when talking to my ‘dying’ partner didn’t change my breathing. then, through comments partner made, I realized bil was lying to me, backstabbing me, just generally having a good time poisoning my partner against me. once I realized that, my lungs started seizing up. I am constantly doing chest relaxation breathing techniques. the knowledge of what that ass wipe is doing and harmed my health. I have also come to the realization I really, really dislike that man.

Flasher, Exhibitionist,

It’s been many years since he’s done this. Flashing ‘accidentally’. Nothing accidental about it at all. When in hospital, wearing one of those gowns. Uncle and Aunt come to visit. He spreads his legs as far as possible, making sure the gown hikes up so aunt gets a prime view. And she did, there was no way to avoid it. He’s done this a couple of times. One time when in A&E, he wanted me to give him a BJ. A&E was crowded and the only thing separating us from others was a modesty curtain. There are some people who have this kind of life style, I find it repugnant.

He’s also stood in front of a glass door, sunlight streaming in, and spread his legs. He was wearing something so thin, he didn’t need to be back lite to outline his penis. We had visitors, mainly women, and it was his mother who told him what was happening. It was a total surprise to him (not).

I bring up these old subjects because I’ve recently become aware of this behavior resurfacing. Only a bit different. More exhibitionist than a flasher. Or maybe it’s a different word.

Our bathroom is currently being worked on and the window curtain is off. The glass is wavy but not totally opaque. The walls are white tile and the light is so bright, it hurts my eyes. The toilet is right next to the window.

I don’t know what the actual wattage is but it is a spotlight in function. Every day, night or day, he turns that light on when he uses the toilet. At night, with that light, he is on full display to anyone walking by the house. He might as well be taking a dump on the sidewalk outside. Or peeing – kind of a modified dic pick. This kind of exhibitionist behavior creeps me out.

I don’t understand it. A quick google search told me this, which actually makes sense and helps me understand.

What causes a person to be an exhibitionist?

What Causes Exhibitionist Behavior? Some of the risk factors for developing exhibitionistic disorder include past sexual abuse, antisocial personality disorder, alcohol or substance use, and interest in pedophilia. The prevalence rate for exhibitionistic disorder is unknown but occurs almost exclusively in males.15 Dec 2022

He’s told me he was sexually abused as a kid but I’m doubtful. Okay, he sometimes tells the truth, but more likely, he just wanted sympathy. Antisocial personality disorder, is a good call. Not alcohol or drugs. And I doubt he has a pedophile problem, but he’s outside my view enough, I may not see it.

At least it gives me an idea of why he does it. It turns him on.

Catch up

I keep thinking, Oh, I’ll remember that! I’ll post in a couple of days.

Of course, I don’t remember.

I was in the hospital in august. Got out the 10th. I was triggered by the filthy house. Couldn’t breathe. They kept sending me home, and I’d be back in a couple of hours. The hospital system is so overwhelmed they do everything to keep from admitting people. When I was admitted, and then released days later, I was feeling pretty good.

The partner had to clean the house. Like, really clean it. Within a couple of days, he was sick. I was expecting this. He is the only person allowed to be sick in this household. If I’m sick, he’s sick in a couple of days, and it’s worse.

He went to bed. Whined continuously. Took little baby steps to get to the bathroom. Really milked it. I helped him, made sure he had food and water (something he doesn’t do for me) made sure he took his meds, etc. But honestly, I thought he was faking. Then he developed a fever. He wasn’t faking.

I kept trying to get him to call for an ambulance. He kept refusing. Until he couldn’t move, at all. Couldn’t get out of bed for the toilet and you can guess where that went. He didn’t tell me, but I found out when taking his temperature, he’d spiked up to 104f/40c. If I’d known, I would have called for an ambulance if he liked it or not. Finally, he admitted defeat and called for an ambulance. His fever was no longer too high, it was only 102f/38.8c. The ambulance service told him it wasn’t life-threatening and refused to pick him up.

So we called a secondary service – for non-life-threatening medical issues. They took him to the hospital for …what was the term? Public service or some such. Word got out quick and his family started showing up to take care of him. Which was good, he literally couldn’t raise his hand to drink and the nursing staff was so short staffed, they couldn’t care for him.

In short order, the oldest brother showed up. After a couple of days, he comes home from the hospital and says: he’s had a stroke and multiple organ failure. He has hours to days to live.

