The Ultimatum To Cat-- Because I Couldn't Do It Anymore

I know things seem very silent these days on my blog.

However, I’ve been doing quite a lot of private entries, to be opened up eventually when I felt it was right to do so… Some will stay private, for reasons which will become clear over time. There’s a story that’s been playing out over the last few weeks that finally is resolving itself…

In a nutshell:

Cat went off her natural antidepressant medication late last fall, which resulted in her mood and behavior tanking. About three weeks ago there was a confrontation with her after a weekend visit by Reese and Sleep led to all three of us walking out on her when she was having a tantrum/meltdown due to feeling overwhelmed and not happy with how we weren’t all capitulating to her overly-exacting standards. She was awful! She was rude to the extreme (but making excuses for it of course!) and she had been crashing right through all my very carefully stated boundaries for weeks!

(As one example, right before R & S’s visit, Cat and I went out and I ended up dissociating so badly I couldn’t be present during conversations to do much more than count negative statements. Cat made 1 positive statement, 3 neutral statements and 97 negative statements!! Being around THAT kind of Debbie Downer, Whining Wendy, and Negative Nancy was unbearable!)

Her behavior over the months led to my having another depressive episode (first time since the divorce) and I was quickly fading into suicidal obsession. I realized I was in trouble and I made two decisions: 1- To begin taking St. John’s Wort (at a higher starting dose) and if it didn’t help to go on Prozac again after my next doctor’s appointment in May.

AND–

2- To give Cat an ultimatum: Either get back on her mood supplementation again (and at a high enough dose to be adequate) and start therapeutic reading/listening and/or go on antidepressant medication again and get a regular therapist. But she HAD to address her mood disorder and fast!

OR–

If Cat was unwilling to get help for herself, I was going to start making plans to move out. I was ready to die at that point, so I guess homeless and away from her bitch ass would be better than death, right? Right! I was DONE with her going on and then off mood medications and going from okay and even pleasant to horribly negative and rude to the extreme. I can’t live with her if she won’t be responsible for her own mental health, and further, I am not going to keep being her cheap, in-house therapist whose advise she just ignores!!! I never signed on to be her emotional punching bag and I’m sick of being too scared of having no where else to go to stand up for myself.

So I did. The same week I made that plan was when Reese and Sleep were visiting, and they saw for themselves how bad it was. Cat wanted everyone to confront her over emails or texts so she could answer without flipping out. So– we did! I spoke to her in person as well, but we all wrote emails to her (CCing one another as per Cat’s request so there was no confusion about who said what or how) and we all told her the same thing 3 different ways– that she HAD to start taking her own mental health seriously or risk losing all her friends.

And that’s just it… without me, Cat would have no renters, because besides me, I’m the one that vets the other renters for Cat’s increased income. I’m the one who recruits outside help to work on her property for free (or for room and board for visits). Cat doesn’t like other people being around a lot, but she doesn’t want to be alone, either. But I’d rather be alone than with her the way she’s been for months now. I can’t overstate how completely terrible it’s been to be around her lately. I mean, I was smoking cannabis DAILY– me, me who barely touches the stuff a couple times a week to catch up my sleep! I was constantly one or two steps away from a panic attack and exhausted from that relentless management of a constant state of panic and overwhelm.

And the result..?

Cat’s done a total 180! In the last 3 weeks since our confrontation with her, she’s started St. John’s Wort again, upped her microdosed magic mushroom intake, and begun actively looking for therapists. While she’s waiting to find a counselor, she’s listening to audio books about DBT and CBT therapy. AND– best of all, she’s shown she has the ability to not be a total bitch and doom-saying downer all the time because she’s nearly stopped that completely. There have been 2 minor incidents in 3 weeks and she backed off by herself both times, apologized, and then done better.

I’m STUNNED.

Cat acted like such a fucking victim for SO long I guess I was beginning to believe her bullshit! But no, turns out she had the ability to be courteous and decent all along! And, autistic or not, she simply CHOSE NOT TO.

Desperate, I called her bluff — because going off mood meds is indeed a choice! — and when she couldn’t be Queen Baby Tantrum and keep all her toys anymore, she … quit being Queen Baby Tantrum. Autism spectrum or not, she’s still an adult and her behavior affects how other people treat her.

Though she’s had a few hard days, since she started taking meds again, her moods have already improved, even though she’s under much more pressure to behave herself. Which proves my point better than anything else ever could. She was always capable of being a better person, but until she was forced to, she wasn’t going to go there on her own.

I honestly didn’t give her the ultimatum to manipulate her. I truly intended to leave if she wasn’t going to deliver! There was no way I could live under someone’s power who makes me panic every single fucking day. I did that under my father. And then later under my ex Gerick when he was being a serious prick. I’m too old for this shit! Being chronically ill and dependent upon others mean that I’ve been treated like SHIT my whole life and I’m just fucking DONE with that. I’d rather be dead, and I’m not kidding. No more emotional punching bag shit for this woman.

Love me or leave me the FUCK alone!

I made my ultimatum expecting that Cat would be very upset, but would still stubbornly refuse to do as I asked because… I don’t know why! She puts her feet down and refuses to admit when she’s made a mistake or is just plain wrong. Not once!

But maybe, for once, I’m not falling into the hole for daring to say “Stop emotionally abusing me!”

Cat has taken advantage of me beyond a doubt. But I let her because I felt guilty that I couldn’t work and contribute more to the household. However, I didn’t choose this illness and it’s stupid to feel guilty. But I was trained to accept bad treatment by my emotional abusive parents and it’s hard for me to naturally feel that I deserve better. Decades of on and off therapy have slowly brought me around and here we are… for the better or the homeless.