A Drunk Guy, a Bad Call, and an Unexpected Cure

I was playing poker recently at a casino when a very drunk guy, dressed to the nines from a wedding and still clutching his drink, sat down at our table.

Security almost escorted him out immediately.

They didn't.

In hindsight, maybe they should have. 😂

For over an hour, this drunk guy slowed the game to an agonizing crawl. The poker dealers had to repeatedly explain basic rules to him.

Eventually, I found myself down to a third of my starting stack. Holding pocket sevens, I watched the flop come Queen-Queen-Four. It was just the drunk player and me left in the hand. I pushed all-in for my remaining $65, hoping his altered state might make him fold.

Instead...

He confidently tossed out $15 and declared, "I call."

Everyone at the table was confused. The bet to him was $65, not $15, but in his drunken fog, he was proudly convinced he'd made the right move.

In poker, verbal statements are binding, so when he said "call," that meant he needed to put in the full $65.

As the players and the dealer tried to explain this over and over to him, he looked back at his cards and apparently realized he should fold.

His confidence suddenly gone, he slowly slid his cards face-down across the line and said,

"I fold."

His cards went so far across the betting line that they actually wedged themselves under a few chips in front of the dealer. In any poker room in the world, that's an absolute, undeniable muck—a dead hand.

By now, things had gotten so ridiculous that the floor managers were called over. After several minutes of trying to explain to the drunk guy that because he'd verbally called, he owed the full $65, one of the managers added,

"But you can retrieve your cards."

At this point I was standing up, and I asked, "Why is that not a muck?"

I asked again. "Why is that not a muck?"

One player at the other end of the table seemed to read my plight. He looked at me with a face that practically said, "Oh, if he doesn't fold, you still might lose."

I asked again. "Why is that not a muck?"

While I kept interjecting, one of the managers finally responded, "We're not going to make him pay without letting him use his cards."

I couldn't believe it!

I tried one last time.

"The cards are touching the chips!"

The drunk guy finally put in the rest of the money he owed, dug his cards out from under the pot, and said, "Maybe I'll get lucky."

He did.

Of course an Ace came on the river.

Of course he had an Ace.

Of course he won.

I slammed my cards down and snapped,

"Thanks a lot!"

Without missing a beat, one of the managers replied,

"You're welcome."

Seriously? Really?

I was L I V I D.

An hour later, I was sitting at a slot machine still steaming.

At least I had enough awareness to realize I was still piping mad, so I was literally trying breathing exercises to calm down (which sounds funny now, but at the time I was beyond livid).

My mind started doing what minds do best: taking one embarrassing moment and turning it into a full-blown catastrophe.

Great.

Everyone saw that.

The managers hate me.

The players are talking about me.

The whole poker room thinks I'm unstable.

I'm going to have to find a new casino.

Maybe move to another state.

Witness protection might be my only option.

To the casino staff, this was probably just another Tuesday.

To me, it was apparently the end of civilization.

Looking back, I doubt anyone would remember that I got mad—just that the ruling itself was ridiculous.

They'd remember the incident.

Not me.

A little while later, I spotted one of the players from the table and practically flagged him down.

"Hey," I asked, "did he muck those cards?"

Without hesitation, he said,

"Absolutely. Everyone was talking about it."

Then he added,

"I'd have been pissed, too."

And just like that, the steam was gone.

Apparently, "I'd have been pissed, too" is oddly therapeutic.

Who knew? 😂

Following in the Foot Steps You Choose

It was a relief when I found out through therapy in my mid 30s that my Dad (stepDad since I was 11) wasn't "just" a jerk, but that he had issues, some mental issues.  Further, because he was on ativan (a medicine), that heightened his anxiety, moods, anger, and paranoia.

Turns out he was diagnosed with an immature personality (and something else that I can't recall) and that's why he was discharged from the air force. 

My Mom and I never knew this information, though, during the 25 years of dealing with his verbal abuse.  To find out he wasn't really an asshole, he was just born that way with some mental issues and that the meds he was on exacerbated his anger, really made my Mom and I feel better.  As weird as that sounds, lol.

I guess it's a relief to find out someone is mean because of their mental wiring, not because they chose to be mean.

Don't get me wrong - my Dad was also a very GREAT man and had many amazing qualities you wish for in a Dad.  He just didn't know how to control his anger.

