Thanksgiving, The White Supremacist and the Last Straw

Thanksgiving

It had been a difficult year: the felony strangulation investigation against my ex, the stress of the wedding planning, the wedding, the move to Florida, buying our first home, and the miscarriage. A lot was going on, and I think it is fair to say that I didn't handle it all that well--and that is if you consider slipping into full-blown alcoholism "handling" it.

Roughly a month after the miscarriage, we invited my husband's sister and her boyfriend up to Orlando for Thanksgiving. The month since the miscarriage had been stressful and depressing for both my husband and myself. And I can't speak for my husband, but I looking forward to some reprieve from the isolation and melancholia that had become almost oppressive in the weeks following the loss.

We had reason to be excited that Thanksgiving because we had bought our first home less than a month before, and it would be the first time we had guests or family members over to our new home. In our excitement, we went all out in preparation for their arrival: we spent several days cooking and cleaning, spent several hundred dollars on groceries and niceties for their stay, and even went so far as to put a bottle of champagne and expensive pastries in their room. We were excited to share our new home with others, and truly looking forward to some respite from our troubles.

That did not happen...instead, we had a four day onslaught of white supremacist views from Robbie, the significant other of my sister-in-law.

The White Supremacist 

I can't even begin to describe the level of hatefulness and aggression that came out of Robbie's mouth that holiday weekend. I've never heard anything like that before or since. To put it plainly, Robbie hates everyone that is not white, male, and Christian. Moreover, he will force his views on you whether you want to hear them or not. Being that he was a guest in our home, he literally had a captive audience, and for him, Thanksgiving was clearly an optimal time to unleash is fanatical and controversial world views upon those who had no desire to hear them. I literally felt like a hostage in my own home. I definitely considered bailing on my husband for the rest of the weekend and going to my parents place on the coast.  

Personally, I find this kind of behavior a little hostile and abusive. It clearly made me uncomfortable, I stated that it made me uncomfortable, I stated that I did not agree, but he never stopped. In fact, he specifically directed his racist comments at me after I had expressed the fact that I felt uncomfortable and disagreed with his views. Most people, when seeing that I'm uncomfortable with what they are saying, are respectful enough to back off and understand that my views are different than their own. The reason that whole situation felt abusive is because, after expressing that I felt uncomfortable, Robbie actually increased the frequency and level of offensiveness of his comments.My husband had addressed his sister regarding the issue, his sister had addressed him regarding the issue, but he didn't stop. In fact, he escalated.

 Moreover, instead of making general comments to the group, he specifically started to address them towards myself directly. And after expressing my uncomfortably, he specifically told me (and his girlfriend) to "put a tampon up your pussy and cry while you watch Oprah."

I had just married, miscarried and bought my first home, I was overwhelmed and still a bit unstable after all of the stress in the months prior. We had just moved to Oviedo. I didn't even know my way around, never mind know where to go, who to talk to, or what to do. I ended up calling friends and family out of state, and honestly, no one really knew what to do because no one could recall ever being in a comparable situation.

I made it pretty clear I had no interest in listening to is bullshit. But why would my comfort matter to him? He is a guest in my home, and my husband and I offered him and his girlfriend our warmest welcome with the utmost thought and consideration for them? But why would our feelings or comfort matter??? After all, I am a woman, so I can pretty much go fuck myself because I'm not equal and he is entitled to treat me any way he wants. 

It is totally normal to make a person feel uncomfortable in their own home, right?

Robbie said so much hateful stuff, I can't even remember it all. But, to give the reader some idea, here are a few choice comments that I remember:

"Those s**d n*****rs and Jews are always causing our country problems. We should just a-bomb the whole middle east and that'll solve it."

"Mexicans (Latinos) are ruining our country and stealing our jobs. We need to deport those fuckers so white people can work."

But among the most confusing and astounding things he said was, "Come on now, honestly, honestly, don't you believe, on some level, that you are better than other people because you are white?" Um, No, Robbie. There are a hell of a lot of people out there from all variety of races and religions that are doing substantially better for themselves than I'll ever do. That doesn't even make sense. I'm sorry, but how dumb can you be? In what degree of denial do you have to immerse yourself to be able to believe that is even remotely true?

The Last Straw

Frankly, I've been through enough in my life. I am not interested in inviting verbal abuse and hatefulness into my home. Moreover, there is no way I would feel safe starting a family in a situation where every holiday would put me in circumstances where I felt uncomfortable, disrespected, and generally stressed out. Nor would I want to have children around that level of hatefulness or aggression. It is not normal, and it should not be treated as such.

