Sometimes with Top Ramen

March 2 - 3, 2022

‎Thursday, ‎March ‎3, ‎2022

‎3/‎3/‎22

06:19:02 AM

Crackhead knocked 4x this evening - seemed like very little amount compared to normal

However, the crackhead did knock at 3:37am and just now at 5:53am. Then at 8:45am. There was yelling at least 5 different times down there, and door slamming 5-6 times. Really loud, shake-the-house slams.

Haven developed a stammer today while I was too sick to move and no one else had been there to offer him care or attention or the most basic of concern in any way. I was hoping that Max would take the initiative to get Haven set up for the day, since I had obviously been very sick since the early evening before - when Max got back, both Haven and I were passed out on the couch, and I never got up. I never sleep in, either, and so that should have been a red flag to Max that I was unwell; the fact that Haven was up and I was not. Like, when I HAVE to leave for an hour or more, the few times in the past 5 months that I have, I make sure Haven has food set out, and then that he has reserves of food easily accessible in case something happens, like in case I get "stuck" somewhere, or if Max decides to lock me out. I make sure he has all the food he could possibly need for at least 12 hours, and drinks, too. I make sure he has fresh ice water and a bottle ready or easily made to be ready (clean and empty), I make sure there are kids juice boxes in his snack drawers. He knows how to get these open now and will smash them, worse case scenario. He's been smashing things lately. It's pretty awesome, I think. Additionally, I make sure that Haven's toys are put away/set up for play in an attractive, engaging way, because I know Max won't be interacting with him, and I want to make that experience as painless as possible for Haven. It's true- these are things I do each time I have to leave, and it takes hours, but I can't leave for any period of time anymore without prepping things for Haven because I just dont know how fucked up Max is going to get and what's going to happen. He's very selfish and unpredictable that way to me - I just can't fathom the choices he makes, how he could be so emotionally vacant, absolutely void of any empathy for his son.

When Haven had got up, he brought his blankets "tags" dragging behind him to the couch - Max must have been in the bathroom (he spends an insane amount of time in the bathroom and expects me to think it takes him that long to "take a shit" multiple times a day, every day). I'd been asleep on the couch, I had put clean blankets on it for Haven the morning before (thank god). Haven cried about me being on the couch, so I asked him if he wanted me to move so he could lay on the couch. My head was pounding and pounding. A few times I imagined I was dying. Haven said yes, so I got up and brought my tortilla blanket with me to the bedroom, turning off the loud fan in there as I got into bed. I heard Haven crying in the living room, but my head was pouding and I was nauseous - it feld like high blood pressure sickness - and I couldn't imagine having to look for the remote control for the TV, put something on, deal with the high pitched TV sounds, And THEN have to be up and down to put on a new youtube show every 4-10 minutes. There was no way. So I stayed in bed.

While Max was leaving I told him Haven needed food. He began arguing about it - denying my statement and demanding that I tell him what Haven needed for food, what would I get Haven to eat? I was so so sick and it hurt me to talk, so I named a few things that Haven needed - things Max should know by now. Max should know what his son usually eats, right? But he incredibly claims a complete ignorance to Haven's diet over and over again, and has since Haven needed more than formula. While Max was arguing with me, he told me that I'm ALWAYS sick, just a few breaths after responding: Oh, I BET you are! to my delivering the obvious information to him that I was sick. He told me there was enough in the house for me to "figure it out" on what to give Haven to eat. He loudly rambled in his psycho monologue way about how nothing is ever good enough for me and that I'll never be happy with anything he does, that even if he did everything that I do, I would find fault in it, how I'm always the victim, when really, it's the other way around and he is my victim.

Haven came and jumped on the bed, and it hurt so much to even try to interact that I had to wait for him to calm down and stop jumping to tell him in a hoarse, weak voice that I was sick and couldn't do anything. This had him pout-cry a little. Max came back with an orange and a package of raspberries and a not yet ripe pear. I'm guessing the things came from the Prius because he kept saying the berries were very old and about to go bad. And Haven doesn't even like pears. Haven followed Max to living room, but when the TV thing he was watching was over and I didn't respond to his loud "Uh'oh!!" he came back to the room, and I carried him from the room to the couch after a bit of whining and Haven trying to bring me back to life by being adorable. There was no way to explain to him I wasn't trying to withhold myself from him, that I just wasn't well.