Every time I watch Evil Lives Here, (a show that documents family members who lived with a family member who was demented and evil and caused havoc on their lives and others), I am reminded how tough my childhood was, and that others also went through hellacious childhoods (much, much worse than mine for sure).

I don't think often about that part of my childhood.  Sometimes it comes up maybe in conversation, but I don't worry about it or think about it or let it affect me.

What I DO do though is I just try not to be that person.  Being raised in a verbally abusive household, it was only natural for me to become the same way.  I hate that person in me, and when I ever raise my voice, I get really upset at myself after for it.  I've tried to work on it for YEARs and have come a REALLY long way.  I am proud of myself for this self reflection and realization.

It helped that I had great people in my life that miraculously helped me overcome becoming a verbal abuser.  Whether a boyfriend who made calm comments, an ex husband who helped me not yell at waiters, to my friend June who helped my self-esteem, to the leadership at my work.... they all played an integral role in helping me not be a daily or responsive verbal abuser.

I see living life as learning experiences; and growing from them.  And from my eyes, I am not bitter, angry, mad, nor feel sorry for myself.

I never have regrets about anything in my life.  I don't even look back and wish he didn't treat my Mom and I badly; it was our life and we lived it and we survived it.  I don't see my childhood as a bad childhood.  It was just the way I lived.  He didn't know any better.  He had a Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde personality for sure, but we all survived it.  :)  

So, while the title might say "Following in the Foot Steps You Choose," I didn't even know I shouldn't be a verbal abuser until others helped me see otherwise.  Of course, I fully agree my personality allowed me to not blow off the help/words from friends, and to instead embrace the reality that verbal abuse is wrong and I can work on that in myself.

So, while I "chose" the decision, it was one brought to my attention for over 10-15 years, and then I finally was able to control it.  Yes, it took that long to tame.

Verbal Abuse Memory Trigger

Tough watching "Evil Lives Here" last night on the ID channel.  A guy was explaining when he would get beat by his Dad as a child - usually over very small, miniscule infractions.

Reminded me very strongly all the times my Dad would lay into me.  My Mom and I were verbally abused so much and so loudly, that my neighbors could hear the damage to our souls all the way from our house to theirs.  My neighbor told me once she thought that one day they would eventually hear no noise or sounds... and would need to call the cops.

Luckily that never happened.

One time my Dad laid into me because a fork wasn't completely dry when I put it in the silverware drawer after drying the dishes.  I used a towel to dry it, but it was still a little wet and he didn't like that at all.

I remember arriving to high school in tears one morning. My teacher asked me what was going on as she hugged me.  She was older with white hair, and a limp prolly from a hip injury.  I bawled telling her I get yelled at all the time and forced to stay awake at all hours because I had to listen to my Dad yelling at me for hours on end.

She told me to just hang in there - I only had about a year and a half left of high school and then I'd be on my way to college.

Little did I know this yelling and verbal abuse would continue off and on until my mid 30s.

I survived, though, and so did my Mom.  The wounds and words and memories are still fresh sometimes though.  As in the case of the reminder from the tv show, or in some nightmares about 3 times a year.

Letting Go of Toxic People

I have alluded to the fact that I have been trying to find peace.  The main reason for that is because I was in a toxic relationship for FAR too long.  But, I didn't know it until it was finally completely done with.

Once I was finally ridden of this person in my life, my entire being got better.  I got more sleep.  I was happier.  I didn't cry anymore.  I wasn't stressed.  Even my memory got better (because I was under so much stress from this toxic person).  I was more productive at work.  I cared more about my health.  I had more time to do things for me (whereas before everything revolved around how I was suppose to react towards him).

It's literally freeing!

So, been trying to do things that bring me peace.  Because I didn't have peace and comfort for over a year and a half.

Toxic people make you think you are loved, but in reality, it's a game to them.  They use you, abuse you mentally, break you down, then lift you up.  Make you believe things that aren't even true.

I've cried so much it sucks.  Then he'd say magical things to make me "believe" again.

The true definition of toxic.

And I am SO much happier away from it!

I am disappointed in myself for not seeing what was going on though.  But I admit I was lied to and my heart and mind were played with.

I honestly pray that this person doesn't play these games intentionally.  That would be so sad if it was all intentional.

