WARNING: RANTING AHEAD
Last night I was forced to out myself to my own father about my tickling fetish, along with a few other things that have been hiding in the closet.
Last night my dad came into the room, pointed at my laptop and demanded that I shut it down.
Uh oh. I'm seriously in for it.
He slaps me in the face with a 2 page set of rules and a strict routine schedule that I'm supposed to put in place and follow for me and for my son.
He actually spent time typing this up and printing it off.
Clearly, I haven't been living up to anyone's expectations, and this is a perfect example of the fact that they don't talk to me about these sorts of things. They just hold onto it for awhile, and then just explode on me with something like this. A fucking LIST? I can understand, I totally can, but why can't you just talk to me about these things as they come, rather than typing me up a whole list? It's two pages of "this is why you fail"
I never used to doubt myself and my parenting abilities. I'm experienced in this department in many ways. It wasn't until these last few weeks with all these subtle and snide remarks and comments that I am truly beginning to doubt my ability to raise my own son. I know that I shouldn't. My dad has never been given the opportunity to raise any of his four girls. my stepmom has a son who is the same age as me and times have changed, no?
Besides, its my fucking kid.
What I find really unfair is the lack of faith in me. They under the impression that my last trip to Toronto was just a lie and an excuse to go and party with my friends. When I was actually going down for job interviews. That was priority number one and the only reason why I wanted to go down. So now if I want to go down to jobhunt or even for an interview, I have to take Charlie with me.
My use of the internet is being limited to certain times of the day, and he actually has gone out of his way to program it to coincide with this schedule that I'm supposed to follow. My sleeping, eating, and daily routine is all planned and allotted by the hour. so is my sons. (Seriously? TWO naps a day?!)
By doing this, my ability to job hunt and search for apartments and network with people is being SEVERELY limited. (As I'm writing this, I have about 16 minutes til I get cut off again)
Basically, I have more to do now and a whole hell of a lot less time to do it.
I've also been given a deadline. I have until the end of August. (what a great birthday present, eh?) and I have to be out.
No pressure, huh? I have a month and a half to do everything, and no time in the day to do it all. Because it's not part of the schedule.
I've also been restricted on having visitors, going out, and an even stricter curfew in place. If I didn't feel isolated enough before, I sure do feel it now. I have (let me count) ONE friend in this city. One really truly good friend who constantly goes WAY out of his way to help me when I need it, support me and just generally be there for me during this whole scary transition. And now I can't even spend time with him.
Speaking of isolated. As it stands now, my stepmother works for the company out of the basement, and I'm expected to keep Charlie quiet during business hours. Because the basement level of the house is the size of the entire upstairs level, no matter where I am in the house, you can hear me. And my noisy kid. Thus, I'm now confined to ONE room in the entire house, because its the sun room and it's just an attachment of the house. It's also the hottest room in the whole house. But what can I do?
Some of these restrictions are frustrating and contradicting. Let me give an example.
According to the schedule, Charlie's next nap should be happening right now. But one of the new rules is no giving the baby a bottle in his crib. His room is right above the office. So basically, I'm expected to put Charlie down for a nap at 10am, without a bottle, and have him not scream and cry? Really?
So I'm already breaking the rules and the routines because I have to keep him quiet. and I can't give him a bottle. He's 10 months old and I can't give him a fucking bottle?! Now he's tired and cranky, and confined to the hottest room in the house. Perfect.
*
"If you are out past 11pm, the door will be locked"
Really? so what about last night when I was locked out of the house WITH MY SON, between 9 and 10pm? How about the fact that I've gone out maybe THREE TIMES since I moved in? Can I not just have a key?
*
My dad is ex-military, can you tell?
I can't even do laundry during the day for some reason. Not "during business hours"
Is this a home or a company? I'm really not sure anymore.
AND
After all these rules and regulations have been laid in place, my dad asks me two questions.
"Do you think I'm stupid?"
"No, Dad,"
"Then can you please explain to me a little more about this group of people you've been associating with?"
After the most grueling conversation ever, I was basically forced to out myself to my dad (and all of you guys too, I'm afraid) and while my dad is surely not being judgemental, he doesn't understand how difficult it was to explain this whole part of me that I'd never told anyone in my family about, let alone my estranged father. He doesn't think its wierd. He actually compares it to my sister coming out as a lesbian. Which is good, I guess. But still. I really didn't appreciate being cornered like that.
After all this was said and done, I fucking freaked out about not being able to smoke. Everyone in the house decided to quit smoking all at once. (Except they are going through some laser therapy to assist with it, I'm on my own)
My dad pulls me outside, goes to his truck, hands me three cigarettes, lights two, and gives me one.
"And if you tell on me, I'll fucking kill you," he says.
So much for quitting, huh Daddy?
Okay, I'm running out of internet time now. and I have to get "back on the routine" or else I'm in for it. I have two pages of crap to read up on, and catch up on, I guess.
Bottom line: I NEED to get out of HERE.
And now its becoming more difficult than ever, plus a deadline.
And no one to help me.
No pressure though. Right?
If anyone needs me, I'll be confined to one room in the house with no way to accomplish anything.