At some point, I started to feel like I was in crazy land around his family. I was the only one who would even seem to acknowledge what happened (other than his father), or express any concern about the implications of what had happened. My husband kept trying to ignore it, his sister kept trying to ignore it, and the general message I received from his family was to ignore it and pretend like there was no problem. No. Not going to happen. His views and behavior were extreme and I'm not going to pretend like nothing is going on. Racism is a deal breaker for me. So is verbal abuse--or, for that matter, abuse of any kind. I made that very clear to my husband, and he told me he understood. Still, he did nothing about it. He promised to say something when the "time was right"...but as the weeks passed, it was beginning to become clear that the time was never going to be right.

My husband never had a conversation with Robbie, his sister, or his parents about the events that had transpired. In retrospect, I can't entirely blame him. The first time he had called to tell his Mom about the events that occurred on our way to Key West, she shut him down and dismissed his concerns. So why would he bother trying a second time? Also, my husband is uncomfortable with conflict, so he will avoid it at all costs. Because conflict, verbal abuse, and a generally abusive stance are all fine--as long as they are directed at his wife and not him.

I felt like I didn't matter to my husband--or to anyone else in his family. The interpretation of events that I internalized were that it was not only OK for my husband's family to act out towards me in a hostile manner, it was OK for their significant others to do that as well. Does that mean it would be OK for them to do that to and around any children we would have?

Robbie left that Sunday, but the conflict he brought into our home and into my relationship with my husband and his family remained. He still has there full love and support, I on the other hand, do not.

And well, saying or doing nothing in response to statements like that??? Why??? Unless...if you catch my drift...

And I thought marriage was about being on the same team--supporting each other, sticking up for each other, having a united front. Unfortunately, it became pretty clear that that wasn't happening in our marriage.

My husband promised me he would address the delicate situation with his family, buttttttt.......

Being a Weirdo and Other Wedding Related Blunders

Is this a vision of true love or what?

Crap! Nowhere to hide!?!!!??!! :< (extra frowny face)

My husband had his bachelor party in Orlando. We were living in a small apartment there. In addition to being reasonably close to Disney, there are generally a lot of fun things to do in Orlando, so it made sense to have the bachelor party down there. However, our apartment was tiny, without much room for guests. My husband had his brother staying at our apartment for about a week or so during his three day bachelor party event.It wasn't the most graceful moment in my life, so I'm sure that no one is surprised to hear that events unfolded in a somewhat uncomfortable manner that was a bit too self-revealing for my taste. The state of the apartment, with a huge Bloody Mary stain that had been left of the living room floor for at least a month, provided even the most casual observer an unflattering glimpse into my lifestyle and priories. The more intricate details of my debauchery and dysfunction would be revealed over the course of the week--as three people shared an extremely small living space.

I did have a conversation with my husband about my concerns, but being the passive-aggressive, people pleaser that I am, the conversation went something like this:

ME: Soooo, your brother is going to come stay with us for a week...

HUSBAND: Yep, that's OK with you, right?

ME: Of course! It will be so much fun to have some company!!!!

What I wanted to say was something like this:

ME: Um, husband, how are we going to convince everyone that I'm psycho-socially stable if we let them stay in our tiny-ass apartment where my dysfunction is readily apparent by the box of wine in our bedroom, the Bloody Mary stain on the living room floor, and the knife on my bedside table?"

HUSBAND: Good point, babe, maybe you should ask one of your friends if they could go stay with you at your parents condo!

ME: You are so brilliant, hon, and that is why I'm marrying you!

Besides the fact that I was trashed all day every day, I slept for very long periods, didn't have a job, barely ate, endlessly spewed my drunken, ridiculous ideas, and had a knife on my bedside table in case my crazy strangling ex-boyfriend tried to break in. Although he had given no indication that he would do so, and had actually written me a letter of apology at that time, in my drunken stupor I remained convinced that he was coming to Orlando to either steal the dog or murder me.

Husband in no way concerned about Cercei Lannister eating children

My cousin also stayed at our apartment during the bachelor party. I put on a strong performance to hide my dysfunction, but I'm fairly sure he wasn't buying it. He's known me since he was born, so he already knew I was ridiculous. On the plus side, he forgot his tea tree oil Paul Mitchell shampoo and his goose down pillow. I "forgot" to mention that to him, and relished the tingly and refreshing feeling of his hair products. His pillow is still in my position and remains my preferred sleeping utensil. I suppose I owe him a new pillow and some shampoo.