But, not my problem anymore!

Happier times now.  Peaceful times.  No Crying.  No roller-coaster of emotions on almost a daily basis for months on end.

PEACEFUL feels SO good!  So amazing.

Let go of toxic people in your life!  You will be so much happier.  You will see so many parts of your life get better once they are out of your life.  Trust me.

Many of us have no idea we are in a toxic relationship until we finally get the hell out of 'em.  We suffer and suffer and don't know why we are mostly depressed and hurting, until we finally break free from the chaos.

The toxic person is like an anchor trying to drown us.  They let us up for air and give us hope and some happiness every once in a while, and we can see the sun and shimmer of happiness again with them, but then they just pull the anchor back down into the deep and darkness while we suffocate in life.  Let go of the anchor completely and rise to the top so you can breathe good and free again every single day.  Do it for yourself.  You deserve it.

Here are more details about that toxic relationship I was in.  I am ashamed I didn't realize I was being verbally abused.

It's actually very difficult to write this out and admit, but I was in a relationship where I was verbally abused.

What's crazy is, I didn't even recognize it at the time.

All I saw was an upset b/f who would be mean to me, break up with me, then try and get back with me within days.  He would worm his way back into my life with sweet words and failed promises.

And this back and forth chaos happened over the span of a year and a half.

Months after I FINALLY stopped talking to him and blocked all the avenues he could reach me, I happened to share with a friend the things my ex would say to me, and about the relationship in general.

And he replies, "How could you keep going back to him all those times after he was so mean and rude to you?"

As a mature, smart woman, I all of a sudden wondered that myself right at that moment, for the very first time.

I, then, at that moment, knew I had been verbally abused and didn't even realize it.  :(

It reminded me of ALL those stories we have heard our whole life of a woman being physically abused who keeps going back.  I was that woman, too, but it was verbal and emotional abuse.

I have kept all of his mean texts and crappy voice mails.  He would tell me lovingly in a soft voice, "Let's forget about that.  Let's move on.  Delete them.  I'm not upset anymore.  That was in the past.  I'm not that way anymore.  Just get rid of them."

But I saved them all.

And within just a couple of weeks (or less) after being nice again, he would get upset and then he would lay into me again.

Bottom line - he would be the sweetest guy in the world, but when he would let his thoughts consume him, he would lash out at me and be mean.  Then a couple of days later or a few days later, he would call or text after he was feeling better and say how much he was sorry and loved me and wanted me back.  I fell for it hook, line, and sinker because he was a very good manipulator (and a narcissist).

Here are some examples of the mean things (that I can share) that he said to me:

• You are the biggest whore in the world
• Good luck at 50
• You are a slut
• You''ll never find a good man like me
• I know you are seeing someone
• You are no good.

Etc etc.

I never once cheated on him.  I thought I was in love with him and that isn't even in me to see or talk to anyone else while in love.  Unfathomable, really.  So I was very confused by his continual accusations.  And that led to being scared to do or say anything, in fear to upset him.

Over and over again for a year and a half I would hear his words of hate, and yet then still take him back again because he would be all sweet and try to convince me to give him another chance.   I was convinced I was in love and that he loved me.  He talked about marriage and our future.

He was a smart manipulator.

At one point during that year and half of chaos, I caught him talking to numerous other girls, so I broke up with him (I thought for good).  But he had an excuse for it all and after 4 months, it was like my brain forgot, and actually took him back because of his sweet words and fake promises of our future together. 

I believed him; like a stupid fool.  And then the verbal abuse would return, and I kept putting up with it.   It was an extremely vicious, cruel cycle that I found myself in.  And it was extremely difficult get away from because he was so convincing.

And honestly, if someone loves you so deeply, how can they treat another so badly?

He would tell me often he needed to work on things, but then ease his way back into my life, be nice, then be mean again.

It's all the typical signs of abuse if you look up the stats:  

Here are just some of signs I read about, that you are being verbally abused:

1. You feel worse after disagreements
2. He calls your ex "crazy" for her allegations
3. You don't feel free to spend time with people and pursuits you love
4. Sometimes you feel you are dating Dr. Jekyll and My. Hyde
5. He says that he'll kill himself or you or the pet if you leave
6. They accuse you of cheating
7. They are jealous all the time
8. Calls you names
9. Intimidating you
10. Demeaning
11. Excessive Texting 
12. Control where you can go or what you can do

I can say he NEVER did number 5.

