My Mom's college yearbook

1948.

Independent, all-women’s institute for the humanities.

Just read her entry and am disappointed.

After a list of her stellar achievements, Mom concluded with “Looking forward to marriage and Applied Psychology.”

Considering her dismal choice of my father, I’d say ironically that both aspirations were realized in one fell swoop.

Some thoughts on how to proceed between now and Midterms

The present situation reminds me of growing up in my family during childhood.

My father was an authoritarian, malignant narcissist, although I didn't have a name or a syndrome to understand what was going on at the time.

How did my father control us? He never hit us. He didn't physically abuse us. He didn't withhold food by sending us to bed without supper. He bought whatever was considered necessities. He paid for our college tuitions. Etc. Etc. Etc.

He controlled us with a combination of fear, apprehension, and keeping us off balance. He was a master.

When he blew up, we all recoiled. It was understood, "Don't get Dad mad, because he'll take it out on the rest of us."

We also understood that one day, he'd really get angry, and it would very, very ugly.

His objective was to de-moralize us so that we would not challenge him. We punished ourselves. (Well, not me. I got into trouble by arguing back, pointing out faulty logic, etc.)

Fast forward to now and Trump. I have similar feelings that I had, almost PTSD.

My advice is to not allow him to make you fearful, depressed, apprehensive.

Instead, be proactive. Join people with similar objectives, like www.indivisible.org. https://indivisible.org/

Do something every day, even it's just posting on DU. Don't give up.

Are you a Sigma Female?

I was accepted into law school. I was eligible for a scholarship.

But my father dissuaded me, saying he'd pay for the three years of tuition.

But I was also working at my father's office and had given notice as I was going to school.

And a kerfuffle between 2-3 coworkers turned into an office battle. And I managed not to get involved.

But my father was an authoritarian who used black-and-white thinking for problem-solving. And he took the side of the coworker at issue (who wasn't doing her job). The problem was the idle coworker had an ally who coordinated and filed Medicare forms (which was the bulk of the medical office's profits).

What happened to make it scary? First, my father ordered me to join him at a restaurant for dinner. I knew from past experiences that this wasn't going to be good. And it wasn't.

My father was in a hellish mood from the get-go. Halfway through the meal, he "explained" that because of me, the ally of the idle coworker threatened to quit if her buddy was fired. And that would leave him without a vital employee to file those Medicare claims. And that would mean that he'd have to retire early. And that would mean he wouldn't have the means to pay for my tuition. And it was all my fault.

Now, remember that I kept myself out of office politics, but that was irrelevant. Dad was on a roll. He pulled a Trump maneuver where I was being threatened without a direct threat. What was being put on the proverbial table was that 1) no law school, possibly ever, and 2) no job/no pay for domicile, necessities, transportation, etc. and 3) possible bankruptcy.

And it was my father!! And he knew exactly what he was doing to me.

And yeah, part of me was terrified at the prospect. And there he was, across the table, ordering coffee.

But as scared as I was (I think the ambush aspect heightened my terror), I also did a quick analysis. First, if I really wanted to become an attorney, get used to this. It's part of the profession. My adversary being my father was irrelevant. Second, I could always find another job. Third, I could re-apply to law school and get a scholarship. Fourth, my father painted himself into a corner: he'd have to explain why he suddenly and arbitrarily decided not to pay for law school (if not also for retribution). Fifth, he could be bluffing, and the idle coworker and her ally weren't going anywhere.

How I resolved the situation at the restaurant: I leaned back in my chair, got comfortable, took a sip of wine, put it down, and calmly responded to my father, "Well, I guess that's entirely up to you." He wasn't prepared for that. He harumphed and sputtered out, "You're damned right." Dinner ended quite abruptly as there was nothing left to say.

How it ended: Three weeks later, my father told me to pick up my check for the first semester of law school. The idle coworker and her ally stayed at the office after my departure for a number of years. My father retired 2-3 years after I graduated from law school.

Yeah, I was scared shitless, but I kept my rational side of my mind working. And I learned a lesson: You don't have to be literally brave when you're scared. You just have to act like you're brave. Nobody can tell the difference.

Truth and Gospel.

In a microcosm, I understand this concept well.