I stumbled with him down the hall - littered with crap all the way from Max and his "cleaning," it was a filthy obstacle course of recycling, piss-saturated rags, dirty laundry, the bathroom trash, the other trash, more of Max's clutter, and then the toys of the living room. Brought him to the couch, he kept trying to get me back to normal by acting cute, which I just couldn't even really acknowledge, I felt nauseated and my head was POUNDING, I asked what he wanted to watch in a hurried way - the remote was on the chair next to the couch, thankfully - I put on the TV show and went into the kitchen and couldn't do whatever it was I wanted to for HAven - probably get him water or something - he'd already downed the entire package of raspberries. I wanted to cut up the orange for him. I could only sit very still on the kitchen floor, eyes sandy feeling and glazed over as I stared directly in front of me, immersed in pain but still fighting, trying to be alive for Haven, I sat there cross-legged, eventually beginning to lean forward a bit, my arms straight at my sides and touching the floor. I was able to put some saltines on the white cardboard display shelves in front of me and had eaten three, and this had given a heavy edge to my nausea - I was really feeling it. Haven kept coming into the kitchen and squatting in front of me, directly in front of me, naked and looking up at me with puppy dog eyes, so sad and confused, feeling like he'd done something wrong, or at least that there was something he could do to fix me by being cute. I hoarsely repeated to him that I didn't feel well and I was sick and I was so sorry, but couldn't get out more than those words. I can't Haven, I'm sick. I dont feel well, I'm sorry. I couldn't say more than that, and was too sick to even feel too sorry. I ended up laying down on the hardwood floor in a fetal position and felt much better that way - I didn't have any padding, like a jacket or pillows or a blanket or even socks - but I was able to sleep/not sleep like that until I got up to pee - Haven followed me to bathroom in time to watch me wipe - Hey, sweet boy, what's up? - I drug myself to the bedroom, grabbed my white blanket and what I hoped was a decent pillow and threw them on the kitchen floor, disappointing Haven with my continued disability and seeming callousness to his needs.

I woke up a bit better around 2:00pm, but I was nowhere near functional yet. As my pain was debilitating, but I feared it would return any minute, I hustled to get Haven food and water, put the TV on to "kitty in airplane," a funny cat video clips compilation. I gathered armfuls of opened chip bags, boxes of cracker, cereal boxes, and small kids juices. I poked the plastic-wrapped, glue-attached, thin orange straw into 2 Capri Sun pouches, put 2 ice cubes in a sippy cup of water and in a cup of water with a straw in it for me and didn't refill the ice tray, I cut up the orange. I had wanted to get him some salami slices and maybe some toast, but my time was up, and I laid back down on the wood floor with the blanket and pillow at the foot of the couch, while Haven sat above on the cushions. Every 5-15 minutes, he yelled "UH-OH MAMA" at me until I woke up enough to press the button on the remote to skip the commercial or go to the next available show, maybe 7-10 times. I finally woke up to him asleep in an uncomfortable-looking scrunch on the couch arm, his head sharply crooked upwards in the arm, and his body flat on the cushions. I didn't trust my body yet to move, but heard Max doing an odd shuffle in and out of the apartment. He told me he can't wait to move so that I'll be gone for good, that I'm not coming with him. Directly in front of Haven, as usual I guess. It'd be very strange if he did or said these things not in front of Haven. He said everything would be fine if it weren't for me, that I make everything worse. All I had done was tell him what Haven needed/wanted from Max, but Max wouldn't listen to me or do anything I told him Haven wanted to do, and Haven just screamed louder to Max's denials. Max seems very hung up on interrogating Haven when he's upset, when what Haven needs is Max's full attention and some gentle empathy along with subtle, no-pressure, undemanding distraction. Like, a hint of distraction offered, for Haven to take the bait for or not, with no pressure involved whatsoever. I think because he's a sociopath, Max doesn't know how to empathize with Haven and is retarded when it comes to trying to comfort him. Maybe he's actually trying to do what I tell him Haven needs him to do in order to get Haven to stop screaming at him, but all that he can get to come ouf ot his mouth are interrogation questions. He actually got up angrily and started to stomp away, which really got Haven to scream. Holy crap. His sociopath-ism had him frustrated. I tried to help Max in describing what Haven wanted: just be gentle and genuine and say nice things. Stop asking him questions. Just tell him stuff, tell him nice things about him. Tell him that you're proud of him and why. Haven's crying quieted after I would give direction, to see what Max would say, it was what Haven wanted and needed! But Max just couldn't. His best try was an impatient robotic parroting of something I had gently said while holding Haven's sweet baby foot a few moments before: I love you Haven. I am very proud of you. Haven just screamed louder after that, too.