But boy, did I feel like I was dating Dr. Jekyll and Mr Hyde!  A LOT.

And everything I did, if I ever went out, I was scared he would take it wrong.  If I didn't answer the phone he'd FREAK out.  And then leave crappy messages or never answer when I would call back.  I had to check in a lot - what I was doing and where I was going - because he never believed me for some reason and I was very scared he would lash out at me.

I could not use my phone in front of him because he always thought I was texting other guys. 

(I'm getting upset as I type this!)

I am not sure why I put up with it all except I believed him when he said he would never be mean to me again, and I thought I really did love him.  Or that he loved me and "we belonged together - how could we not, we are perfect for each other," he would gush as I wiped away my tears.

I am ashamed I let him treat me this way.

It's funny how at times during the relationship I thought it was truly amazing.  Complete bliss, almost.  To only realize most of the time I was depressed and upset because of the verbal abuse and chaos of the Dr. Jekyll and My Hyde personality I was trying to cope with. 

I was very very stressed and it even caused memory issues.  As soon as we stopped talking, my memory issues magically disappeared..

I realize now that he is a narcissist. But that doesn't take away from the fact I let someone be mean to me for so long because I was blind.  That's hard to swallow.   I know I am much better without him and I am thankful I am away from him for good.  But still ashamed and disappointed I could let someone be so mean to me for so long and I kept going back to his lies.

 

5 Things Real-Life Psychopaths Do:  ARTICLE LINK HERE.

Excerpts:

1.  They're extremely charming.

2.  They don't experience any remorse.

3.  They're really arrogant.

4.  They take big risks.

5.  They're master manipulators.

Verbal Abuse and College

It's very difficult for me to express how torn I am about my Dad.  I call him my Dad because he was in my life since 11, but he is my StepDad.  My Real Dad, I say "Real Dad," to distinguish. 

My Dad was a very difficult man to live with.  He verbally abused my Mom and I for 25 years.  You may think that's silly.  "If he was in your life starting at 11, then that means he verbally abused you into your mid 30s?" you are asking yourself.  "How can anyone verbally abuse an adult child that moved away?"

Easy.

Even though I moved out to go to college at 18 and then lived on my own after that, even though I wasn't physically around for him to verbally abuse me, he did it via long distance, on the phone; through that stupid, freaking phone.  Or when I visited them throughout the next 18 years.

My torture lies in the fact that my Dad was a very strong proponent of college.  He kinda forced me to get good grades.  I really had no choice.  He wouldn't allow it.  He was the strict one of the two for sure.

My Mom always felt bad when I said that it was my Dad that made me go to college.  I do accept that my Mom was a huge proponent of me going to college, also, and she paid for most of my loans and ensured I was taken care of.  But she didn't get on to me about my grades.  My Dad was the one who would kill me if I came home with bad grades.  I was literally too scared NOT to get good grades.

So here is my dilemma that I have struggled with.  The man that verbally abused me, made me go to college.  Because of that, I have a great paying job, a great house, a great car, a great life.  Because of him. 

Sure, I had some help along the way with my decisions, but I had to first live in a home knowing I had no choice about going to college.

But, it's the man who verbally abused me and really, honestly, made it very tough for my Mom and I.  For 25 years.

I would find out through counseling (that I had to start going to at age 35 because I could no longer handle his anger and rudeness) that he prolly had a few mental issues (like immature personality disorder for example) that had something to do with his extreme anger, weird paranoia, and negativism.

He would call me from San Antonio, when I lived in the Dallas area, and ask me where my Mom was.

What?  I have no idea.  I am 34 years old and live 5 hours away.   

"She's not at home from work yet.  It's already 7pm and she got off at 5pm.  She's prolly dead on the side of the road after being raped," he would say with such conviction like he truly believed it.

"What?  Uh, no I haven't heard from her. I'm sure she's ok.  Running an errand or something."

"Well, if she doesn't come home soon, I'm gonna have to call the police."

"Ok, well, let me know...." I begged, as he slammed the phone in my ear.

And later I would call and he would answer all fine, "Oh, I forgot she had to go to the grocery store."  Never once thinking to call and update me on her missing, bloodied body.

