Nyssa's Hobbit Hole

Date: December 11, 2012

My Husband, Marvin the Paranoid Android

For example, tonight’s exchange:

Me: “We’ve come so far.  In 1965 [watching an episode of Donna Reed about her rebelling against being “just a housewife”], it was assumed women would get married and be housewives rather than anthropologists etc.”

Hubby: “Yes, but now men’s wages don’t go as far, so women have to work.  But then, I’m just negative.”

Me: “The sky is blue!”

Hubby: “It’s dark when I get out of work, so that’s all I see.  And it will be that way for the next six months!”

Me: “Six months?  We’re almost to the solstice!  The sun will start coming up sooner and going down later.”

Hubby: “Already?  So I’ll get old and die very soon!”

Workplace Bullying Leads to Suicide of Gentle, Quiet Man

Prison Guard’s Suicide Raises Questions at DOC

This is why, when someone complains of being bullied, they need to be taken seriously.  I’ve been bullied at various times in my life by various people, and have had thoughts of suicide or just not wanting to live anymore.  But I have fought through it and survived.

Some, however, are not so strong.  This man was almost ready to retire but couldn’t handle the bullying.  Now his wife and child are dealing with the pain of losing this beloved man.  On Sunday’s episode of Sister Wives, Robyn, who was previously in an abusive marriage, said,

“I was in an abusive relationship, and I was abused,” she said. “And people gave him the benefit of the doubt over and over again.

“Sometimes when you don’t see what’s right before you and accept that there’s something wrong going on, then it continues to happen.  And that’s what happened to me.” —Brown Kids Help Escaped FLDS Youth, Sister Wives Defend Polygamy

Of course, the people charged with bullying Otto, are denying it and claim that they’re the victims of a witch hunt.  I’m not buying it.

A Good Day for Healing from Abuse

Today was a good day, good for healing from abuse.  I work in the library at my son’s school for an hour each week.  Today there were no books to shelve, so I was given the job of folding programs for the Christmas program tomorrow.  Another volunteer worked with me, and we had a good chat.

Then afterwards, even on such a cold day as this, I found the two other parents in our “kaffeeklatch” talking outside, “Melissa” and “Brad.”

Brad has a daughter at this school, and Melissa has a son.  Melissa lives in the complex down the block from mine, and whenever the weather is really bad, she drives my son to school.  (Normally, he walks, and I don’t have a car.)

We like to either grab the one park bench, or stand some place while our kids play after school.  We seem to be the only ones who do this, considering the jokes made by teachers who come by.  Things like, When our kids leave that school, they’ll have to put a memorial plaque on the bench.

I don’t say much myself as the other ones chatter away, but sometimes Melissa will leave and Brad will stay, and we’ll talk for a while.  But even if I don’t say much, I listen, and gather up all sorts of information which I store in my memory banks.

(Maybe that’s why I occasionally hear “I don’t know you that well” from people I know quite well.)

It’s little things like this that help in healing, as I feel less alone, more connected to the outside.  It may not be a big deal to most people, but it is to people like me.

 

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