I asked Max to make Haven more comfortable on the couch, just scoot him down a little, that I had no idea how long he'd been asleep or what time it was or anything. He woke Haven up and couldn't calm him down. I was able to calm Haven by reaching up and finding a sweet baby foot, telling him how brave he'd been that day, that he was such a good, sweet, strong boy.

After 1030pm Max followed me into the room just to continue to yell at me. I quickly plugged my ears with the blanket and waited for him to leave. He'd initially followed me to the room, but Haven was yelling his name, and I kept talking over Max's verbal attack: HAVEN IS YELLING YOUR NAME HEY HAVEN'S YELLING FOR YOU WHY DONT YOU CARE

Max finally paused to give an emphasized look back and down the hallway, craning his neck and bending back: He's fine, I'm looking right at him, he's on the couch

I told Max it was awesome that Haven was okay, but Haven wanted Max's attention and company, which is something I've had to remind him about (ineffectively) at least 2 other times (3 total).

Just prior to that, I'd been in the living room with Haven, and Max had come from somewhere for some reason to yell at me. He acted very aggressive with his body language and was very loud, all of it entirely unreasonable. He threatened to "have me removed" as I walked away from him. Haven had been screaming his name the entire time Max was yelling at me, and immediately as he began to yell at me, but he might as well have been screaming Max's name at a hysterical doorknob, for the effect it had on his father. He was yell-threatening me directly next to Haven: how about you leave TONIGHT?? he yelled at me in an inexplicable rage. He stood with his legs parted in a fighting stance, body leaned forward and his hands in fists. His face was red and furrowed with an ugly, spiteful intensity - he was very physically invested in his retributial threats. I decided to be the bigger person and just not engage with Max anymore. Not talk to him, not interact with him. Try and be gone with Haven, get my car fixed and be gone from here and Max, until he decides to take charge of his life and stop using us as his villain-things that keep him from a glamorous life of endless sexing and mountains of money and Wonwwr and its rat dog here 24/7 to make for endless happiness.

So I walked away from Max and he kept shooting insults at me, threatening to make me leave, telling me he's not afraid of me, despite Haven's pleading screams, his clawing at the parts of his dad's body within reach from where he stood naked on the couch, his face sad and desperate, arms with claw-hands outstretched and pawing. And I went in the room and the times he came in I told him to pay attention to his son who was screaming his name, and then I used the tortilla blanket to plug my ears until I thought he was gone, and if he wasn't gone, I plugged them again until he was. My arguing is not going to make any gains on the behalf of Haven or myself. It won't do anything. Max is insane because he has a mental disturbance and he is sick. He needs to get help, or else he's going to keep saying the same things and acting over-the-top angry for things that aren't real or that aren't given the same reaction by a person who is not seriously mentally disturbed like Max is.

Things are peaceful without Max here. Joyful sometimes, even, but it's hard to break the blanket of negativity Max has effectively spread over the property and over our emotional/mental state. It's heavy, and I've already had so much weighing me down. And the way he leaves this place a filthy mess makes it hard to keep the energy light, too. I can' tkeep up with his mess, and any time I need a break to let things slide for half a day or whatever, it makes such a huge difference in the messes left for weeks by Max that it really stresses me out, and I can't, but especially when I'm tired, it very much regrettably cuts into my time with Haven. It's kind of a lose-lose situation. So much confusion and need from Haven towards Max. I don't know how to fix it. I've expressed to Max every way I know how since Haven was born and pled to any motivation I could think that he may have in order to get Haven treated more fairly, if not help Haven obtain true affection and loyalty from his dad.

