Near 24 hours have passed, and I’m happy to report no-ones dead, including myself … duh.
And this is where self realisation and a good dose of reflection are kicking in.
First and foremost, I’m glad I didn’t kick a hole in the wall. Fixing it would cost money, that I don’t have.
I’m a simple gal. Believe it or not, I long for peace and quiet. To be able to lean over the neighbours fence and gossip about the other neighbours bloomers blocking out my sunshine … I long for simple food, simple laughs. I like the idea of vegetable gardens and plum trees … fixing shit myself … 3pm coffee breaks … weekends on the beach … I love the thought of all those things … and I’m trying to attain a whisper of that ‘thing’.
My big fucking moment yesterday, was induced by stress and interrupted by the realisation that that was my Grandparents era. And I fucking miss it! It seemed simple and comforting. Even though it was rife with sexual abuse and underlying passive aggressive goings ons …
I guess I miss them. They are my version of Home. That feeling anyway. But it’s gone. And so’s the era. People aren’t like that anymore. There aren’t ‘gentle-men’ agreements: there isn’t idle harmless gossip over the mailbox: there isn’t biscuits and hot coffee at 3pm, paid for by your boss.
What there is plenty of though, is stress.
It’s fucking everywhere.
And it made it’s way into my safe haven and feng shui.
My partner (yes I said it grrr), is a half full kinda dude. But he too is besotted with the grandparent generation … Nice ideals … but not realistic anymore.
I’m more of a ‘fuck your glass and your water, I’ll make my fucking own’ kinda person.
Yes, we clash.
Usually when theres a third party involved.
Another of our differences: I have no problem with telling someone NO. Whether thats a straight out No, fuck off; or a No Thankyou … it gets said if it needs to be said.
Partner on the other hand is more of a … ‘ohhhh but I said I would so I’d better now … ‘ kinda person. There’s No such thing as a No.
As you can guess theres been some god almighty clashes. It fucks with my boundaries, my sense of safety … my sense of calm and peace and fucking stress-free quietness.
So, he’s discussed an arrangement with our soon-to-not-be landlord. Why? Because thats what he does …
But this discussion led to ‘a gentlemans arrangement’ whereby we would pay more rent for the remainder of our tenancy and be reimbursed the increase, weekly. The idea was that by having it look like we are paying more rent on the paperwork, makes it eligible for them to put the house on the market as a potential ‘rental investment’, at current rental prices.
Seemed simple enough. I smelt something fishy though, because I’m a deficit type bitch like that …
As a side note, the partner had said he’d do some work on the house to bring it up to a sellable standard, in lieu of cash payments, and at slightly better rates than a tradie, of course.
So we get the paperwork from the rental agency.
What it says, in flamboyant technical language, is we have agreed to a rent increase and until we finish doing work on the house, will be reimbursed up to said amount, until such and such a date.
I balked immediately, seeing nothing but big holes in this arrangement.
And all I said to the partner was: How is this beneficial to Us?
And the rest turned into a shitfest.
“Why you gotta get all ‘that way'” (meaning, why you gotta get all man hating, pakeha hating and protesty).
I balked again.
In my opinion, the landlord, who seems like a nice enough dude, has re-written himself a good deal. Increased rent before selling and free work to his house.
In my opinion also – this is a deal only white priviledge would even have the audacity to ‘offer’ after agreeing verbally to something completely different.
And also in my mother fucking opinion – it’s the type of deal only a down trodden maori slave would consider as being a good deal!
And the angst that comes from being shown otherwise is what is causing the stress. Because like I said, partner does not say No.
I even offered to do it for him.
He’s still in justification mode and is having a hard time getting his mermaid headspace around the fact that this dude is trying to fuck him up the ass.
It’s a harsh realisation, I know.
But it’s fact.
I don’t have any ill feeling toward the landlord. We have an arrangement with him that works for us at the moment. Changing that, is his job. Not changing it, is ours. Simple.
But to dress it up as anything other than what it is; or to try and shame me into believing that I have a ‘negativity’ issue is bullshit.
And it’s bullshit I almost fell for.
As a reeled around yesterday trying hard not to put my fist through anything, I could hear the ghosts of years gone by … ‘you don’t know what your doing’, ‘your not a good mother’, ‘you just need to shut up and listen’, ‘ you need to obey …’ and the list went on …
Once I’d let them have their say and I found somewhat of a centre again … I could dismiss them as the bullshit they were then, but I couldn’t do anything about it … Now I can.
I’m not any of those things that were said about me; to me, against me. It is not my problem if ‘they’ don’t get me and it’s not a discussion I need to have to try and persuade them to see me differently.
Really, they can all just jog on.
If, however, I choose to stay with my partner, am I going to let him put me in an inferior position to make himself comfortable? And if the answer is No, how do I calmly combat that … cos holes in walls is way too stressful now-days.
And thats where I’m at.
I’m trying to figure out how to do the next bit.