Older Rant … New to the Blog

I wrote this quite some time ago in response to the ’straw that broke the camel’s back’ in running our business.  Of course, we are still here and still putting up with a lot of crap, but most days aren’t so bad.  Must excuse angry language!!

We are human beings. Yes, we are your AGENTS, but we are still human beings. We are also business owners, sick and tired. After only 5 years of being newsagents, dealing with suppliers who think we should be machines (or should be earning enough – HA – to afford machines to do our work) I, personally, am THIS close to going POSTAL!!

This particular flip-out comes after months of begging, being nice, getting angry and ultimately being ignored. And YES you have ignored us!! The delivery driver who drops the CM Inserts off on Fridays is a fucking jerk!! Never mind that he can’t remember to put the bundles of papers up against the wall in front of our shop (since he is not willing to bring them inside). Never mind that he, nevertheless, manages to deliver the bundles to the agent across the road, not just into the same place every week, but INSIDE their wrapping area!! Never mind that he doesn’t even show us the courtesy of bringing the delivery dockets into the shop so that we might verify that we have received the correct delivery. Never fucking mind that we have asked him, begged him and told him that we would like the bundles stacked against the front wall of the shop AND would he also please let us know when the delivery has been made. NOOOOOOOOO!! This guy has got issues with us —- personal issues —– that are irrelevant to his JOB, yet they seem to affect his JOB. It would serve you well to ensure your employees and contractors – who represent YOU – behave as if we were human and as if they were representatives, not fucking GOD.

I’ve personally had enough. Actually, I’ve had enough for quite some time now, only since we foolishly borrowed to get into a business that boasted 1% failure rate, and the terms on those loans extend over the term of a quarter of my life, and we overestimated my ability to manage a store AND complete the bookwork, it would appear that we had best make do with what we have. BTW now I know why it boasts a 1% failure rate!! Without being a franchise, with franchising laws to guide and to protect, our business is ‘guided’ (read: dictated to) by our main suppliers.

And what, exactly do we have?? A big fucking debt, a little spending money, Somewhere to be every day. A roof over our heads. Some pretty good customers. Some real bastard customers. Poor, very very very poor suppliers. AND not enough fucking good drugs to deal with it all.

Of course, there’s good and bad in every business. And of course, yes, we should just suck it up and take it. But you know what?? NOPE ‘m not taking it laying down. I want you to acknowledge that we are human. I want to be treated as a human with basic respect and courtesy. And you know what, we damned well deserve more respect for what we do as your agents. And let’s not even go into the financial investment that should be expected, because none of our other major suppliers give a flying fuck either. I’m just going to start with you. Say it with me, “You are human too and deserve to be treated with respect and courtesy as any other human being does.” If you can’t bring yourself to say that (and mean it AND really believe it), then you, sir, are no human yourself. And you most certainly should not expect pleasantries from this particular human being.

 

Torn in Turmoil

I’ve spent most of today (at work, in between customers) writing pages and pages about my current issue (according to the writing, though, there are a couple issues).  And it didn’t change anything.  Well, ok, maybe a little, since I DID come home afterall.  The worst thing about this particular issue is I know it is not blown out of proportion by hormones (which would usually be the case).

Of course, the problem could be (is likely) me, myself.  The way I deal with things is sometimes overly emotional and maybe even a little immature.  But just being aware of these things does not make it any easier to spot, stop and control my reactions at the time of implosion.  Perhaps it is the chemicals in my brain again, meaning I need to go get some pills to fix it.  But maybe this turmoil is something that can’t be cured with a pill.  Or maybe it can.  It worked last time.  For like 12 months, the pills sorted the brain chemicals and I felt normal.  No freak outs, no over-reactions to things (aside from the normal hormonal issues I have every month anyway), that was, until about a month after I stopped taking them (thinking I was much better).  And now that I think about it, it might be the right thing to do to go back on the pills.

Because, no matter how much I wrote today (and it was a LOT!), I seemed to be going round and round in circles.  Backwards and forwards over the same things.   And always coming to the same conclusion.  The best course of action (and least troubling for everyone involved – and this was before I thought about the pills) is to suck it up.  Compromise and make the necessary sacrifices that everyone else has to make in order for relationships to work.

It doesn’t seem so hard.  Except it is.  Because I’m a selfish, self-centred person who wants to have everything my own way to feel happy with my life.  Because my life is disappointing.  Not going anywhere.  Aww shit.

The boy

I told Mr today that I didn’t want to go home.  (I am at home now, just so you know).  But when I said it, I meant it.  I’m tired and unsatisfied and unsettled and I have been all these things on and off for some time now, but it all came to a head last night. 

The boy came home late last night (he IS 21, so that’s not the problem!!) and, being blind rotten drunk*, bashed the back door in to get inside.  It frightened the shit out of me, especially considering his history with alcohol/drug induced ‘episodes’.  And my personal fear of violent drunks (actually, it’s more like a fear of anyone who is extremely drunk because they might become violent).

*Now, to be fair, he says he only had a few drinks and it appears that one of his drinks may have been spiked.  He’s not feeling terribly well today (erratic heart rate, sweats, nausea and whatnot) and he went to the doc for some tests, so we will know more about that early next week.