This was a lie.

It was gaslighting.

A couple of days later when I enquired about his organ failure, he says, quote. Orgain failure? He’s never had organ failure. I asked about his stroke, and my BIL waves his hand, It might have been a stroke, but MRI is indeterminate.

He gas lit me. For funzies. See, I can’t leave the house. I equate leaving the house with death. So I weigh each thing – is it worth dying for? Well, when I thought my partner was on his death bed, I said yes, it’s worth going out for. BIL says, but I thought you couldn’t leave the house? (but his tone was AHHA! I knew you could, you’re just faking it. Wanting attention.)

Ever since then, he has literally ignored me. He does not respond when I make a comment. He looks either through me or not at me at all. I’m not invisible. I do not exist.

There are many things I can bring up about my BIL, and I will. I don’t know all the ends and outs of what abusive behavior is, but I figure one or two things he’s doing would qualify.

I will be going into that in the next post. Hopefully soon. I have no one to talk to, so this is it. No one to talk to here, either, but better than just sobbing all day. I’m tired of crying.

Good Boi / Bad Boi

It goes in cycles, it always does. We have a time when he acts like a normal, supportive human being. Almost the man I fell in love with 20 years ago. Then something happens. Sometimes I’m aware what the trigger is, but not always. We just finished the bad boy thing, very nasty, trying to kill me via coronavirus, getting his friend to tell me I don’t have covid19, when I did. The snark, the sneer, the rolled eyes. That’s over now. Now he’s in his good boy phase.

This is to lull me in a very false sense of security. All is good! He loves me! He praises me! He tells me I am brilliant. Then, when I’m not expecting it, whammy, sucker punch to the kidneys. It’s coming. I know it’s coming. I don’t know the exact date, I don’t know what it’ll be, but it’s coming.

I give it three to four weeks. Then he’ll do something.

I Think He’s A Sociopath.

I’ve made a mistake.

Partner comes in, slumps down on the bed, hangs his head and claps his hands, and says sadly; I am a bad man.

I wanted to say; you aren’t a bad man. You are an evil man.

However, self preservation kicked in and I didn’t say that. I said nothing. And that was my mistake. I did, at least, look at him as if expecting him to say more on it. He peeked up at me, to see how I was reacting – and I realize now, to see if I was buying it.

I should have said: You are not a bad man. Then shut the hell up. That’s how he lies, or one of the ways, by not saying the whole truth.

So a couple of days later, we had that little comedy that I posted a couple of days ago, with his doctor friend. Next time, I’ll say what’s needed for self preservation. You aren’t a bad man, dear. Of course not. He’ll buy it, I think, because it’s what he wants or expects to hear.

I wondered – would it help if I told him I thought he was a sociopath? I did a bit of research on it (I am not a psychiatrist, but I wanted some kind of feed back on the question). Landed on a page with questions answered by sociopaths, and lets just say it was eye opening.

I came away with several thoughts on it, but here are a couple of them. 1) Deaf and blind people don’t consider themselves ‘broken’. They’re just different. Sociopath’s don’t think of themselves as broken, either. They use their ‘skills’ just like anyone else does. Those skills utilize their lack of emotions or guilt and a driving desire to achieve [insert anything]. 2) Every last one of them said if someone told them they were a sociopath (A. They know that, doh) they would consider said person of no use to them, and ‘fuck them up’. Every last one of them said that. Some went a bit further and said … well, paraphrase, they would ghost them or ghost them. (fade away or kill them). Now, even with the grandosius mindset of them all thinking they would ‘fuck you up’, it still boiled down to making your life a living hell.

So, people, if you think telling a sociopath that you are on to them is a good idea, DON’T. It’s not.

Hence my new goals of self preservation.

I spoke with a real doctor about my (maybe) coronavirus symptoms and she confirmed, Yes, I had coronavirus. Gave me some suggestions, reassured me that my fever lasting a month, where not normal, was a known symptom for some people. That’s all I needed to hear, really. Okay. I had it. I survived, didn’t need to go to hospital. Mental releaf. My partner went out of his way to fuck me up and for a few days it worked, until I was able to talk to a medical professional. When I told him what she said, his face was blank. Like that whole comedy a couple of days ago never happened. I got mad.

Then I got sad.

I got really sad. Started crying. I’m not a cryer. I’ve cried 3 times in the last 20 years. I feel broken if I cry. It takes a LOT to get me to cry. I cried on and off for 2 days. I don’t feel better. I feel fragile.

