Another Chi-ism, this time most likely an equal-and-opposite reaction to the positive steps he’s been taking since the last incident about a month earlier.  

Listen while you read to “Love Song of a Crazy Girl” from the Panache Orchestra’s “10 Strings” album c & p. 2008.

February 21, 2012

I knew that because a month had passed since the last time Chi threw a hysterical spoiled toddler temper tantrum, it was inevitable that another one was due. Since the last one on January 18 was so extreme, he had been on his best behavior since then. He always seems to realize when he has pushed me up against the limit of my tolerance for his asshattery. For this reason, I find it difficult to enjoy his company even when he is being nice since it apparently only means one thing: that he’s at the top of the abusive behavior cycle with his mental sickness, and there is nowhere to go but down.

I’d had an exceptionally good, highly productive past few weeks, and wasn’t about to let his ridiculousness derail me and suck my energy.

Anyway, to summarize what happened, I came home from work and we enjoyed a couple hours of civil interaction, and just like the January 18 incident, as soon as he switched from drinking white wine with appetizers to the hard stuff, his behavior abruptly became hostile and toxic, and increasingly so as the evening wore on. He got booked on an acting job the next day, which should have been a good thing, but instead seemed to accelerate the shit-stink he was throwing for absolutely no apparent reason. That is the nature of mental illness, by the way: consistently exhibiting behavior that deviates sharply from what is considered normal and acceptable by the majority of the population.

Back to what happened: after I called the casting line and got all his details and figured out all the logistics to get him to the next day’s shoot on time at the correct location with the right wardrobe (Note that I have to do everything since the poor, helpless little 53-year-old “special needs child” maintains that he can’t do anything at all to make things work for himself), we began our nightly Panache Orchestra rehearsal and set up the camera to live stream the rehearsal. He began the live webcast with a tantrum, showing the whole world what a pathetically spoiled infant he is. We played three pieces, then he decided that was enough, and stopped the webcast and rehearsal. He had said at the beginning that he didn’t want to record it since the quality of the video using the inexpensive old webcam that I had finally got to work with the streaming program was so poor, and would record his own percussion practice later, so I didn’t save the recording, and then he threw a fit because I didn’t save the recording. (Standard-issue alcoholism/mental illness. What-the-fuck-ever)

After seemingly endless hours of research and trial and error, I had finally succeeded in getting our array of computers and video cameras/webcams set up to do a live stream yesterday, and he was elated then. However his attitude seemed to change by yesterday night, or maybe it was this afternoon when I came home for lunch. I suspect he had a reality check that went something like: “OMG!! What if this were actually to become successful?? Then I would have to be responsible about it — Oh, no!! It’s so much easier to just feign infantile helplessness and depend on Mommy to do everything, so I must sabotage this before it ever gets off the ground!”

He was being more and more abusive toward me, and I was very tired and had absolutely no interest in slaving away making dinner for that drug-addled asshole, and told him as much. What I actually said was, “If you are going to continue to be hateful and toxic, I am not going to make dinner. I am going to bed.” I have suffered through far too many hideously miserable nights of being up ridiculously late knocking myself out to make a big dinner when I am exhausted only to have him throw a big, ugly shit-stink at me to top it off, so I spared myself that insult-to-injury wretchedness this time.

He came barging into my home office to abuse me some more because of my refusal to do his bidding and make him a big dinner after he was a total asshole to me earlier for absolutely no reason. He went away and I kept at what I was doing. I eventually called to check the call time change line. When I told him the call time had shifted from 6:45 a.m. to 7:15 a.m., he asked me if I would eat if he made dinner. I said no, it’s too late, I’m going to bed. This was around 10:30 PM. I went back into my office to finish what I was doing earlier and heard him crashing and banging around in the kitchen, breaking and destroying things. What-the-fuck-ever. I know I have to get rid of this toxic, destructive parasite, and the sooner, the better.

He once again came barging into my office to scream at me about what a horrible, selfish person I am for refusing to make dinner for him when he has to get up early the next day and has to get lunch for himself since they won’t have a catered lunch on set, wah-wah, boo-hoo, poor, helpless, neglected little special needs child; and how “everyone” knows “the truth” about me because he writes all about it every day in his blog, etc., etc. (Yeah, so now I’m returning the favor, Douche!) Again, I ignored him. I have to work too, and endure this idiotic bullshit on top of it all.

After awhile, he came back in again, screaming at me to call the casting line and say he wouldn’t be at the shoot tomorrow since he was quitting, blah, blah, blah. He went on for awhile longer babbling alcohol-addled, deranged nonsense. Again, what-the-fuck-ever. If he really does refuse to go to the job tomorrow (he tried this childish shtick before a couple years ago, but ended up going to the job the next morning), then I will go straight to family court and divorce him, and then my next stop will be the Department of Homeland Security to make a compelling case that his green card should be revoked and he should be deported with no further ado. This is because blowing off a job like that will make him unemployable as an actor, and given his record to date in this country, unemployable altogether, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let myself get stuck permanently with a burden like that.

He came in again a little later, being calm and controlled this time, and told me nicely to call the casting line and give some excuse like the car is broken down because he was high (he smokes marijuana in addition to getting stupid-drunk every day for no reason), and was not going to go to the job tomorrow. What-the-fuck-ever. Again, I ignored him and kept at what I was doing (by this point, writing this journal).

Bizarrely enough, he very recently made the decision to prioritize and seriously pursue his acting career, investing a fair bit of money in new clothes and shoes, and asked me to investigate finding him an agent. During appetizers today I had told him that I was working on identifying an appropriate agent for him.

Apparently when somebody with Chi’s array of mental health issues gets overwhelmed (for example, by the very real threat of becoming successful and people expecting consistent performance and responsible behavior from him, i.e., basic professionalism), they fall back on their conditioning, and in his case, he is apparently just as addicted to his hysterical, Cluster B trauma-drama-queen behavior as he is to alcohol and marijuana.

Oh well….we’ll see what happens tomorrow……

***********

UPDATE: He went to the job and came home at the end of the day acting as if nothing the least bit untoward had happened. Business as usual.

I still have to find the time and energy to install a lock on the second door to the office room and my bedroom too, since I finally bought the right tool for the job.

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