One time at Christmas, I was living away after college and I bought all these presents for him and my Mom.  He opened one of the boxes and it was these cool slippers I thought he would like.

He opens them, looks at the size, and then THROWS them across the room! "Those aren't my size," he'd yell all upset and angry and hurt, like a little kid.

There were times my Dad was the greatest.  When I bought my first car, my Mom went into the house jealous without saying a word to me; I was DEEPLY hurt.  My Dad, he came up to me, kissed me on the forehead and said "I'm so proud of you, kid."  He knew my unreliable truck needed to be replaced and he also knew the feeling of your first-ever-new-car.  He also knew, "I made it."  I had a good job; because I went to college.

He also used to write little notes all the time to my Mom.  Most were apology notes, but many were how much he loved her, with really sweet words.  And after I moved away, he would write me letters about his every day life at home after he was disabled from severe heart disease and diabetes (he would joke about the squirrels or talk about his fav dog/cat).  I even found a note after his passing, that he left for me that was very sweet, special, and surprising how he left it for me to find!

Please don't think his verbal abuse was a daily thing; as it wasn't.  But, it was often enough that my Mom and I had to be very careful how we worded things; and we were very nervous and scared a lot.  It got worse with his age and because he was in so much pain from his health issues.  I suppose he took it all out on us when he would get hurt, upset, enraged, or was in pain.  For 25 years we endured his Dr Jekyll and My Hyde personality.

But, he also hung up on me a lot.  As someone who didn't understand what was going on, it was pretty tough to get yelled at then the phone slammed down in your face.

I didn't know til his funeral that he did the same thing to his sisters.  I wish I would have known that before; it would have saved me a lot of pain to know he was like that to everyone, not just special 'ole me.  When I heard from my Aunt, "he used to do that to me, also" I started to bawl.  Like a baby.

He would also yell at waiters and waitresses a lot if his food order was wrong.  My Mom and I always got scared when we went out to eat with him because we never knew if he would blow up at some unfortunate soul for something he overreacted about.  We were embarrassed and ashamed a lot.

About 5 months before his death, he was so mean and terrifying to my Mom's nurses at the hospital, the Doctor told me they were close to calling security to remove him from the premises!  As I reflect back, of course now I see that my Dad was just frightened himself about my Mom's health and wanted the nurses to treat her better.  He didn't know how to handle his emotions except through anger and yelling.

It turns out I became a pro a yelling at people.  :(  I learned from the best!  I used to not be able to control it, but I am 1000 times better now.

However, if you see that side of me, it means I'm REALLY pissed.  I hope no one ever sees that side of me.  It's not pretty.

But, when all you see your entire childhood and into your 20s is verbal abuse, I admit I didn't know any better;  I didn't know I wasn't suppose to yell at people.  Eventually my Mom would have to yell back at him, when she had the balls.  His voice would rise like the loudest clap of thunder you ever heard.  With his mean stare, loud voice, ugly and mean words, we mostly cowered.  We hardly ever defended ourselves because we were so damn scared of him.

My neighbors would tell me later that they always thought they would need to call the cops, because they could hear him yelling at my Mom through the walls and feared the worst sometimes.

He used to keep me up all night a lot in my teens and just talk to me... ALL night long.... about what I needed to do and what I was doing wrong.  If I yawned, he would yell at me, "Am I boring you?!?!"  This is at 3am when he's been berating me for hours on end, usually on a school night.

One time I fainted in church the next day because he kept me up all night. 

I was SO thankful my Mom used to get up at 415am for work, because I could finally get away from him and run into my room when she would walk down the hall to ask him, "what is she still doing up?"

One Summer when I was in college, I was trying to take a nap in the middle of the afternoon at my boyfriends apartment.  He was messing with the radio in the living room and it kept me from sleeping.  I finally couldn't handle it anymore!  I flew out the bedroom door, stormed into the living room, and shouted at him, "I'M TRYING TO FUCKING SLEEP IN HERE!  TURN THAT DOWN!"

I stormed back into the room and jumped back in the bed, with a huge scowl on my forehead.  I was SO angry he was being so rude and inconsiderate!

He came in a few minutes later.  I figured he was going to apologize, but I was not ready to accept any apology from him!  I was too agitated and upset.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and said to me, almost in a whisper, and with very calm words, "All you had to do was ask."