Afraid. Or Gaslighting?

This post might become a little jumbled. The last 24 hrs has been a bit of a ride. As my emotions and thoughts are all over the place this post might reflect that.

I was watching a youtube vid by a guy evaluating the Tiger King show. I’ve not watched Tiger King but I’m interested in body language, and he does body language. One of the things he says is; watch him. He says something, then turns to her as if asking ‘was that right? did I say it right?’. She is in control, he needs reassurance that he’s still in her good books. He’s afraid of her. (might be paraphrasing, but that’s the gist.) My jaw dropped. My partner does that all the time. Acting like he’s afraid of me. Sometimes when we’re alone but also in front of other people. “I have to walk around you like I’m on eggshells”, my partner says. “You just go off over nothing”. Am I doing that? I’ve been angry a few times, who doesn’t get angry? But as far as I know, I’ve never been angry over nothing. An example of my getting angry: He says something outrageous, let’s call it ‘a woman’s place is in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant’… not necessarily that, but that caliber of ‘outrageous’. I respond as you might expect. He says; ‘We’ll talk about it when you’re not hormonal’. (Which I read as: when you agree with me, you’re not hormonal). But now, I’m wondering, AM I abusive? DO I threaten him? I will, absolutely, defend myself. It’s a verbal thing, on both… hum. I was going to say, its a verbal thing on both our sides, but that’s not true anymore. He has started to get physical in his murder attempts. Am I becoming abusive?

Or is it a magnificent case of gaslighting? Convince me, and anyone else, I am the abusive one, he’s just a poor, innocent man dealing with a woman who goes off on nothing. And I guess, you have to define ‘nothing’. To him, saying something outrageous is nothing. He doesn’t mean it, he’s frequently just changed sides during an argument/debate. It’s not the subject, it’s about getting reactions.

Gaslighting is making you doubt your own reality. Am I abusive?

He says he’s afraid of me, and now I am absolutely afraid of him. Another thing that happened in this last 24 hours, but I’ll make a different post on it, as I think it might get long.

If I Cry, He Wins

Background; I’m sick with what I suspect as covid 19, classic presentation for the first week. But it seems to drag on and on. I mention to partner, all the times he’s talked to his doctor friends, he never tells them I’m sick. I tell him he’s been disregarding everything I’ve said from day one. He denies this even though he’s told me a few times, flat out, I don’t have it. I gave my partner a written list of all the symptoms I’d had over a week ago.

He gets a little snotty about it and I respond in kind. We decide we don’t know what ‘a fever’ is, the definition the medical community is going by.

He calls one of his doctor friends, who say; ‘In this country, ‘a fever’ is anything over 37c’ (meaning, anything over normal). This puts me in ‘sick’ country. He calls a different friend doctor.

So his friend returns the call and my partner walks in and says something to the effect of; you want to talk to him? He’s standing two feet away from me and shouts. I don’t remember the exact words but the effect I came away with was ‘you can talk to him but I already have and you’d be a dick if you do’.

I say, ‘did you tell him my symptoms?’

‘yes’

So I say, no need to talk to him, then.

He speaks with him another 20 mins or so, coming back with two questions. How long have I been smoking and how long have I had COPD. After the call, he comes back and asks if I want to know what he said.

Restraining all sarcastic remarks, I say yes.

His doctor friend says I don’t have it. If I did, I would have recovered by now or I’d be dead. He says it’s just a COPD attack. A little more long winded but that was the bottom line. I didn’t interrupt, roll my eyes, or do anything other than nod. I gave the impression I bought it all. But inside, I’m thinking this just doesn’t match up with other things I’ve seen or watched.

It bothers me enough to wonder what my partner had told him. So the next day, I ask what symptoms he’d told his friend I had. Now this is word for word;

“I told him you had a fever, breathlessness, headaches, runny nose, aches, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. And yes, I said ‘etcetera etcetera etcetera’, just like that.”

I said, ‘etcetera etcetera etcetera’? Honestly stunned. He said; Hey, I gave you the opportunity to talk to him yourself!

And I remember, only just then, how my partner lies. He lies with the exact truth. Then uses body language to indicate something else. But he’s on the phone, he can’t use body language to indicate they are all fake or lies. He had to do something verbally. Hence, the ‘etcetera’ business. In effect, he told his doctor friend I was faking. Just putting out symptoms and on and so on and etcetera, yadda yadda.

