What part of the contractor's brain was engaged when he screamed at me, threatened to cut off my fingers, and appeared as an out of control mad man? I don't know for sure, but I'm guess his frontal lobe wasn't in charge. I'm guessing he had an adrenaline dump, a feeling, an old memory sweep his brain into mid or lower brain function, and his actions seemed like the right thing to do. SEEMED to be what he needed to do to get empathy, care, connection with me, which is the absolute opposite of what he achieved. He drove the final wedge, and assured that part of his life, the most important part at that time, fell apart, degraded, and brought shame, humiliation... he was ejected by a very large man who didn't accept his dramatic antics, or threats, and would have humiliated him further by physically dominating him if he'd resisted.
Just terrible.
THAT isn't what he wanted.
I returned to the island, after my father's memorial service, feeling empathy for the C... feeling I would try to help him learn to help himself control his emotions.... I'd do balances on him, relieve stress on his brain, show him how to do it himself, and help him notice changes, if any, and support his journey to getting more of what he wanted, which looking back wasn't congruent to what I wanted.
It wasn't realistic, bc he couldn't respect boundaries or space..... but my goodness..... that man really needs help, and it's impossible not to identify how it would improve his life. That's not my problem, even though he would have been a fascinating case study.... I digress.
I couldn't stand being in his space, or 15 feet away from him, and I underestimated my ability to tolerate being in his space... it shut me down.... I avoided him... worked with intense focus, which drove him nuts, and things deteriorated predictably. What was going on in my life that lead to that particular crisis?
My father died while I was at the cottage working. The contractor was pressuring me/throwing tantrums/making demands I go back to the cottage, even while I was planning the service, and trying to handle regular cottage business, and his emotions... overwhelming on the best of days, and there had been violence, which always shuts me down, and switches me to survival mode... shaking, unable to eat, hyper alert.
I wasn't thinking clearly. My sister, who got along well with the contractor, wasn't thinking clearly either, bc memorial service. Planning. Mourning. My getting tormented affected her. She should have gone back to the cottage.... I shouldn't have gone, bc what happened was predictable IF we were thinking clearly, which we weren't.
On reflection, it's not just needing help that shuts me down. There's usually other moving parts involved, crisis, trauma, things out of my control.... fear.... unrelenting pressure..... having no down time to recover, etc. It's always a combination, and it's not correct to say it's simply when I need help, or have to ask for help, or have no control. And social anxiety. And fear of failure. Lots of things go into a very complex chain of events... it's never just one thing. Never. I need to identify those things, tease them apart, understand them, then learn to identify them, get back to center, THEN deal with them, and the situation from a position of strength, rather than reactivity, and negative emotional looping.
So... what is the magical combination of having a touchstone... a friend in our lives to help steady us, feel Doc or Lionel or safe lovely friend IN our chests, with us.... helping us calm our brains and find our centers when overwhelmed.... and how does having that connection to "other" fit into calming our brains/engaging sympathetic nervous system?
It's like falling off a shelf.... dropping off the frontal lobe, down into mid brain, maybe right into lower brain. The touchstone is at the edge, and can help us steady ourselves. IS CENTERING. Reminds us we have strengths, and ability, when fear and doubt threaten to sweep us away. We know we can trust them, and they see US, our flaws, but most importantly they see our skills, and we see ourselves through their eyes, bc we're not alone, and left to our own devices... left to fall, and flail.
IF I could go back, what would I change about the scheduling woman at the Re Store? I wouldn't have let her fluster me with dramatic, raised voice accusations I KNEW weren't true. It was so humiliating to be accused like that. I would have produced my receipt, calmly found the place I paid for delivery, along with the date scheduled, and she wouldn't have continued to escalate, bc I was calmly stating the facts, which was a challenge to her, which shut me down more.