The thing is, though, the boy has a problem with alcohol.  At least, that’s my opinion.  Not that something memorable happens every time he drinks, but there have been a number of occasions where he has been very scary.  And he doesn’t remember anything of any of these ‘episodes’.  He once called home for someone to pick him up in such a state, and, not recognising either me or his girlfriend when we arrived, he freaked out and ran the other direction, screaming obscenities at us.  His mates brought him home during another episode, after he had physically attacked one of them in a blind rage.  One of his best mates – and he didn’t remember it. 

I can’t begin to describe how traumatic it is to watch him in that state.  And how scary it is to be anywhere near him at that time.  Because he doesn’t actually know what he is doing (and he won’t remember it later), and because I genuinely feel he is capable of seriously hurting someone while he is in the grips of an episode.

Look, it doesn’t happen every time he drinks.  In fact, I have only seen him like that a handful of times within the last 12 months or so.  But I told him about my fear of violent drunks just recently and he seemed to understand and respect my feelings.  But lately, there has been just a little more alcohol in the house.  Just a few more nights out on the piss. 

And when he came home like that last night, and broke in the back door, I was scared.  Irrational though it might be, I lay awake for some time, wondering how bad he really was (because I was told to stay in bed, I didn’t see him) – was he bad enough that he might come into our bedroom and hurt us?  The normal boy wouldn’t (and he didn’t), but I just don’t know what the episode boy is capable of.

So when I woke up this morning, after a fitful sleep, I was all kinds of messed up.  In the head, I mean.  I wanted out.  Out of the house, out of the family, away from everything.  By myself.  And I couldn’t explain any of this to Mr (because I also have issues with communication) to help him understand why I didn’t want to come home, so all I told him was that I was scared of the boy and I didn’t want to go home.

But I never want to hurt Mr.  Especially not with my selfishness.  And so I came home.  Logically, I knew there was nothing to be scared of about coming home tonight to Mr and the boy (now sobered up and feeling quite ill).  But I also know that it’s only good until the next time he comes home drunk.

Of course, recognising that I already had ongoing issues (tired and unsatisfied and unsettled), I was already a bomb waiting to go off.  But is this all a trigger or just an excuse to act out?

New Link – Pt 2

Well I finished reading all of Submissive Reflections now.  It’s been an amazing journey and I’m a little sad to have come to the end, especially when Sarah is so busy with her new little one.  I highly recommend reading the entire archives if you visit her site.  That’s pretty much all I have to share about the new link for now.

New Link

While I am here and I have the chance, I just wanted to share a link to a blog I have been reading lately.

Submissive Reflections is written by Sarah McBroden.  It basically started as a sex blog, and I have only reached the middle of 2005 in Sarah’s journey, but it’s amazing to see the growth and change she has experienced since starting the blog.  I should warn those who are closed-minded that some of the content is a touch graphic (especially if you have a vivd imagination), but Sarah has thoughtfully provided warnings in the necessary places.

The attraction to this particular blog is the affinity I feel with Sarah’s emotional turmoil.  And judging by the comments that have been left, I am not alone.  The real difference that makes Submissive Reflections stand out is the uniquely articulate nature of Sarah’s writing.  Now, there is a woman who knows herself (and her now husband, Mac) extremely well.  And she has an amazing gift for, not only memory recall, but the ability to translate the jumble of thoughts and feelings into exquisite detail.

I am perhaps unduly influenced by the moods of any given entry, just as I am in any other situation where emotions run high.  But who wouldn’t wish for the talent to be able to communicate so effectively?

Back to Normal

It’s been a while.  Things happen and, as much as they change, they stay the same.  I’ve had some reservations about writing, feeling like I don’t have the necessary material to be interesting enough for the read.  Thing is, I have had interesting stuff (ok, psycho stuff) in my head quite frequently and it would have been quite lengthy in the writing, but it’s never made it this far yet.  That’s something that takes access and patience, of which I have neither sometimes.

In fact, the psycho stuff has come more frequently of late than it has for quite some time.  It comes and goes, the anger and the frustration.  My darling cops the brunt of most of the anger and all of the frustration, and I am proud to say he is extremely patient and understanding, oftentimes helping me sort out the issues. 

Of course, I am aware of the triggers (hormones and insecurity) but I just can’t seem to help myself.  And the worst thing is, I stew on things.  I think and think and overanalyse every little thing that bugs me, which builds on the frustration and, subsequently, the anger.  How to be aware of these things and not be able to control them? 

But I do have fantastic distractions!  There’s my darling (how lucky I am), there’s work (long hours, dealing with customers), there’s my friends and siblings with their individual dramas (it’s a long list) and there’s my sometime online friends (they are amazing people – my kind of people).  You might be able to tell, though, right now things are good.  I’m feeling somewhat normal and without any real complaint.

Of course that could all change with a look.  Oh, I exaggerate lol.  I’m tonka tough

Cruel and Unusual

My father-in-law passed away this week.  I only knew him for 5 of his 70 years but I knew he was a good man.  I intended on being strong and just being there to support Mr and the boys and the family.  That’s not so easy really, unless you are without compassion.  But I care.  I care that he was a good man who spent 50 years with his wife and their children.  (I didn’t even know there were four!)  I care that he spent a big part of his life in pain – his own and his daughter’s physical pain and his family’s emotional torment. 

