October 18. Don’t tell me what to do. in Scott

After the factory closed, it was strange not to have a boss bitching at me every day or so for stupid shit. For a while, he was on my Facebook friend list, but I realized I would always see him with distrust trying to be a nice guy when he had tormented me so much. I felt a sense of relief once all contact was broken with him and all the other people I once worked with. I felt a great weight lifted from me and part of that was because there was nobody to tell me what to do or how to be. I recall an incident of blowing up at my brother-in-law sister at their house about how they had tried to often tell me what to do with myself. I felt a little foolish afterward, and later I apologized, and my brother-in-law apologized for being a dick sometimes. It was all cool. It was interesting how after that incident no family member tried to tell me what to do or how to be. I don’t think my father had ever liked me for how I was because I was the troubled kid in the family.

Every night it seems I have dreams with some aspect of that old factory involved. Often there is someone from those decades. I worked in that factory in the dreams. At times in the dreams I found myself yelling at those who had made my life hell at times by being bosses or trying to push me around believing they had some power over me. There was one man I let push me around and I was afraid of reacting to him with anger because it could get me fired. Finally, one day I just got fed up and I got in his face and started screaming back at him, and after that he didn’t try to boss me around or if he did, I would snarl at him or I would make a joke of it all. I try to be a nice guy, but that person and so many others that were a little and a lot cruel to me I will always detest. I don’t want to know people that enjoy pushing others around. The owner of that company was very condescending and several times I had to walk away from him because uncharacteristically my fists clenched and I had to get away fearing my temper. I’m not a person that gets into fights and I’d probably get my ass kicked if I did. But all of us can only take so much we can all only be pushed so far. I did not want to find my breaking point.

There is a sense of liberation in not having to answer to a boss. Some authority figure. If I get pulled over by a cop, I will be the epitome of a good citizen. If I have trouble with neighbors, I will be cool. But it’s a wonderful feeling I don’t have to take orders from anyone anymore. My bird Max will peck at my ear an irritation or hurry up and get me some food. I will allow that kind of bossing. A little bird to manipulate me because I laugh with love about it all.

It’s only been in the recent years since my retirement that I’ve been able to see how cruel my father was to me in my youth. Some of that came out in therapy. For the first 22 years of my life living in his house, I felt his control. I suffered his yelling and ill humor. He was a very angry man, and I was often the subject of his anger. It was one great weight off me when I finally moved out. Yet so much of my life my father had some hold over me some control. It was only after he died at that control died. Or most of it. Even after his death, I felt him controlling me and how I tried to be, and it took work to let go of the guilt of not being All he wanted me to be. Which was ironically, something he could never tell me. He once told me just don’t be you. Yes he was a son of a bitch at times.

I have thought of getting some part-time job, but I feel a screaming anxiety about it. Going back to someone barking orders at me. Taking that shit home with me and wanting to literally put someone through a wall because of their tone with me. But I would never resort to violence. I would just say fuck this and quit. It psychologist told me that because of the negative atmosphere because of the toxic atmosphere I worked in for 43 years. I have PTSD from it. I get set off by people yelling, and there were so much yelling in the factory. The power freaks loading it over myself and others. They were so often so sadistic, but once the factory closed, they try to be so nice people and I wondered what was the real person? Such a relief, though I don’t have to bother with them anymore. I was an actor for 43 years and although people knew intimate parts of my life, they never truly knew me because I had to bow and watch what I said and not react in anger as they would. A few times I did, but I said it was mental illness. It was great to work in one place for 43 years but emotionally and psychologically I made my sacrifices.

I thought of doing volunteer work and people have suggested I do it as well. But again, even as a volunteer, would I be able to take orders from someone? How much shit would I be able to put up with? It is such a relief. I don’t have the sadistic bastards hovering over me anymore. I have no problem with birds telling me what to do.😁