But Max seems ready to throw Haven under the bus any time, he still threatens CPS and talks delusionally about the situations he and his family created with that. He seemed in absolute denial the last time he brough up CPS and I once again reminded him that CPS was about to take Haven away from HIM, and never me, not since the case was dismissed was I actually threatened. HE failed a UA and then HE FAILED AGAIN, the only reason he passed future tests was because he used a fake weiner from the internet and mole pee or some crap that came in a powder form and he put it in this sack up next to his body that connected to the fake weener. And when it was time, he pulled out the fake weener instead of his real one and pushed a button or something and the fake pee came out. I remember, maybe in a record production, that there was something about the test facility reporting that his pee was deficient in a protein, but the deficiency was not enough for them to get him with a positive test result. Also, just before the case was dismissed, CPS filed an emergency motion for a hearing to remove Haven from residential placement with Max in the home of Max's parents (never was custody REMOVED from me, however. Being without a home doesn't give for much in the way of "placement," though.) for placement with Max's mom. After I brought that up, Max hissed at me, VERY pissed off at that (he gets very mad when I'm right), and he demanded I tell him why that happened. Then he proceeded to tell me I don't have any custody and that Haven is his and I have no rights to Haven, his same robot monologue of hate. It's astounding that he's still repeating these things to me after everything that's happened. After he talked to SO MANY police officers and went through SO MANY hearings about it, does he really still think this stuff? No matter what, for him to keep saying this stuff, with any motivation, is kind of text book insane and abuser-ly to me, and mixed with the other symptoms Max has been showing me, I really think that he might be losing his mind, at least a part of it.

I truly think Max is unwell and I do not think it would hurt him to be hospitalized until he is able to acknowledge he needs help and has something wrong with him. The fact that he won't acknowledge being aware of any thing wrong with any thing that he does ever is a HUGE warning sign. Like, all of us have things wrong with us. And the volume of his lies and his denial of the same is flooring. Like, almost everything he says is a lie. And the way he started buying Carhartts like crazy and washing them to shit to try and make them look worn, and started saying he does construction?! And very recently like since November or December he's started stomping around the house in boots with dried mud caked on them, so it dirties the entire house no matter what. He's declined jumping on the bed with Haven every time Haven has asked for the last 2 weeks or more, and says he's dirty, his pants are dirty, so he can't play on the bed whatsoever, no jumping or anything, like "daddy more tickles," something they used to do with both of them on the bed.

With Max's increased hatred of me for denying him sex, his rejection of Haven and any physical or pseudo-emotional involvement with him seems to have gone up proportionally.

He altogether stopped buying Haven food again. Yesterday, I had to ask him TWICE in ONE day to go to the store to get Haven food because I was sick, and he intentionally only got 1/2 of the 12 or less things I specifically asked for - 1 of the things he didnt get was something I told him was miraculously keeping me from getting ULCER-ABCESSES IN MY MOUTH AND BODY THAT HAVE BEEN FUCKING ME UP VERY BADLY - and instead of getting the rest of what was on the list, he either ignored the item or got some super strange variety of it, and what he DID get, he made sure to F** up in amount or something, except for apples - he got 2 each of the 2 specific kinds of apples I asked for. Fucking weid. I asked him at 7:30pm to get stuff from downstairs at the store before it closed, and he waited until 7:57 to get in his truck and drive away (the store closes at 8). I really wanted stuff from downstairs because there are things there that aren't available anywhere else, like chocolate chip flaxseed muffins, and the produce and meat department there are far superior to anywhere else nearby that I'm aware of. I couldn't go to the store myself because I have been very very sick and I have no clothes to wear. You should see what I'm wearing. Ive been wearing the same cut up shirt for 5 days or so (more?) because I dont have anything else, not even anything to cut up anymore. Now I'm missing a Nike shoe, Max might have thrown it away, so I might now have shoes now, in which case I'll have to wait for something from Mercari to be delivered. Fuck. Maybe I should buy some cheap shoes really fast.