Of all the times he’s tried to kill me I’ve been amused. This time, I don’t feel amused. I wanted an independent, 3rd party honest opinion. He poisoned it. And implanted the idea with his friend that I’m…god knows what. A hypochondriac? Faking it? Looking for attention?

This time I feel hurt. I’ve had to stop myself from crying several times. I don’t think I’m sick enough to go to hospital. But I’m sick enough to want reasurance that I’m not imagining it, that it’ll be ok, and at what point to call for help. My partner doesn’t want me to go to the hospital either, he says because if you go, you’re likely to get it while in there. Now, that is a ligitament worry.

But the hospital is also where you go to get help. And if you need help and don’t go get help, you die. Which is okay with him, really. He knows if you’re meant to die, you will, and if you’re not meant to, you won’t. I’m fine with him believing that. I’m not fine with him pushing that onto me.

OR I am a hypochondriac.

I’m too tired for this shit.

The other day, I asked my partner where the large ace bandages were. I’d done something to my knee while sleeping, suspect I’d laid on it in such a way the joint slid sideways slightly. It hurt like hades and was difficult to walk on. Now, I didn’t tell him why I wanted the bandage or what I think I’d done. I just asked him where the bandages were.

Two days later, he had a ‘broken rib’.

He can’t tolerate it when it isn’t him that is the sickest. Broken bones are the unprovable go-to for being suddenly, without reason, sick. His bones have been brittle in the past, but he’s been on the ‘normal’ scale for some years. Yet he can break bones by – breathing. Sitting. Laying down. When he has a broken rib, he finds it difficult to walk. Tells me constantly he’s an old man, now. He grunts with each step. Moans picking up a cup. Takes baby steps. The problem with all this – he only does it when he thinks I can see or hear him. He takes tiny steps until he can’t see me. Then he walks normally. It’s so incredibly childish. I tell him to go to the hospital. He says there’s nothing they can do for him. I think there’s only so much faking you can do and you can’t fake an x-ray.

This is only one example. It happens every single time.

And I’ve recently had a couple of things happen that have kind of freaked me out. He knows about one of them but not the other.

I was cooking some chicken legs. Put them in the oven, set the temp and the timer, gave them 30 minutes. The timer goes off, I check on them, and decide they need another 15 minutes. I could not, for the life of me, set the timer. I’d push the little clock icon and it kept telling me 17 hours – I couldn’t get it to change! (it was 5pm.) After messing with it for a few minutes I finally went to ask him for help. About 2 inches to the right of the clock icon is a dial, that you turn, to set the timer. Remember, I’d just set it 30 minutes previous! The second he turned it, I remembered, yeah, that’s how you do it. But when I was trying to do it…my vision kind of ended on the clock icon. I didn’t even see the dial just to the right. It wasn’t there. I didn’t think there was something there. It was just …blank. This hasn’t happened again since then, but that scared the crap out of me.

Then a few days later. I feel an abrasion on my finger. Look at it and see this scab like thing. My nose had been running so I thought it was a bit of dried snot I’d not noticed. Tried to wash it off. It didn’t wash off. I look closer. There’s a divot in my finger – a gouge about the size and shape of a long-grain rice, with this tiny, hard scab. It’s deep (rice size), but it’s not red. It’s not sore. No blistering. Just a gouge with a tiny scab. I have no memory at all of hurting myself. I have no idea how long I’d had it (must have been some time, it was pretty much healed by the time I saw it. Or noticed it, rather.) And that scared the fuck out of me. I didn’t tell him about it. I didn’t want to see what he’d do to himself to top that.

Come to think of it, I think he did top it. Maybe a week later we were expecting an amazon delivery and his medication. The door buzzes, he goes to answer it. He thanks the amazon guy, sets the box next to the door and goes into the kitchen. I ask what the delivery is. He bitches that the medical people only delivered one box. I’m looking at the amazon box. I tell him its an amazon box. He says his dry goods delivery got shorted, he’s only got one box. He has gotten very forgetful lately. But that kind of confusion, I don’t know. I do know it happened after the oven incident.

I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. The problem with dealing with a known lier is you can’t tell when they’re telling the truth. And I’m sounding paranoid. One of the tells for getting gaslighted is you start thinking you’re crazy.