Her SEEING the receipt, correctly, would have been all it took to shut her down, get an apology, and new delivery date. Honestly, it served me to have a later delivery date. I COULD have benefited from that interaction, felt great about, and not carried all this negativing around with me all this time. In fact, just identifying a way to turn that INTO a positive,and understanding it was within my ability all along, helps me release the desire to (correctly) name call her a bitch.
It takes away a point of pain, that heightened the pain of the boss's son's death... he was my friend. I have one of his lovely wooden bowls... he was an artist, and he was sweet, and kind, and we got along very well. Chatted all the time, bc I was there all the time for a while. Now there's just that knot of loss, combined with lovely memories of the time we had, and the scheduling lady doesn't land on top of that with all the emotions it used to evoke.
Hmmm..... centered.
Now, I'm going to do that with regard to the contractor, which won't be quite so easy. More personalities involved. More being pushed to do things I didn't want to do, by many people, and a lot of not honoring myself/speaking my mind/enforcing boundaries, and asserting myself in ways I wanted to, and that's the beginning.
I'm pretty good at putting boundaries in place. I'm not great at enforcing them. It's a pattern.
I'm going to skip the obvious answer of NOT dealing with him at all, bc he really was calm, and acting normal, and had a lovely gf, which to me, meant he wasn't going to be pushing for relationship again. That problem seemed solved.
I think the contractor could have been held in check, his behavior kept in check,if I'd been dealing with him myself. My sister's involvement mean I was talked into allowing certain behaviors I wouldn't normally put up with. This tipped the scale, along with my father's death, and I lost my ability to cope, and navigate the eggshell walking mine field.
Contractor was a standard boundary trouncer... couldn't stand them. Gray rock, working hard, patting him on the head for jobs well done, and there were SO many..... worked for a while, though I was hyper sensitive to his immature, whiney complaining... I was coping.
Add the unrelenting heat. His failure to put together lists, so I didn't have to go back and forth to the other island to the hardware store.... in that heat..... and the whining... and my father's stroke... my sister convincing me to go along to keep the peace, when it was part of the slide into madness.... MY doing, not hers.... I get that too.....
on the final day I told my sister to STOP placating him! I'm not letting anything slide going forward. I'm done! And I was. At that point I told him I'd never comply bc he threatened me with violence or behaved badly....
his response....
"Oh, reaaaaally?"
Me: Ya. Really. With conviction. Without fear. Without second guessing myself. I was back in the zone. Centered. Sure of what would happen next. I was done walking on eggshells... eggshells suck. Come what may.... put him on a plane with his tools... done.
And then my sister flipped out, and demanded I fire him, and have him escorted off the job, which flipped me out all over again.
And I DID that. I didn't do it my way. I didn't get a chance to center myself, and think it through. I sent a text..... then several more, then he KNEW he was fired, and headed right to the house, to the place where he hid a key, where I'd just frantically found and pocketed it a minute ahead of him, and he hung up on my sister..... "SHE TOOK THE KEY" and she began calling me like crazy, while I freaked out wondering where my renter was, bc now I'm afraid contractor is going to physically assault me at this point.... I'm peeking out the side door, to get renter's attention in his cottage, and the contractor pops into my view.... I jump, and scream, bc hyperalert at this point, and the contractor walks towards me with purpose, and malice.... the renter walks out his door, and between the contractor and me.
Contractor wants ME to leave my property.... renter gets very quickly that this isn't going to be how this goes. I've already started getting tools together, finding hardware for hurricane shutters, bits, and such... making sure the things I bought are hidden... his notebook with expenses and what he's owed.... hidden...... and then contractor getting his tools together.... upset he can't fit all into his big tool box so he looks me in the eye, and throw/empties the box onto the tile floor..... malice coming out of his pores.... renter standing there, watching without emotion....... I'm frantic, at least on the inside... I think I probably looked pretty steady... I've had lots of practice having to.
