So here I am again. I’ve had a really hard time lately. Like I mentioned in my previous post, every time I take a step forward it feels like I stumbled back down.  Bob Stewart, a fellow Seesmictologist and friend, posted a reply to my previous/first post and I want to use it as the topic for today’s writing because it inspired me to open up to anyone and everyone interested in reading a sad display of human emotions.  It’s the story of “The Fever Holiday Disaster.” It’s about what lead to Mr. Fever’s new night job, our silly drunk posts online, the sadness and where we are today.  I promise I will write much more interesting, upbeat and informative posts once my mind can get past my personal issues.  This blog is not going to be a diary of all my woes.

Bob was right; I do feel stuck in a river forcing my way against the current. There was a time when I used to flow along.  I’ve been looking for that girl.  Where did she go? She wanted to see things, leave this small town and write about her many adventures in the world.  I wanted to do all of this with the amazing and wonderful man who saved me from certain disaster.  Oh, that Mr. Fever.  He was the one who convinced me that I wasn’t worthless.  He helped me believe in myself and become that strong girl.  When he looked into my eyes, I knew he adored me and would never do anything to hurt me or confuse me.

It all came on so suddenly.  One day I felt this tremendous push to be more than my family thought I could be. It was after Randell and I were married.  The pressure really began because my parents didn’t think much of him. Anything to do with me hasn’t ever really been much. I'm not saying that I wasn't loved…just overlooked and always underestimated. Randell started working with my dad the year we were married.  In fact, it was actually around the time we were engaged.  We needed extra money and dad let him work part time.  Part time became full time, of course.  Randell was promised the sun, moon and stars.  Who cares if it’s a HVAC company?  It would be his one day.  “Set it up the way you would like it to be run,” my dad and grandfather told him.  They advised him.  They mentored him. My brother snuck out the back door, finally rid of the family business and free to be what he really wanted…a role model for the youth.  Then, my grandfather became sick.  He left the company.  Dad promoted Randell to CFO/VP of the company.  But, with my grandfather gone there was no one to keep dad in line.

Dad is not a bad person.  He just has no will power, no discipline and very low self-esteem. Without my grandfather at work to keep him in line Randell became “the dad” (not a good position for a son-in-law to be in).  Randell had to slap dad on the wrist for screwing the taxman and skipping out on work or on clients.  He had to force him to make important decisions.  He had to argue with him every month about paying bills (like they are just going to go away if you don’t pay them). 

Then, there’s my mom.  Mom controls it all (even though she is not an employee or investor or anything to the company). She wants dad home? She has a panic attack or calls in tears or screaming at him for not cleaning the garage (or whatever she ordered him to do in an unreasonable amount of time). She has no concept of budget or future or savings. She convulsively buys crap she doesn’t even use…like candles (the woman is afraid of fire and hates candles!).  She spends all of the money and relies on dad to magically supply it because “it’s his company, he can do what he wants.”  And with granddad out of the way, it was much easier.

Randell asked for my help.  He knew that dad would listen to reason; he would listen to me.  Dad and I both suffered from the same affliction: please-mom-itis. Don’t rock the boat; don’t wake the beast; because, when momma ain’t happy – ain’t no one happy.  Randell knew I could help dad stand up to mom (because mom and I were getting along at the time).  Mom and I had come to terms with each other, or so I thought.  She couldn’t deny that I was on my way to being what I set out to be.  I had just graduated from college and been accepted into graduate school.  I was the manager of the top independent children’s bookstore in the southeast and met some of the best children’s authors and illustrators in the world.  I was loved by the community because of my story time and birthday party performances.  I was on my way.  I needed to concentrate on graduate school, though.  I needed a part time job and to get away from the stress of running that damn store all by myself (owner issues…long story). I agreed that going to work for the company would be a great idea. Dad and I get along and Randell and I work really well together.  I could help further the business and help Randell set up processes to keep dad on task.  And so, the shit hit the fan.