Panic Attack at Disney

The night before I was supposed to entertain the wives of my husband's friends at Disney, I had one too many libations while out with the guys. The next morning I was feeling a bit "under the weather" and a little "nervous." Overwhelmed by the idea of spending a hot, summer day hungover at Disney's Magic Kingdom (where no alcohol is served), I drove to meet the other women. When I arrived, I looked as crazed as I felt. A crazed, frothing, rabid raccoon is really the best description I can come up with for the way I feeling that day. I had one of the other women drive my car there because I had started putting a few back to cure my hangover with a little hair of the dog. When we finally paid the exorbitant fee to enter, I found out there was no alcohol served, and then I quickly realized I had left my Xanax at home. I was crushed. Crushed. So we proceeded to get in a 45-minute to an hour long line for the small world attraction. It was sweltering hot, and I was extremely dehydrated and hungover. I remember looking at the fans on the ceiling and thinking I was in some bizarre version of hell. When we got on the ride, the endless creepy ,singing statues and nauseating perkiness of the "happy"" songs started to rub me the wrong way.

It was hot, I was hungover, it was cheerful, there were happy people and excited children everywhere, and I was not. I did not want to be there at all, I had just paid over $100, and stood in line for an hour, to go on this very creepy (in my opinion) ride.

Frothing rabid raccoon lady (i.e. me)

By the time we got off the ride, I thought I was going to lose my mind. I had already revealed to the two other women that I suffer from severe anxiety and that I was feeling a bit hungover. The two fresh-faced women were cheerful and supportive, but I knew they had no idea what sort of state I was actually in, and this made me feel very isolated, alienated and different. When I compared myself to those two other women, I started to feel bad for my husband. I was a lush with a lot of personal baggage. These were healthy, stable, successful women without drinking problems or years of personal baggage to lug around with them everywhere they went. I missed my husband. I missed him mostly because he was the only one who knew the whole truth about me. I didn't have to hide around him. I didn't feel vulnerable and exposed.

I told them I was going to have a panic attack and I excused myself to run home and get my Xanax. The happy, laughing families and cheerful music were worsening my sense of panic and I couldn't stay a second longer. I was so anxious at that point, that I couldn't even figure out how to get out of there. I called my husband and he calmed me down. But...I was exposed.

There was no time that I felt like more of a fraud then that moment. I can't ever remember ever feeling so out of place and so dislocated from myself, other people, and humanity in general. I went home, got a Xanax, journaled, and relaxed by myself for a few hours. But in an effort to appease my husband, my husband's friends' wives, and to maintain some sort of mask of dignity, I went back to Disney and joined them again for another ride. Later that evening, alone, I called my husband again panicked, and one of his friends drove him over to stay with me that night. I felt horrible. It was the night of his bachelor party and he was supposed to spending the night with his friends at a hotel. I just couldn't hold it together. I didn't know what to do, so I flew back to Massachusetts the next day. I had barely had a moment alone with my husband in over a week, and there were not many opportunities in sight before the wedding. Going home made the most sense. My family could comfort me, and they did. Thanks to my family, I was able to gather enough grit to make it through the events ahead...without making my breakdown obvious to the general population. I had some glitches, and I had revealed more about my state of mind than I was comfortable with, but I managed to get through the wedding. Unfortunately not the marriage.

Wedding Woes and Alcohol Part 2: Conflict and Humiliation

Conflict and Humiliation

One thing surprised me about getting married: a lot of people have very strong opinions about how the wedding should go; people other than the bride and groom.

As I mentioned before, I have a profound aversion to conflict and a crippling need for everyone to like me. As I began to plan the wedding, it became very clear that there would be no way to avoid conflicts, and therefore, no way to keep everyone happy so everyone would continue to like me. This revelation was troubling to me and I felt like the best way to deal it was by increasing my use of of alcohol. I mean, that makes perfect sense, right?

This seems like a really good idea!

The first mistake I made in planning the wedding was to get one of my good friends involved. This particular friend, let's call her Jane, is a great person and most definitely means well. However, Jane is also but a bit of a "personality" with a little too much time on her hands. When I was struggling to find the motivation to plan the wedding, and having trouble make decisions about the wedding, I started asking her for help. Eventually I paid her to help me plan the wedding. Around that time, things went horribly awry. Of all the people that had very strong opinions, Jane had the strongest.