Last night I was forced to out myself to my own father about my tickling fetish, along with a few other things that have been hiding in the closet.
Last night my dad came into the room, pointed at my laptop and demanded that I shut it down.
Uh oh. I'm seriously in for it.
He slaps me in the face with a 2 page set of rules and a strict routine schedule that I'm supposed to put in place and follow for me and for my son.
He actually spent time typing this up and printing it off.
Clearly, I haven't been living up to anyone's expectations, and this is a perfect example of the fact that they don't talk to me about these sorts of things. They just hold onto it for awhile, and then just explode on me with something like this. A fucking LIST? I can understand, I totally can, but why can't you just talk to me about these things as they come, rather than typing me up a whole list? It's two pages of "this is why you fail"
I never used to doubt myself and my parenting abilities. I'm experienced in this department in many ways. It wasn't until these last few weeks with all these subtle and snide remarks and comments that I am truly beginning to doubt my ability to raise my own son. I know that I shouldn't. My dad has never been given the opportunity to raise any of his four girls. my stepmom has a son who is the same age as me and times have changed, no?
Besides, its my fucking kid.
What I find really unfair is the lack of faith in me. They under the impression that my last trip to Toronto was just a lie and an excuse to go and party with my friends. When I was actually going down for job interviews. That was priority number one and the only reason why I wanted to go down. So now if I want to go down to jobhunt or even for an interview, I have to take Charlie with me.
My use of the internet is being limited to certain times of the day, and he actually has gone out of his way to program it to coincide with this schedule that I'm supposed to follow. My sleeping, eating, and daily routine is all planned and allotted by the hour. so is my sons. (Seriously? TWO naps a day?!)
By doing this, my ability to job hunt and search for apartments and network with people is being SEVERELY limited. (As I'm writing this, I have about 16 minutes til I get cut off again)
Basically, I have more to do now and a whole hell of a lot less time to do it.
I've also been given a deadline. I have until the end of August. (what a great birthday present, eh?) and I have to be out.
No pressure, huh? I have a month and a half to do everything, and no time in the day to do it all. Because it's not part of the schedule.
I've also been restricted on having visitors, going out, and an even stricter curfew in place. If I didn't feel isolated enough before, I sure do feel it now. I have (let me count) ONE friend in this city. One really truly good friend who constantly goes WAY out of his way to help me when I need it, support me and just generally be there for me during this whole scary transition. And now I can't even spend time with him.
Speaking of isolated. As it stands now, my stepmother works for the company out of the basement, and I'm expected to keep Charlie quiet during business hours. Because the basement level of the house is the size of the entire upstairs level, no matter where I am in the house, you can hear me. And my noisy kid. Thus, I'm now confined to ONE room in the entire house, because its the sun room and it's just an attachment of the house. It's also the hottest room in the whole house. But what can I do?
Some of these restrictions are frustrating and contradicting. Let me give an example.
According to the schedule, Charlie's next nap should be happening right now. But one of the new rules is no giving the baby a bottle in his crib. His room is right above the office. So basically, I'm expected to put Charlie down for a nap at 10am, without a bottle, and have him not scream and cry? Really?
So I'm already breaking the rules and the routines because I have to keep him quiet. and I can't give him a bottle. He's 10 months old and I can't give him a fucking bottle?! Now he's tired and cranky, and confined to the hottest room in the house. Perfect.
*
"If you are out past 11pm, the door will be locked"
Really? so what about last night when I was locked out of the house WITH MY SON, between 9 and 10pm? How about the fact that I've gone out maybe THREE TIMES since I moved in? Can I not just have a key?
*
My dad is ex-military, can you tell?
I can't even do laundry during the day for some reason. Not "during business hours"
Is this a home or a company? I'm really not sure anymore.
AND
After all these rules and regulations have been laid in place, my dad asks me two questions.
"Do you think I'm stupid?"
"No, Dad,"
"Then can you please explain to me a little more about this group of people you've been associating with?"
After the most grueling conversation ever, I was basically forced to out myself to my dad (and all of you guys too, I'm afraid) and while my dad is surely not being judgemental, he doesn't understand how difficult it was to explain this whole part of me that I'd never told anyone in my family about, let alone my estranged father. He doesn't think its wierd. He actually compares it to my sister coming out as a lesbian. Which is good, I guess. But still. I really didn't appreciate being cornered like that.
After all this was said and done, I fucking freaked out about not being able to smoke. Everyone in the house decided to quit smoking all at once. (Except they are going through some laser therapy to assist with it, I'm on my own)
My dad pulls me outside, goes to his truck, hands me three cigarettes, lights two, and gives me one.
"And if you tell on me, I'll fucking kill you," he says.
So much for quitting, huh Daddy?
Okay, I'm running out of internet time now. and I have to get "back on the routine" or else I'm in for it. I have two pages of crap to read up on, and catch up on, I guess.
Bottom line: I NEED to get out of HERE.
And now its becoming more difficult than ever, plus a deadline.
And no one to help me.
No pressure though. Right?
If anyone needs me, I'll be confined to one room in the house with no way to accomplish anything.