Or, as one of my ‘friends’ once said, maybe you are crazy.

I did have an appointment to have an MRI, before an as yet unset appointment with the memory people. I had a massive asthma attack and had to cancel the MRI. I asked him to call the memory people to see if I could still be seen without it. The front desk woman wanted to ‘reschedule’ the (as yet unset) appointment for six months. Partner said that the decision was above her pay grade and to have the doctor call. The doctor has not called. He has not followed up on it. They already ‘lost’ me once, missing two years of follow-ups. I guess I’m going to get lost again. I could call, myself, of course. But for two things. I’ve developed some weird-ass phone phobia. And I have a real hard time with accents, I have to watch people’s lips.

One of the reasons I put these two incidences on this post was to help me remember them when I ever get to see the memory clinic again. It may not matter.

I’m tired. Not necessarily physically tired, but emotionally tired. I don’t feel like I have any endurance left. I can’t just keep on fighting it.

I’m also having some language problems and the social problems that come from it. But that is for another post.

MWSA

It’s been a rough week. For a change, it’s not my partner who’s giving me a hard time. He’s been really nice these last few months. I don’t expect it to last. No, it’s not him. It’s everything else.

World events. I read and watch the news. Since Trump got elected president, the world has gone to hell in a handbasket. I am not a Trump fan. I do try to keep an open mind. Just one example: I figured, no one had ever tried to out-crazy Kim Jong Un before, maybe it’ll work? I kept giving him excuses. I did try. But it was like every time he opened his mouth, he said something that got my back up. … anyway, I hadn’t planned on this being an anti-Trump post. I wanted to touch on the tariff thing he has going on with China.

He keeps telling people how the tariffs will mean China has to pay us more. How they will pay for our commodities. Over and over, until it got to the point where I wasn’t sure how tariffs worked anymore.

This is called gaslighting. Being told something so often and repeatedly, that you come to believe it, even though you know it’s not true.

It’s not just Trump and his menagerie of sycophants who are currently and continuously in the news, as disgusting as they all are. But then there’s Alabama* putting a life sentence on doctors who give women abortions. I felt physically sick when I’d heard. Women are not going to stop from having and enjoying sex (sorry guys, that horse got loose a long time ago). What this law is going to do is make women go to dangerous lengths to stop a pregnancy. My grandmother had a wire clothes hanger termination when she was 17. My great-grandmother did it. Now, women only need to take a pill. The ‘fruits’ of rape do not have to be born. And one of those places that will sell you that pill is China. Unfortunately, they don’t have any regulations on how safe these pills need to be. But when you’re against a wall, a lot of women will take the chance.

It makes me sick thinking of the unholy choices women are going to have to make.

Then there are the deaths of Doris Day and Tim Conway. Two people I admired even though I never met them. Their deaths make me sad.

Then there’s Barr, for god sakes, the damn head of the DOJ, spouting conspiracy theories. And Trump saying now that Meuller has turned in the report, any further action is treason. Investigate the investigators! I’ve read the Meuller report, all of it. Repeatedly saying ‘no collusion, no obstruction’ is just another attempt at gaslighting. I’m getting gaslit from my partner, I sure in hell don’t need it from my president, too.

I’m not sleeping well. My stomach hurts from tension. I keep getting stabbing temple headaches. ‘Mindfulness’ is a placebo that isn’t working. Even my mental safe place isn’t working. I feel shattered. Cracked just enough to have all hope slowing seeping out my eyes.

And this word, ’embolden’. I don’t like this word, I don’t think it’s accurate enough. Reporters saying; so-and-so was emboldened by Trump policy… No. These people have always been here. They’ve always had brass balls. They’ve always slug their tar and sludge. They’re not ’emboldened’. They are enabled – empowered.

This week, I feel shattered. There’s too much going on and I feel overwhelmed. Beaten up. Enough. The world needs to go sane again. MWSA. yup yup.

*for some reason, I published Alabama as Virginia. Senior moment! Corrected.

Gaslighting

Scent.

A while ago, my partner bought a sheepskin rug. He comes in and hands it to me, saying: I bought this for me to sit on the floor with, but realized I hadn’t bought anything for you lately, so I’m giving it to you.

