Back to the original Story
As it says above... I ended up being unable to work with the person who was "editing' my story, as what started out as editing became a take over and he began writing the book he thought should be written; I realised on Sunday when he spent the day at the computer reading over the whole of what we had worked upon, from about 7am till midnight most days for almost ten days. Each day I felt my energy getting less and less and he seemed to gain energy. On that Sunday I decided I didn't like what i was seeing on the screen so I printed the whole thing out. It had become a dog's breakfast of a story and the continuity was shit. The words I used, and which I seemed to have to argue over, again and again, even words such as "which" which he always replaced with "that" which made the work sound choppy...many of my softer words like precious became "hard' words as you might use in a text book. Its hard to explain here but I was reading someone elses version of my story.
This takeover seemed to seem reasonable in the beginning because I thought here is someone who knows what they are doing and I don't. So I gave way and many of the things I gave way on needed to go but just as many were fine.
After I printed it out and realised what a mess it had become, with whole paragraphs all in the wrong order, so much so that when i get back from my daughter's place I know it will take me days to untangle.
The shit hit the fan on Sunday night when as he was reading down through the day when Don was forced to sit up in the wheelchair for three hours although suffering, he turned to me and barked - and I mean barked - he's a big person - "Three hours! he sat up for three hours! I would have got him back to bed." This went on for about fifteen minutes with his barking at me what he would do and how he would do it, and all I could hear was "I, I, I". The meaning was clear as to why did I not do what he thought could be done although he tried to turn this around the next day. There was no other reason for such a verbal assault and tirade.
By the end I felt like I had been attacked which I was. I remember my eldest sister saying when her husband used to play mind games on her and bark about, that she would go very quiet and still - and feel herself shrinking so as to appear smaller. I felt like that. I have encountered many people in my life my being so very old, but never someone who could bully so effectively overriding everything he would not allow as possibility but there not being anything you could get a handle on - so it was hard to grab hold of something.
I am out of town and its very quiet here. That night I understood how people kill. I sat there copping this "wah wah wah I I I" and my heart felt black. I do not hold guilt about any aspect of my care of Don. I did my best, and I know Don knew/knows that. I am now at peace with what happened re how I acted.
So I finally stood up slowly and hand out in a stop, said quietly," I can't do this" (meaning his working on the story). I turned and went into my room and shut the door. I had been feeling as if my house had become not mine. When I stopped shaking and looked in the mirror I was shocked to see how large the pupils of my eyes were. People talk about "red rage", which I experienced many years ago - where your sight seems to have a red haze, but this was "black rage'.
I felt afraid/ threatened/ not physically but emotionally. I felt like I was in a state of shock that night. Something was very very wrong with him,
It was a strange night. I could hear him making himself a cup of tea and aware he was typing and finally I went to sleep. I got up early and ate the hugest plate of wheetbix because I felt shaky and empty. So when he came out later, I just told him much of the above, that my story no longer felt like mine etc and you know what his arrogant response to what he called my "feedback" how I hate when people talk like this - he said "Well I hit the right buttons" as if it was all a big game and somehow clever.
Why would someone want to do that to me or anyone? I don't understand that sort of cruelty. it was very cruel to imply that although I hadn't acted to ease Don's suffering "for three hours" he would have gone out to the street and got someone to help him get Don back to bed.
Then you realise that even someone who believes he sees and knows all is shockingly ignorant, practically, and emotionally.
The clue to the behaviour is, that i did not know what a strong background in Scientology he had. He claimed to no longer be a member, but if he mentioned once, he mentioned dozens of times how well Scientology trains your mind etc etc...shame about the heart I guess. He was only needing a couple of hours sleep a night and I was waking exhausted. I actually feel like he was draining my energy on some level
Lucky that I am going to see the girls on Thursday because physically I feel like I am back in the early days. My chest is so sore and I feel like I can't breathe.
In my whole life apart from the time before Don's death, i have never felt so out of control of my thoughts and actions and house, my story, everything. Has anyone else come across these people.
His attitude improved and he booked his train. I believe his intention was to help but his ego overrode that and he took control. Even things like my "australianisms' I was told to take out because others might not understand - the book will have most relevance to Australians and I don't think most of you have much trouble understanding my terminology.
Maybe its best to pay someone to do this stuff in a payment for hours deal rather than accept favours from aquaintances where you feel in their debt, which lessens your ability to pull them out when needed. So I guess I have learnt something at least.
Any hoo - its quiet here now. I am constantly seeing my old doggie in my mind's eye, but so pleased he is not suffering as he was.
Sorry for the rant...