I Was Not Allowed To Be Better Than Him At Anything. Except Household Tasks That He Didn't Want To Do,

I was not allowed to be better than him at anything. Except household tasks that he didn't want to do, of course.

I'll give you a silly example. I worked in service all the way through university and in my early 20s. I used a cash register often, and I got quick at counting money.

When we were doing our finances, sometimes we would pay cash for things.  He would lay money out on the floor like a child and count everything.  Then he would ask me to check his count.  I would flip through 20s in an 8th of the time it took him to count them.  I did this every day; of course I was fast at it.

The world ended if I found he had made a mistake, but he didn’t trust my counting at that speed, even when I confirmed his results. He made me count bills at the same speed he counted them.  My 4 year old cousin could keep up.

It sounds so silly, but he mocked my skills and capitalistic “worth” so often that not having his confidence in THIS, even, was frustrating and soul crushing.

The air around me is lighter without his presence.

His words, my voice

It’s been years, and I still can’t handle making a mistake.

I’m taking a French class and we had a class on the Imparfait tense tonigh.  I used it incorrectly while doing an exercise where we were speaking aloud. Now I want to quit the class because my brain is telling me that I’m not good enough to be here.  Furthermore, I should go to bed and never come out because I’m an embarrassment to myself and everyone thinks I’m a fool.

I teach English to newcomers.  Mistakes are inevitable when you’re learning a language.  They’re also a great way to learn.  But apparently only for other people.

Second Hand Anxiety

My partner has an interview today. I am LOSING MY FUCKING MIND about it. I feel like if she doesn't get the job it will be because I failed her.

Not sure if I just want her to get the job she really wants because it would make her happy and improve her quality of life. Or maybe it's because he blamed me for anything in his life that did not go his way.

"If you would have fucking slept on the couch so I could actually sleep...."

"They asked questions that weren't on the list you gave me. Thanks for fucking this up for me..."

"I don't fucking care if you don't know anything about machining. I told you to take notes for me to study for my trades exam. These notes are shit. It's like you're not even trying...."

Still figuring it out. I'll think about it while I go vomit. Stay tuned!

I don't know why, but I googled his name.

He got into an accident on his bike in April and has a GoFundMe set up by his girlfriend. He was in the hospital for 10 weeks.

There's some feels here, but not what I was expecting.

Oopsie.

You know when you know something is a bad idea, but you do it anyways?

Have any of you figured out how to curb that yet?

Apparently I’ll never be safe.

So.  I got sexually harassed by one of my tax clients yesterday. 

He’s on disability and CRA (Canada’s IRS - less scary, still irritating) is jerking him around.  He's “not going to file” to solve this issue (it won’t, but you can’t tell some people anything).  CRA will probably just cut off his benefits if he doesn’t file, and as I’m a fucking fool with no sense of self preservation or foresight I offered to do his return for free.  

So I’ve just agreed to do him a favour, and he starts calling me sweetheart.  I’m don’t say anything, and I wish I had because it went allll downhill from there. I roll up to pick up his documents and he’s shitfaced.  I don’t know what he was drinking, but I can’t get that sickeningly sweet smell out of my nose.

He starts trying to get me to “feel” his body parts that are “fucking jacked” now that he’s been working out.  I’m visibly uncomfortable. He asks me to grab his ass. “No, thanks”

He asked me to come up to his apartment.  I said that I was in a hurry to see other clients.  He asked me to go out to dinner with him and I told him I had a partner and wasn’t interested (why did I have to mention my partner, isn’t ‘not interested’ enough)?

THEN he says, and I fucking quote “Well you could always come upstairs for a one hour romance.”

“....Nope, I’m not interested.  I gotta go.”

“Oh come on, it’s just a sexual experience baby, that’s all it would be.”

*walking away dry heaving into my mask*

“Oh, ok, well thanks anyways!”

For the love of fuck, asshole.  I do your fucking taxes. I had half a mind to leave his docs with him, but I am propelled forwards by this self-destructive sense of compassion for people who are simply not worthy of it.

and I still do.

You didn’t just put me down

you made me put myself down