No pressure or anything..

Jane's strong opinions started to boil over when we went back to Massachusetts to decide some of the more intricate details of the wedding. At this time, Jane met one of my family members that was also helping to plan the wedding. It made sense to have this family member, Gemma, involved in wedding planning because she actually LIVED where the wedding was taking place, and besides that, planning weddings was ACTUALLY her job. While Jane had been a very successful wedding photographer, she had never actually planned a wedding.

Jane met Gemma, along with another person in my family, Maria, at the Greenfield Country Club to discuss the details of  he reception. When Jane realized that Gemma knew what she was doing, the whole encounter took an uncomfortable turn. Jane instantly became defensive, and as a result, started to inappropriately drop information about herself and her very impressive (to be truthful) work history. However, it was apparent to everyone else there, including my husband, that she was feeling very insecure and was being a bit combative with Gemma. It was awkward to watch and I politely excused myself to the bathroom to pop a Xanax. When I returned, everyone was discussing transportation. I jumped into the conversation, and cut off Maria who was, at that moment, was offering the services of other family members that potentially might be attending the wedding as guests. Of course, none of those people had any idea that their services were being offered. This resulted in Maria abruptly getting up and storming out. My husband chased after her when she ran out, while Gemma, Jane and I awkwardly tried to pretend like nothing odd was occurring. The awkwardness was compounded when my husband returned and reported that he had tried to flag that person down, but they drove right past him and ignored him entirely. The meeting ended shortly after that, and the entire ride home Jane ranted about Gemma and her suspicions that Gemma didn't like her. I sneaked into my sister's liquor cabinet that night after everyone had gone to bed. After I began to feel some alcohol induced relief, I popped another Xanax and went to bed. The whole day had been stressful and incredibly awkward and embarrassing, and the wedding was still months away. I couldn't help but wonder what my husband thought of everything that happened, but I didn't have the courage to deal with whatever he might say.

In the months between the terrible wedding planning debacle and the actual wedding, I fired Jane after she lost the second dress I had bought her for the wedding. Also, my husband and I got into our first serious argument that I described in the previous post. As the wedding date got closer the pressure and stress became seemingly endless. I was beginning to fall apart at the seams, and that was starting to become apparent to others. I hate it when that happens, it is really frickin' embarrassing.

Transparency

A couple of nights before the wedding, I went to a small, intimate dinner with some of the people that were directly involved in the wedding. At first, I felt relieved. I knew everyone there very well, and I didn't feel like I had to filter what I said, or pretend that I was doing well. I wasn't. In an unguarded moment, I made a joking toast over dinner that went something like: "Well, we are all crazy here, so I feel very much at home!"

Shhhiiitttt!!!Now I'm the one that made everything awkward

One person at the dinner did not appreciate my joke/toast, Valentina, one of my bridesmaids. This was exceptionally uncomfortable because I hold Valentina's opinion in very high regard. I very much care what Valentina thinks of me.

The next day, I was meeting with Gemma to discuss the final, last-minute details of the wedding reception when my phone started blowing up. It was Valentina, and she didn't to be in my wedding anymore because the toast I made the night before had greatly offended her. She had decided at the last minute that she would not be in my wedding. I nervously read her texts while continuing to discuss the details of the wedding with Gemma and my husband. Something was wrong, and everyone could tell: my phone was blowing up for ten minutes, and my pain and anxiety continued to increase every time my iPhone made the "bing" noise to notify me of an incoming text. I rushed through the details of the wedding so I could escape from the coffee shop and cry in private. When we walked out, my husband and I sat in the park across the street and I just cried and vented. He was there for me, and I felt so relieved that I would be starting a new life with him. He was always very even-keeled and supportive.

After I had pulled myself together, we went over to the People's Pint so I could find some liquid courage. I had a couple of drinks, calmed down, ran an urgent errand for the wedding. We then proceeded up to Valentina's house in an attempt to resolve the conflict. When we arrived, her and her husband came out of the house and confronted me in the driveway. She informed me how offended she was and why. I just backed down and agreed that I was wrong in order to smooth things over so I wouldn't have to suffer the embarrassment of having to explain why this very near and dear friend had suddenly decided that she didn't want to be a part of my wedding. When I finally thought we had come to some resolution, she confronted me about my drinking. I lost it. I argued with her brutally before getting back in the car and driving to the bed and breakfast where I was staying. Before we left, she confirmed to me again that she would not be a part of my wedding, and perhaps would not even attend my wedding. That particular person and her family would have been a very noticeable absence at the wedding. That absence would have wounded me for the rest of my life, and would have been absolutely humiliating for thereon after.

