Episode 73 – Home Sweet What Now?

Filed under: Emotional Landmines, Turf Wars, and Other Faurel Hill Delights…

You know that feeling when you’ve had a long day, you finally get into your car, and you should be thinking about what’s for dinner – but instead, you’re bracing for psychological warfare? Yeah. That.

Most people drive home from work thinking about leftovers or Netflix. I drive home wondering if Bully’s been through my post, sat in my chair, or licked the butter just to let me know he could. Not because he leaves an obvious trail – oh no, subtlety is his art form. The lights just slightly wrong. The energy just off. The unmistakable scent of ‘I’ve been here, and you can’t prove it.’

It’s like living in a haunted house, except the ghost is still alive, and possibly rooting through your receipts.

Is this abuse? Let’s put it this way: if someone made you jump every time you entered your own kitchen, you wouldn’t call that a healthy vibe. This isn’t paranoia – this is pattern recognition. A nervous system that’s had to become fluent in reading micro-signs of intrusion. My body knows before my brain catches up: I don’t feel safe in my own home. And that’s a kind of abuse people don’t talk about enough – the kind where someone doesn’t need to scream at you or steal from you outright to make you feel invaded.

The Routine Now Goes:

Turn into the drive. Sit in the car for a moment. Breathe. Steel yourself.

Unlock the door like you’re in a hostage negotiation. Walk in, scan. Sniff. Listen.

Wonder, did I leave that curtain open? (Repeat with: drawer, window, kettle, bad vibe.)

Tell yourself you’re overreacting. Then remind yourself: you’ve been gaslit enough to light half of Faurel Hill.

The Message Beneath It All:

It’s not just about the butter, the blinds, or the door left ajar. It’s about control. Bully doesn’t have to do anything big. All he has to do is keep me guessing. That way, I’m never quite relaxed. Never quite sure. Never quite able to fully exhale.That’s not just annoying. That’s psychological abuse, disguised as ‘maybe you’re imagining things.’ (Hint: you’re not.)

Anyway. That’s the update from the haunted house formerly known as my sanctuary. If you’re living with your own version of a lurking Bully – I see you. And no, you’re not ‘just sensitive.’ You’re tuned in to survival. And there’s nothing paranoid about that.

Message from Granny Frass from beyond the veil:

‘A man who plays tricks like that isn’t clever – he’s lonely and bitter. Leave a trap for him, love. Like a mousetrap, but filled with lavender and moral superiority.’