At that point, contractor shifts... uses a little small helpless voice, asks renter if he can help him lift his heavy tool boxes... .gets renter busy on porch and RUNS BACK TO ME LIKE A LITTLE DEMON< shoves his chest into mine BLECK and makes squealing pig noises while telling me I'll have to move, he's going to run and my children out of our home, and make sure we have to sell the cottage, and I push him off me, with some force, and walk outside to where the renter is.
Contactor being sly, pretending to wish the best for me TO the renter... saying he wanted renter to help me finish project.... very sly. Very smart. Capable of control, at times. Informed me that he wasn't a nut..... he was calculating, and the crazy behaviors were about controlling me. I shouldn't have let him cross that first boundary, and that first boundary was crossed the day we were leaving.
I wanted to add a stop. I rented a trailer large enough to accomodate a golf cart. My brother had one, offered it that morning... was preparing to meet me, so I didn't have to go out of the way AND THEN THE CONTRACTOR FLIPPED OUT, bc he wanted to go somewhere on the way to the Port of Miami, which wasn't what I had planned.
Contractor whined and cried, and raged, and I didn't understand that he wanted to go to his "friend's" house to chill ax, and hang for a couple days. I had all that cargo going to the island... it was a solid plan to include the golf cart in that chaos, and we needed it..... it was the right thing to do, but contracter was refusing to go, and also in control of the electrictian.
I should have just let him quit, bc he would have laughed, pretended it was a joke, and fallen in line. I would have a golf cart on the island, and not have been firmly on the path of watching my boundaries get stomped, one after the other, at least not in the way I set up through that action.
And I feel much better about it all right now.
Finally enforcing boundaries was necessary... even though I hated it, and didn't do it quite my way... it had to happen. I wish I hand't allowed that first boundary transgression. I wish I'd have gray rocked better, at every moment, and selected my battles more carefully.
The first big problem on the island was over laundry.... a 10 minute walk to the marina, in 100 degree weather, carrying dirty laundry, the contractor dogging my every step, every day, every where I went.... I wanted to get the laundry into the machines and keep moving. HE wanted his laundry separate from thngs he considered icky... rugs, for instance. I should have let him figure out what went in which machine... what did I care? I cared. I put a rug in with his things, and he took it out and threw it at my head and face... hit me pretty hard, but what he did next was worse. He stomped out of the laundry center, whining, and fuming, and started texting me....
he was quitting. He was leaving the island. He was done. He had to go.
I texted back that I'd moved the laundry around... he was right... I figured out how to sort the laundry more efficiently, and wished he'd stayed to help, blah blah... no big deal. I would be back with clean laundry soon.... carry it myself in the heat.... laugh it off, no problem.... hitting me with the rug was no big deal... didn't notice... martial artist so I didn't even register it, blah blah... talked him out of his tree, as they say.
He wanted to go snorkeling WITH me, and was preparing to do it. The helper, who was contractor's lacky, and whipping boy, was very upset about C's upset, and trying to make peace... chatting me up like a little monkey out of nerves... he'd made C promise not to DO this, on pain of leaving the island if C made trouble like this, and then C began pacing around us.... I should have sensed he was building up to take center stage...again.
The next thing you know he's picking a fight with sweet unicorn hippy helper, pushes him into a post, hard, then grabs him by the throat, chokes him and has a death grip on his chin hairs.... I took a hammer OUT of C's hand during the struggle.... I remember screaming at him to let go..... I didn't strike him. It didn't ocur to me to strike him. He let go. Helper very angry... shouting C crazy.... he left and went to the other island.... I'm alone with C who's now crying he fucked up... hurt the only person he cares about blah blah.... and then he decides it's not really HIS fault at all.
"It's MY fault", he begins whining.......
I DO that TO him. It's MY fault... he sees it clearly now.
I should have gone snorkeling THEN, when he wanted, bc the tide was just right (bullshit) and he's not taking any responsibility at this point.
The truth was he wasn't getting attention, was jealous for 5 minutes, and decided he was going to PUNISH me and the helper, and was entitled to punish us. I suspect the punishment would have been the same for a minute transgression or 5 minute transgression... he wanted to make things OK after hitting me with the rug. He wanted to seal the deal where he was off the hook, and could feel OK again. THAT was his goal.