He served 20+ years in the Air Force, and it was Vietnam that ultimately killed him.  Now I don’t know much about what happened there or how the defence forces provide for the returned servicemen, but I do know that they still don’t accept responsibility for the suffering of the servicemen and their families, caused by the chemicals used in Vietnam.  And I know that that hurt my father-in-law very much. 

I hadn’t known Mr very long before his sister died, but I was with him and his parents that night.  I saw how much they all hurt.  They were open in their grief.  She had suffered for a long time in her short life, having been conceived after Vietnam, thereby being exposed to the chemicals that caused the cancer.  And my father-in-law, I think, blamed himself a little and he was rightly angry that the defence forces wouldn’t accept any responsibility.  I never heard much more about that issue in the years after, but I still wonder if anyone is fighting the fight for those that have suffered so much for the service of their country in Vietnam.

We visited infrequently at the start of our relationship, but we watched Mr’s father getting gradually worse and worse.  And we never talked about it.  That’s Mr’s way, I guess.  He sorts things out in his head with himself.  I don’t know where that comes from, but it makes it hard.  I suppose I do the same thing, because I dealt with my feelings about Mr’s father somewhere in my head.  But I was scared for him and for Mr and for his mum.  How were they dealing with it?  What were they feeling?  I had no idea.  Each visit was just a visit with general chit-chat and never about what was going to happen.  But then, the cancer was always there and so I guess it was inevitable what was going to happen.  Just had to deal with it as best we could – each in their own way.

He was in a nursing home with little independence and less dignity at the end.  It’s shocking to watch someone suffer like that.  And Mr and I have made it clear that neither of us want to have to live like that.  My father-in-law should never have had to survive that.  And his family should never have been made to witness it.  I know absolutely that if he had had his choice, he would never have gone as far as the nursing home.

My grandma was in a nursing home at the end.  She had Parkinson’s / Alzheimer’s / dementia which meant she could no longer take care of herself.  Over 70 years raising a family and gaining independence and surviving what life had thrown at her, and she was reduced to a ghost in a wheelchair, unable to care for her own basic needs or to recognise her own children and grandchildren.  I thought then that it was cruel to keep her alive like that, and my father-in-law’s awful death reinforced that belief. 

It’s the idea that they are trapped in their bodies, their mind knowing what is happening to them but not being able to do something about it.   Not having a choice.  It’s awful and it’s no way to live.  You couldn’t even call it survival.  Modern medicine provides a way to ease physical pain, but nobody can say whether or not somebody suffering at the end of their life knows what is going on around them.  We should all have a choice in deciding when it is enough.  They should have had the choice.

I know it’s still fresh now, and that we are still dealing with his passing each in our own way.  He told me after our last visit to the nursing home that he was angry about his dad suffering like he was, especially after watching his sister go through the same thing not so long ago.  That was a big thing for him to share with me and it helps me see a little of what he’s dealing with.  He’s not an emotional person, so it’s hard for me to connect with him, and to know how he’s coping.  The best I can do is just be here for him, to support him and to deal with my emotions as best as I can without upsetting him.  And I’m trying.

For Me

It’s been kind of difficult to write.  So many things going on – good and bad and indifferent – but there’s the question of what to write about.  After some talking with Mr, I was reminded that Inner Turmoil is about me, for me. 

I’ve been so worried about hits and what people think and what they might say that I forgot the purpose of writing here.  Probably more reason to keep the writing private (i.e. in a diary).  But typing is easier and just remembering this is my outlet has made it easier for me to deal with things.  Knowing there’s an outlet for the times when I can’t talk to someone about things.

And I have things to get out. 

It’s All Been Said Before

On the subject of children from broken homes, please read this entry by another blogger.  It’s another POV on the subject which I am sure grandparents will understand.

The Innocents – Epilogue

That last post was edited and re-edited to attempt to remove myself from the situation, but the truth is, those two little ones are my niece and nephew.  Their story saddens and frustrates me, and it affects my family.  In fact, it makes me bloody angry, and I’m still stewing onit. 

This blog idea was supposed to be a place for me to come to vent all my frustration and anger about things that are bugging me.  I failed to vent sufficiently (probably because of the editing), but then, this topic is one which cannot be written off as an annoying issue.  It cannot be solved or changed just by writing about it.

It was suggested to me that I send a copy of that post to government representatives and departments that it would relate to.  I don’t know what it would be worth to them (probably nothing more than words), but is it possible to make someone in authority see the human side of the issue?  If that’s possible, then I will track down those contacts and forward a copy to them.  Mind you, I am pretty sure they have heard many similar stories, first-hand even, and yet these situations keep occurring.  How relevant to their paperwork and legislation is the human factor?

 Is there anyone out there experiencing similar frustrations?  What is there to be done, besides pleading with the authorities, and short of kidnapping?  Any and all ideas and thoughts are encouraged, for the sake of the innocents.