My mother did not like this new arrangement.  Now, before I began working with Randell and dad, my mother had (over the last few years since our wedding) come to love Randell.  She was his biggest advocate for “running” the company.  She told dad, “Just let Randell handle it; he’s the smart one.”  She said this (however mean it was to dad) many times.  She had built Randell up in front of the family and her friends…the entire village (you could say).  At parties and holidays, everyone would talk about how Randell saved the day and saved the company.  He was dad’s prize son-in-law.  But when I came on it all changed.  I can remember one day mom and I went to lunch after my first month with the company. I told her about Randell’s ideas.  He was going to help dad build a future, a stable company.  My parents had (and still have) no retirement plan, no savings, no nothing.  Randell would provide them with security for the future.  Dad could stay home and enjoy his old age in retirement. She told me right then, that would never happen.  She told me that Randell was not capable.  She told me Randell was moving too fast with his five to ten year plan.  “He knows nothing about business and nothing about the industry.”  I told her she was wrong and we would show her – just give it some time because Randell is a hard worker and very smart.  We wanted what was best for my parents.  We wanted to help (again, it’s not like our dreams had ever involved HVAC, we were more creative and musically/literarily/technologically inclined).

At first, it was going great.  Business was booming.  We hired three new employees because Randell had sold several jobs to new builders with big plans for the future.  Everyone was busy.  Dad continued doing service calls, I managed his scheduled and ran the office, Randell managed the crews and the money and worked on advancing the company, and the crew was racking up over time hours.  Dad was happy.  We were all happy.  Then it was like mom realized we were doing it, we were going to take this 20 year old company and finally turn it into something profitable.  No one had been capable of success in this family business; it was more like dad’s hobby than a real career.  So her manipulation began…it started with panic attacks.  Her attacks occurred during lunch meetings, important days, and full-schedule days (and I had to call and cancel all of dad’s appointments on very hot GA summer days with very pissed off customers).  It continued to worsen over the next two years.

The worst was when mom accused Randell and me of taking control of the company so that we could throw them out on the street – penniless and with nothing.  WHAT!!!??? What kind of daughter would do that?  Dad told us that her friends had cooked this idea up and once it started it did not stop.  They all began to concoct these strange, elaborate, evil stories about Randell and me.  Now, let me pause to explain these “friends” of hers.

We’ll call the first one “J.”  Now J is a complete nut job.  I’ve know her since I was about 8 years-old.  She has a daughter my age and another adopted (from Korea) daughter around 21. Both girls are messed up.  For their sakes I will not go into too many details. I have a lot of respect for the younger daughter. Her father used to make racist remarks to her in public as a small child. She has come a long way and I hope she makes it in life.  As for J, I remember her fits.  I spent a lot more time alone with this family than my mother ever did – she wasn’t at the sleepovers or on vacations.  I know what J said to her children and how she treated them.  It was hard to watch and hard for me to even think about today. This woman has had it in for me for some time. She knows I know.  She acts all sweet and nice but she planted this “Randell and Cathy are out to get you” seed in my mom’s weak mind because…misery loves company.    

The other friend is “Chara.”  Chara has been around all my life.  She is married to and the proud mother of compulsive liars. I know a lot of you know me and know that I am usually silly but I’m not kidding.  They really are honest-to-God compulsive liars.  Chara spends most of her time covering it all up.  And (now pay attention, this part is important to note) she spoils her family.  Her husband is a huge man who sits around all day waiting on her to cut his food into perfect portions while he sits around complaining of his many ailments.  She finds work and manipulates the owner, takes control and gets her husband cushy jobs so he can be as lazy as he wishes.  For the last year my mother has compared Randell to this man.  She has compared me to this woman.  Now, keep in mind that Chara also supported and encouraged this delusion that Randell and I were out to get my parents.  She has a really messed up daughter and again…misery loves company. 

My brother and I have always been “the good ones” out of the pack.  We may have been caught drinking or dating the wrong people or this or that but we are still “the good ones.”  My brother does not like either of these women.  He can be a bit rude and he looks down on a lot people – he does not tolerate weakness.  I however, was the sweet girl.  I always did what I was told.  I may have lied about the vase I broke or the closet I colored with crayons, but it was only because I was so afraid of my parents’ disapproval.  I never wanted to make them cry or be unhappy.  I just wanted them to love me for me.  I wanted to make them proud.  I always did as I was told and my mom’s friends were envious.