I said thanks, but didn’t say ‘what do you feel guilty about?’ heh. I felt it, nice and thick, the skin part very soft and supple, dyed black. I smell it, to see if there’s any lingering animal smell. And choke on the chemical smell, geeze it was strong. ‘It smells like chemicals’, I say, setting it down on the chair as far from me as I can get. He looks at me blankly, as if I’d said something totally insane. Later, he borrows it, and when he brings it back, he puts it at the head of the bed. I didn’t see it for a while, but when I did, I moved it back to the chair. The bedroom smells faintly of chemicals, but it was okay with the window open. He borrows it again the next day and when he returned it, he put it on my pillow. Again, I didn’t notice it for a while and when I did, moved it back to the chair. Suspiciously, I sniffed my pillow and gag, it stank. And he does it again, the following day. And every day, when I tell him it stinks, he says nothing. He doesn’t say ‘I don’t smell anything.’ Or ‘I can smell something, too.’ Just looks at me like I’m crazy and is mute.

I’m thinking of just giving it back to him, but before I do, he say’s he’ll buy me a new one, off amazon, and keep this one for himself.

Which he does. He put the black one on his bed, sleeping on it for several days. Then one day he comes in and says; I do notice a slight smell, like kerosene. I was pretty amazed he admitted to a smell, but for me, it was overwhelming, not ‘slight’. Is my sense of smell really that acute? Is his sense of smell that poor? Or am I getting gaslit? I suspect gaslit, because there’s just no way he couldn’t smell that.

The new one arrived, this one white. First thing I do is smell it. I hand it back and say it smells, too, but it smells organic, like it wasn’t cured properly. We go through the ‘you’re crazy’ stare and he puts it on his bed, on top of the black one. When I see that, I smell the white one, and yup, it now also stinks of chemical as well as organic.

The black one is now stink-free. I haven’t used it, its in the living room. I don’t know why I’m not using it, it’s pretty nice, really. Thinking about it now, I think he noticed the stink of the black one right off and though, Oooo, this will fuck with her breathing big time. I’ll ‘give’ it to her.

Taste.

We go through this every single time he cooks a meal. He’ll add so much seasoning, it’s barely edible. He loves salt, I’ve probably mentioned this previously, adding way too much to everything. But he also goes overboard with the pepper. And red chili pepper. Now, I didn’t grow up with red pepper, so a tiny bit goes a long way with me. He puts so much in, my lips blister. One meal, he puts two full red peppers in it. Then next, after my complaint, he puts in ‘only one’. Seriously, just a tiny bit of one is as much as I can take. But jalapenos? I’m all for that. He finds them ‘hot’, so I always go easy (or put none at all) in something he’s going to eat. You can add them if you want them, yeah?

He once made taco meat – adding so much taco seasoning the meat was black. It was gross. Potatoes, really how hard can it be? He always puts in so much oil I can moisturize my hands with it. But he always implies that it’s me that’s fucked up, not his cooking. I’ve gotten to the point I don’t say anything. If it’s just totally gross, I throw it out and don’t tell him.

Edit:

I’m going to add to this one, rather than make a new page on the same subject.

Continuing taste.

We reuse water bottles in our house. Filling the empty water bottle from the tap, we put them in the fridge to be used when cold. Our water supply is heavy in limestone. There are times when I feel like my tea has so many limestone flakes, that I can crunch it. My partner is the one who refills them and puts them in the fridge.

We’ve been drinking this water for close to 20 years. So a few days ago, I was shocked to taste my water. It was totally different. My first thought was bleach. It tasted of bleach. I sipped it again, to make sure I wasn’t imagining it. Yup, bleach. Is my partner poisoning me with fucking bleach? But maybe not bleach? I go in the kitchen, empty the bottle, and refill it directly from the tap. I taste it. It’s not as strong now, but still tastes kind of like bleach.

I bring it up with my partner.

What’s that stuff, not bleach but kind of like it, that’s put into water? He says ‘chlorine’, and I’m yeah, that’s it. Our water tastes like chlorine now. You should taste it.

He says; no, I believe you. Your taste is better than mine.

I don’t know how anyone couldn’t taste this. It smacks you in the face. I’m thinking I want to call our water supplier and ask them what’s going on. (I’m wondering if chlorine dissolves limestone? Would they put it in to do that, and improve their water quality?)

Two days later, the water tastes normal again. For sure, my dear husband didn’t add something to the water, it must have been an accident by the water company. But it just goes to show you my mental state, that the first thing I think of is I’m being poisoned with bleach.