And he left the room.

That was THE first time I learned you didn't have to yell at people to get them to do things.  That you SHOULDN'T yell at people.  Honestly.  First time I ever knew that.  :(

I was 22 years old.

I'm like any child - I did what my parents did and learned from example.  I acted just like them.  They would yell like that at each other ALL the time at the house.  I honestly knew no different.  My Dad would even wake up my Mom or I just to yell at us for something that had been festering in his mind for a couple of hours overnight.  It was brutal.

My Dad loved my Mom and I more than anything in this world.  I was the daughter he always wanted.  His wife, he considered his soul mate.  But, he had some issues that made him not understand his severe verbal abuse issues.

Since he has passed and I can think clearer, it's pretty obvious he had some mental issues.

I came home from college one time and put on the dining table about 10-20 pages I printed about verbal abuse.  He picked them up, looked at the title and said, "What is this?  I don't do this." and slammed them down on the table and stomped away very angry.

Yea, I did not handle that well.

What was I thinking?  He'd magically read all the papers and have an 'Ah Ha' moment and stop yelling at us?

So, after the incident from the boyfriend, I am NOT exaggerating to tell you it still took me 10-14 years to finally stop yelling at people.  Even tho I heard what the b/f at the time said, and FINALLY found out verbal abuse and yelling was NOT the norm, it still took me a very long time to stop doing it.

I had a couple of friends who helped me.  They would point out when I was treating waiters and waitresses wrong.  It was such a habit for me!  And I was only able to finally control it after years and years.  As I type this, I am SHOCKED it took me 10-14 years to stop yelling at people for little things for no reason.  It was tough to control.  :(

Why did my Mom stay?  Well, she didn't want another "divorce" on her hands.  She felt ashamed if another marriage didn't last.  That's how she was raised - in a time period where divorce was a huge failure looked down on.  And so she stayed with him for all those years so SHE wouldn't look bad.

He continued to hang up on me, yell at me on the phone, and was very rude to me off and on even after I left the roost.  In my mid 30s, I finally bought a tape recorder thingy for my cell phone to record his harassing messages and phone calls.  I couldn't take it anymore.  It was causing me to go into SEVERE depression, and that's about the time I also seeked counseling (which was very helpful, btw).  I don't know what I planned with those messages.  I again assumed he would magically not yell at us anymore if I showed him and made him hear himself, and how he treated us.  I never did tell him about the tapes.  I hope I never run across them.

After his passing, my Mom used to have dreams/nightmares of him yelling at her.  I still have those dreams/nightmares to this day.  It's not pleasant, I admit. 

But, as much as I should be upset and ticked at my Dad for verbally abusing my Mom and I, it is still because of his love for me that I grew up in a household where college was the ONLY option.

I was very blessed that my Dad and I got along the last 6 months of his life.  Before that, I was very upset at him and didn't like him for treating my Mom badly.  Yell at me all you want and hang up on me all the time, but when he continued to yell and scream at my Mom, it broke my heart and caused me to not like him for many years.  I don't think he knew how I felt, as I obviously couldn't show him.  The last thing you want is the wrath from my Dad.  That was not a good thing to see or be a part of.

But, the last six months, he trusted me 100% with his life and my Mom's life and finally saw me as an adult.  He even started to not make ANY decisions without me.  I'm talking BIG decisions; and any and all decisions or choices for he and my Mother.  He finally saw me as the responsible adult he and my Mom had raised.  I enjoyed our last six month together and got to see the REAL Dad in that body.

It's extremely difficult for me to talk about this, as I don't want people to think bad of him, and he still has relatives (sisters and brothers) that I am in contact with.  But the facts are the facts.  He could be a really bad person, but he could also be a really good person.

I see living life as learning experiences; and growing from them.  And from my eyes, I am not bitter, angry, mad, nor feel sorry for myself.

I never have regrets about anything in my life or my past.  I believe everything happens for a reason.  I don't look back and wish he didn't treat us badly; it was our life and we lived it and we survived it.  I don't see my childhood as a bad childhood.  It was just the way I lived.  He didn't know any better.  I have to say it was a relief to find out he prolly had some sort of mental disease.  I never wanted to think he was just a jerk.  He just had a Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde personality for sure, but we survived it.