And so the sabotage began at work.  My dad was told to “be harder on them” because “you are the boss, right?”  I honestly think that even he began to believe her.  Dad decided he would take over Randell’s job because he could do it better and Randell should be “working.”  My dad is not a people person.  He does not belong in conversations with cocky builders.  He went out on the job and messed it all up.  He would redesign systems because a Latino man with no training could never do it right (he didn’t quite put it that way but I think you get the drift).  He made the builders mad because he would leave the job and not be able to finish on time (he had to go because of my mom’s “panic attacks”).  Randell didn’t know what to do anymore.  Neither did I.  Dad would tell us to do one thing and then when he realized we were really doing what he asked us to do, he would get mad at us and tell us we were doing it all wrong.  He would change his mind from day to day.  “Let’s do some marketing” or “No, let’s not do marketing. It’s a waste of time.”  If something went well he took credit and if something went wrong it was all us.

I quit swimming against the current that day.  I’ve been standing in this metaphorical river trying to balance myself against the pressure.  My whole life flashed before my eyes.  It was like my parents died that day because all the images were of them.  The time I woke up in the hospital to see them standing over me, the many concerts and trips with my mom, the Jimmy Buffet concert with my dad, grandma’s funeral, my brother’s graduation from college, my graduation from high school, the day my best friend died and they just stared at me knowingly unable to understand what I was going through, the arguments, the parties, my wedding day and how big they always looked to this little girl that adored them more than they could ever know. 

Randell and I were married in October 2001.  The following December my mother found out that she was adopted.  She never had a clue.  Both of my grandparents are dead and she found out from my grandma’s sister.  All of my life my mother suffered from many mental problems such as agoraphobia, panic and anxiety attacks, and she is deathly afraid of all doctors.  Since she won’t go the doctor and has absolute temper-tantrums at the suggestion of a doctor’s visit, so her real mental diagnosis is actually unknown.  My grandmother, despite how bad she may sound for hiding the fact that my mom was adopted, was a bright ray of light in my world. She gave me strength and hope.  She believed in me and encouraged me.  She always took up for me and straightened my mother out when my mother would start down the path of disillusion.  Grandma died in October of 1996 and I met Randell the following January. I’ve been very luck to have her and Randell to keep me on track and help me to believe in myself.  I wish I could help my mom but I don’t know how.  And frankly, I’m sick of trying to fight the current.  If I continue to try and force things into place I will end up hurting the people I love. 

I haven’t spoken with mom since Christmas day.  She hasn’t tried to patch things up.  She sends dad to me every few weeks to beg, “Call your mother, please. This isn’t her fault.”  My brother pretends none of this happened; he’s too good to be related to all these screwed up people with emotions. Chara split town because her company was going out of business and the bills couldn’t be paid anymore (they’ve declared personal bankruptcy twice already).

Randell and I stayed drunk for about a month.  He got a job throwing the paper and I’m writing and working odd jobs for as much money as possible.  We’re both trying to recover from the massive amount of damage done to our mind and spirits.  Randell has never known mental torment like that of my parents.   His family is positive and they have complete confidence in him and his abilities.  He’s never been built up just so that he could be shoved into the ground by his own parents.  We’re a lot better now and this week has been a big step forward.  Just my being able to write this post is a gigantic step forward for me.  You know, I don’t know how it will all end and I don’t think I care.  I think I’m ready to finally go with the flow.

A couple of years ago I found myself stuck.  My mother was advising me on the next step in my career (as a teacher) when I realized that this is my life. Every choice I make is not for her or my family (who still cannot comprehend that being a writer is a career). Throughout my lifetime their negativity has created a tremendous mental wall, holding me back from any type of personal growth.  I’ve felt confused because my husband sees my potential and my family cripples me with fear. Now I know that I have a life of my own and it’s time to seize the day. I look around at all of the sad people that have given up on themselves and on life. I refuse to live that way. The only way to truly grow is to face fear and give it a swift kick in the nether regions. 

cathyfever