Burning the Man Overboard

Google Photo Search said this is the location for Burning Man. I have zero clue if that's true or not. 

Cutting to the chase, I don't know that person, and that person most DEFINITELY does not know me, nor did they ever. 

I cannot make these maths math. I just can't. 

There is no repairing this relationship. It's a one-sided, gaslighting, bullying, pointless fight. I am not allowed to speak full sentences. I am berated, belittled, blamed, accused, and anything else that makes them feel right about what they say and how they behave. 

It is my belief that when someone starts interrupting you, or picking apart what you said or did NOT say, and made either instance wrong, that there is really nothing going on here but their own bullshit, and there is absolute zero I can do about that. 

Here's my honest take: 

This person is NOT happy. No matter how much they might pretend, they are not. I don't know whether they are doubting their choices, or whether their current relationships are shit. I don't know because they are not 100% forthright about what's really going on. 

It's like they're playing a role, and not doing a very good job at it. It's all very performative. It's all very empty. 

The son I used to have would have let me speak. He would have let me process my thoughts out loud without micromanaging every choice of word, thought, or belief. He would not have overtly announced that I was, or all intents and purposes, ignorant and uninformed. 

This person takes everything I say and either tears it apart or uses it against me. This person is irrational. This person is the most closed-minded individual I have ever encountered, and that includes my parents. This person looks down on anyone who doesn't believe precisely what they believe. 

This person looked me in the eyes and said they don't know who I am, but when I tried to say who I am, they cut me off. This person has zero respect for me. They have zero appreciation for the fact that everything they could ever have wanted or needed was handed to them, and mostly by the grandparents that they later shunned. This person knows that we did the best we could with what little we had. This person knows that we had financial help to stay afloat. This person will never stop using that fact, but now will chastise me for being an entitled, wealthy white person. The only one of those that is true is that I'm white. 

It took me 40 years to finally realize that I was intelligent enough to make things work on my own without the help of the people that didn't believe I was capable of anything productive. I made my own way. I worked long hours. I worked shit jobs. I learned new skills. I taught myself a lot of things. I started my own business. That business led me to my current job. I have no doubt that if the current job goes away, I can start over again. 

But NONE of those things scores me any respect from this person. This person judges me for the color of my skin and my bank account, which does not even come CLOSE to equaling that of a wealthy person. I am NOT going to apologize nor feel bad for having the money we do have. I didn't ask for it. I didn't expect it. I didn't make assumptions about how much or how little there would be for me. 

If I could paint, it would be a dark, and heavily textured oil painting full of rage and fury. But I can't paint, so we're safe from that particular work of art. 

Instead, since getting back home, I've stopped (for now) wasting all my time playing that stupid puzzle game and overthinking the bejesus out of everything. I'm running on sheer anger. 

Dealing with that human takes me back to dealing with my parents. It equates to me not being good enough, in their eyes. It equates to them believing I am not intelligent enough to see the dark and miserable world in which they choose to live. Their hypocrisy is rich. There are parts of me that still believe that toxic bullshit. I do what I can to fight those voices off. 

I just cannot with them. I cannot. I won't. They chose this. They chose public humiliation again. They chose to storm off again. They chose to leave me alone in a place I was unfamiliar with. They didn't look back once or ever again check to see if I was okay later. They chose that. 

I chose self preservation, and I guess they did, as well. 

I don't know what else to say about it. There wasn't anything I could have done differently because I did not steer the conversation to where it went, and I certainly was not allowed to speak any coherent thoughts once it went there. That was their choice. They did not choose wisely. 

So, yeah. That's where I am at. 

I want them to be happy. I want everyone to be happy, but if your happiness comes at the price of other people not being able to speak, it's pretty fucking empty.