A few weeks ago, I called into my voicemail to record a classic rant. Since then, I’ve been deciding on whether or not to post here. It was a minor nothing situation. Those are usually the kind that create such an intense ongoing out loud battle with no one. Just him ranting and raving to no one and to no end…just to be heard.
Let me paint this scenario. It was a Sunday evening, approximately 6:00pm. This is his day off and as of late he has been using these days to do absolutely nothing except lay on the couch, watch full seasons of whatever tv show strikes his fancy on Netflix, getting up only to get something to eat and go to the bathroom.
When he watches television…the volume is on – if you’re not deaf now you will be in a half hour – and because the bulk of his day is basically him sprawled out on the couch, the kids and I usually utilize that time and stay in our rooms. But when I came down to start dinner he decided it was time for company. So now he calls my son down…who is undoubtedly on the laptop which is where he spends most of his downtime. We all know this “company” time is completely uncomfortable yet we all have conformed to placate him to a certain degree of our unrest just to keep him silent. My son comes down and like any normal human with normal hearing asks him in a normal tone of voice to lower the volume. My husband did go to lower the volume via remote but it wasn’t budging. Either he was hitting the wrong button or the batteries got loose (like when you have to whack the remote a couple of times and then the buttons work again). Whatever the situation, my son asked again and that’s pretty much what set him off.
Warning: This may be a trigger for those who can no longer tolerate a man screaming and cursing. Below is a transcript of the bullshit. And let me just say…this went on for at least a half hour. I made a four minute recording for this post because that’s all I can tolerate.
“…But no that’s not good enough, that’s not good enough. They start me up and then I go crazy. And then they say about it…oh look he started, he’s doing this, or look at that, look at him, look at the way he’s talking, the way he’s fighting. But does anybody hear me explain what the fuck is going on? I’m not doing nothing wrong? But no…”
Me interjecting…”All he said was to lower the volume, he didn’t know the remote wasn’t working!”
“If I’m trying to lower the fucking volume in front of his face … are you fucking an idiot? You know. Don’t come downstairs if you are going to be like a fucking dick. But he can’t come down now. You know. This is what I mean. Don’t do that to my mind. Why are you doing that to my mind? What did I do wrong? I couldn’t lower down the fucking thing? I couldn’t lower the fucking volume down? You know. Fucking idiots. That’s how it’s going to be all fucking day now (note…this was already 6:30pm). They can’t listen to me, they can’t hear me? But no…then they start me up. That’s how I do it. That’s how I do it now.”
“I just have to go crazy in this house. My head is… Again, I was quiet. I was relaxed. I was happy. Then here comes this guy from upstairs with an atti-fucking-tude that … I hope he’s not on the computer. I swear I hope he’s not on the computer. Cause if he is on the computer… I break it today. I’ll let you know that right now.”
My son interjects… “I’m not on the computer I’m laying down…okay?!”
“…He comes down here with an attitude, you know what? Do me a big fucking favor…don’t come down here. I was here all fucking day without a word coming out of my fucking mouth. I was happy. I ate my ice cream. I made a little sandwich. I watched my tv show. I’m laying down. BOOM…comes down with an attitude. Why the fuck is he coming down with an attitude? Because I couldn’t lower the fucking lower the fucking thing on time? And then when I say something he’s got a fucking bitch attitude? But no this is better…me…right now, right? This is what you like hearing…me every time going crazy, right? I guess so. I guess so … because you always do it. Always do it. Bunch of idiots. A whole bunch of idiots. Let’s hope I try to relax. Nobody can say, you know what…he’s happy. Let me start him up. Nobody can say you know what, let me shut the fuck up, let me not say nothing to him (?) … You got me. I wasn’t doing nothing wrong…you know? But no. They had to find something. The remote control. The remote control was not operating right. You know? Then I’m wrong. I am wrong. You know?”
There you have it. This can pretty much go on any day, any time, for an undetermined length of time. This is what I deal with nowadays in lieu of beatings. Joy.
To read from the beginning… my story starts here.