At the bed and breakfast, I wracked my brain for a solution to my certain humiliation. I decided that I would find someone else to replace her. Everyone that I was close to had already been asked to be in the wedding and had already either accepted or declined. My best friend couldn't be there because it was enormously cost prohibitive for her, and I started to feel very vulnerable. At that point, I very uncomfortably turned to my husband's friends in order to fill Valentina's void. It was massively awkward and uncomfortable to ask people I had only known for a few years, but I was pretty desperate at that point. One of them consented, and I put the rest of the mess on the back-burner for the time being.

Within the next day, people began to arrive for the wedding. My bridesmaids helped a lot in smoothing over all the rough edges and keeping me calm. My husband disappeared around that time because he had to attend to his own family and friends. My best friend from high school was in my bridal party and doing her best to keep my spirits up. However, she lived locally, and was not staying at the bed and breakfast with me. I started to feel isolated and lonely at night. Everyone was busy, and there were a lot of long gaps of time where I was alone with little else to do but ruminate on my many worries. I know that people would have been there for me if I asked, but I was too humiliated to talk about all the drama that had been going on. Around that time, Valentina reluctantly agreed to be a part of my wedding party again, but we were still on a very shaky peace.

Finally, the night before the wedding, my old friend from England arrived. He had just gone through the break-up of a very long, very serious relationship. Neither of us were in the best of spirits, so his presence offered me enormous comfort. I was also able to confide in him about my drinking, the conflicts that had occurred, and my general unhappiness about the event.

We slept in separate twin beds in his room that night because I was too nervous and depressed to sleep in my room alone. We drank quite a bit with the other wedding attendees and I went to bed.

The next morning I woke up sober and completely overwhelmed. I was afraid I was going to have a panic attack. I realized that I had left my Xanax in my husband's belongings, and I desperately needed it. He sent over his friend's wife, who had agreed to be a part of my bridal party, with my bottle of Xanax. I popped my Xanax and continued to drink champagne as I got ready for the wedding ceremony.

This isn't risky at all! And besides, it is for a good reason!

My husband and his brother stopped by in between the golf game and the wedding pictures that morning. I made nervous, self-deprecating jokes in attempt from inadvertently revealing to my husband that I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown on our wedding day. I think I did a good job minimizing how unraveled I had become. I didn't want to ruin his wedding day just because I was having a meltdown. However, when they were leaving, his brother shot me a look. I can't be sure, but I got the impression he was on to me and the haphazard cover-up over my wedding breakdown.

 A couple of my bridesmaids were late for hair and make-up. One of them was Valentina, and I remained worried in spite of my haze of alcohol and Xanax. Gemma came to the bed and breakfast and talked to me while I was getting ready. I could tell from her eyes that she knew I was having trouble as well. I seriously wish I was not so transparent when I fall apart! We all pushed on, and went to take the wedding pictures before the ceremony. My buzz started to wear off during the lengthy photo shoot, and everything started becoming a little too real for me. On the way to the wedding ceremony, I made the driver stop at the liquor store so I could buy a couple of vodka shooters.

In the basement of the church, I shamelessly pounded my vodka shooters in front of my husband's groomsmen. I already felt exposed and I was about to stand up in front of almost everyone I knew, as well as everyone my husband knew. I was petrified that everyone would see right through me--see my stress, see my fear, see my embarrassment. I felt entirely transparent.

Right before the ceremony, I went upstairs and continued drinking with my bridesmaids in the back room. On the way up, I ran into one of my cousins' husband. He shot a look right through me--but his was a look of judgement. It was not a kind or concerned look like the others. I put it out of my head and went on with the wedding.

As I got married, the rush of alcohol and Xanax hit me, and I started to feel OK. I did my best to look happy and excited. I searched the expressions of my husband's family members to see if they had any indication of how uncomfortable I felt or what a fake I was. They seemed OK.

The alcohol started to wear off as the wedding reception started. People were having a good time, so I felt less concerned about having to put on my happy face. I sat down at the table and relaxed. For a moment, I left my expression unguarded. I looked over, and my cousin was looking right at me. He knew I was miserable, and in some way that was quite comforting. It all would be over soon anyway.


To be continued..TUNE IN TOMORROW FOR THE EPIC CONCLUSION OF THIS SECOND ANNIVERSARY SPECIAL!