He says he's leaving the island... has to go.... I agree, and want to make that reservation... I think. I'd have done it, if he'd really asked.... it was so terrible..... I remember talking about what we were building... a place for both our families to go and make memories, an amazing feat.... and he calmed down, and agreed to stay after crying quite a bit. He cried a lot, now that I think about it. Not just that day. I went to my room, and when I came back out the next morning the chin hairs were all cleaned off the floor, and drunken helper was asleep on the sofa, safe.
Unicorn helper was quiet for days, but stayed. Eventually he shifted back into his placating posture with C, but he stayed away from me like I had the plague. I was the problem, of course I was. C killed the unicorn, is how it felt. I think I was talking about tye dyed socks, and a t shirt I liked when C decided to go full nutjob on us. In any case, I didn't deserve it. The unicorn didn't deserve it, but I wasn't so wise about choosing my battle that day. I wasn't so wise about being proactive with C regarding something he had his heart set on, and would have gotten everything back on track for the day.
In the end, I surprised C by filing for the TPO... he didn't think I would, and sneered and jeered about my making threats... he texted "the best you can do is kill me..." crazy.
Then he's in court, and I'm in court, and he has the unicorn by his side, and a very uncomfortable real estate attorney who knows nothing about being in front of a Judge. He sits with C and unicorn, instead of joining the other attorneys at the front tables.
I'm alone, and my attorney pops in close to lunch, about the time the Judge calls our case. The rest doesn't matter. I'm in my element then. I'm protected. I have support, my attorney is smart about separating us, so the stress is gone. I'm in a room two floors down.... there are deputies, and I'm pretty sure I'd win if C actually tried to hurt me.... I've been ready to defend myself. I wouldn't hesitate. C would be surprised. That would be a mistake.
So I'm dealing with the situation without fear, I have confidence, my frontal lobe is fully engaged, and I'm getting the deal I want, and I also get the TPO..... I don't have to go back in front of the Judge.... C does, and he almost blows it. His attorney knows enough to step in, speak for C, and get the deal done. I haven't heard a word from C since his "friend" who owns the place we stopped in at for a couple days at the beginning of that safari, has had words and eyes on C.
I know C showed his friend all the texts, which C, up to that point felt were PROOF of my vileness, and reason to harm me.... his friend saw them, saw his freind, heard his friend, and C never texted, called, or showed up again. His friend, who I happen to like, and know is a very stable sane fellow, talked him into understanding how serious the situation was, bc that was the end of that.
I will say this.... C's group of he man woman hater drinkingbuddies, one of which was his attorney that day in court, all believe that I deserved to be threatened with a knife, bc I wasn't "giving C enough empathy" for an injured finger. My attorney understood the level of crazy we were dealing with after she heard that. After she showed them all the e mails I'd copied, and provided, she showed the other attorney how little fun he'd have if he actually took any of this to court.
Now, I get to worry about the C sabotaging my vehicles, my home, my children, and dog.... I get to wonder if any strange chemical odors I notice are about him, or the In Laws, or something the girls are up to, or just my imagination.
This is what I get to do... I get to notice my internal world, assess it, calm myself down if necessary, make sure my problem solving skills are accessible, and talk myself out of my trees as needed.
THAT'S what I get to do.
::NOD::.
That's my job.
Having many tools in my centering toolbox is my job.
Remembering to use them, and stop DOING when I can't get back to center... is my job.
Figuring out how to protect myself, when I'm off center, is my job.
Asking for space and time is my job, bc I'm not powerless. I'm not without skills, and awareness. Not anymore.
Whew... I'm holding my breath a lot. Must remember to breath.
It's that first boundary transgression you have to catch.. I have to catch. The very first one. Allowing the second is the mistake that leads to misery, IME.
Lighter