The way he keeps having sex with me while I'm asleep. Why would that be something he's into so much? Why won't he admit that it's rape? Why won't he stop treating Haven so poorly, why won't he read any of the articles I print and leave in his piles of stuff and post on the fridge with magnets? Why won't he help with Haven's potty training instead of discouraging it, still, after being a huge obstacle to it for over a year now? Haven was potty trained in my care over a year ago, and Max and his family completely undid it. Why won't Max buy Haven food, and why does he claim stupidity any time I confront him about it? Why does he regularly declare he's never been a parent before, how should he know what Haven eats?

Why is it any time I'm not here, I return to find Max has given Haven goldfish crackers and 'Lil Smokies to eat, sometimes with Top Ramen? And Haven's taste for healthy food is never into it, so I always see the remaing evidence when I return because Max is a very messy, trashy person.

He leaves beer bottles and vaporizers and cigarette boxes and loose tobacco all over the house; in Haven's plain sight and reach, and usually among Haven's toys, and food and drinks. I've asked Max not to do that and told him why; that Haven is very easily influenced by everything both of us do right now, he's always consciously and subconsciously mimicking us. I realized that's why he ignores both of us so well; he sees Max intentionally ignore me ALL the time. And Haven looks the part, even. The other day he walked by the bathroom with Max and gave me this hate-filled glare - Haven did! And I couldn't tell you why! I asked Haven why he looked at me that way - and HE IGNORED ME. Another thing is how Max goes off on me for DAYS for not having his apartment as clean as he wants it to be, but refuses to acknowledge that most of it is his mess and almost none of it is my personal "mess." And he claims to be the only one who "cleans - EVER," but he makes a huge mess when he cleans, and only like mops the kitchen with dirty mop water. And for the odd amount of cleaning I've seen him do over the past few weeks since he stold my things (he must be looking for something specific he lost? because I've NEVER seen him do the bedroom and he cleaned nearly the entire thing except for the far against-the-wall parts under the beds, under his dresser and...), he has NEVER made the bed. And he makes the bed DIRTY, despite what he claims to Haven about not being able to jump on the bed because he's too dirty. Because after he is in bed, there is gravel and dirt and grass and pocket change and gum wrappers and headphones and all kinds of crap - it is fucking nasty as fuck after Max lays in bed. It makes me nauseous to have to clean up. and he NEVER EVER puts clean sheets on the bed, makes the bed, or does anything to clean the bed he sleeps in almost every night, watches porn in almost every night, and demands I not sleep with our son in. It's really fucking weird and disturbing after the HUGE fuss, the ABUSIVE shit he doles out on me almost every day now, right in front of Haven, and the irreperable damage that's doing to him, over some made-up, hypocrite shit where he won't even dream of sleeping on a clean bed sheet or pillowcase. It's fucking psychotic.

I think Max went through my things with a fine-toothed comb before he got rid of them because 1) he wanted to find a few specific things and maybe just anything that caught his fancy in general, and keep them for himself, and 2) he was convinced he would find something that belonged to him. He didn't find anything that belonged to him.

I dont know if I was ever right about anything good.

Anything and anybody who's had to depend on me was brutally severed from me. This was a surprise and a devastation to me every time, as my intentions had been pure and good - filled with ideals of hope for a better future, better this, better that, I'm going to make things better hooray! The future I saw was filled with love and security, much of it selfless. But I always let my dependents and myself down. The relationship ended without closure. It ended like a bad nightmare, not a little nightmare that's kinda scary. Like an end of the world one where you can't fight because you're too heavy and in slow motion and you seriously consider leaving your child behind in the acid rain that falls around you because of how heavy and sluggish and helpless to defend yourself, much less someone else, you are (P.s. you don't leave your child. But still, what does that say about you - the fact that you paused and considered doing so in a nightmare?)