Our father was a relentless authoritarian. While he never hit us, he kept us off balance with fear and unpredictability. The fear was real; it wasn't paranoia. The threats weren't explicit, but they were easily extrapolated.

At our nadir, I had quit my job to enter law school. I didn't apply for a scholarship b/c Dad assured me he would pay the tuition. But two weeks before school commenced, Dad got mad at me for something I didn't do. He took me out to dinner to tell me he wouldn't be paying the tuition. So, no job/salary and no law school. And he smirked at me. Smirked!

Long ago, I learned that fear was the enemy. Even if I were taken aback, never EVER show fear to your adversary. One step after another after another. That was courage without overt gestures.

BTW, my father backed down and paid for the law school. He never apologized but then again, I wasn't expecting one.

My point: You don't have to necessarily stand up to a bully. You simply don't give any ground. Sometimes that's enough.

I've lived this before.

As Sen Tim Scott (R-SC) explains, the MAGA GOP embraces a concept that political scientists know as the "Führerprinzip," under which all the thoughts of all members of the party are fully subordinated to a single man. Scott: "There's only one leader of the Republican party. That person is Trump. Time for the party to remain united and divide the Democrats. We have too much in common . . . and the American people need to see one unison agenda with one vision led by president Donald Trump."

This was the "platform" espoused by my father. (I'm in charge of The Family. The Family should be cohesive. The Family shouldn't be divided by malcontents. I know what's best for everyone. I'm always right and never wrong. The Family is stronger united.)

Trust me, you don't want to live like this.

Donald Trump and his mental disintegration

There are two major issues: Donald Trump and his proposed policies -- and Donald Trump and his mental deterioration in front of us. I wish to examine the latter. It comes from personal experience.

My father was weeks away from turning 92. A widower living on his own terms in his house. He eschewed my offers of assistance, even when I moved in with him.

In his past life, he was a commendable physician, a cardiologist. He kept his patients alive into their 90s. He could do the NY Times crossword puzzle in pen. Articulate. Read books constantly.

By the time he was in his 90's, there were definite changes in mental capacity.

First, he stopped paying his bills. There were a multitude of stacks on the dinette table. I offered to cut the checks and have him sign them. He refused. I asked what his plan was and he responded that his estate attorneys would pay them after his death. And they remained unpaid.

Next, he had to have a dog. Not take care of it, but just wanted a dog. He drove to a puppy mill, chose a puppy, and came home. He didn't walk it. He had a neighbor walk the dog, but the dog held it in and shit all over the house. His dog ruined a $40,000 Persian rug that my mother had treasured. I bent over to pick up dried shit and he actually yelled at me and told me to leave it where it was. Well, you get the idea. And he didn't feed the dog a recommended diet; she got whatever he didn't finish eating. And he left the dog in his car in the summer when the interior temperature was in the high 90's. Bystanders in parking lots called the police and he told them to mind their own business; his dog was fine.

Finally, his driving. He shouldn't have. He got into a multitude of fender-benders. The reason why he flew under the radar with the DMV not taking away his license was he paid off the other drivers in cash to avoid tickets and insurance. And fixed his car. His driving was atrocious. I personally watched him back out of our driveway and position himself the wrong way in the lane and stayed there for minutes. I was holding my breath. His driving was his undoing, literally. He rear-ended a van at a gas station. No seatbelt, no airbags. His chest hit the steering column. He refused medical attention and got three tickets. And kept it a secret for a week when he sustained a heart attack from an undiagnosed partial aortic tear from the accident. And he died. I had to do detective work to discover all this.

My point: my father was in no shape to live alone, have a dog, and/or drive -- and certainly not to run a country as complicated and powerful as ours.

Even if Trump promoted my views and positions, I wouldn't want someone who exhibits all the confusion and mental detachments that he does to run the country, period.

It's not because he's old. He just isn't competent.

I knew a "Trad Wife".

She was my law client, and this was about 15 years ago.

She was married (obviously) and had five children in quick succession, ages 3 to 9, three girls and two boys.

Child Protection removed her children and put them in foster care. And the agency was desperately trying to terminate parental rights in order to allow adoption by the foster family.

My job was to get the kids back. As if that were the easiest part.

I discovered that she was a victim of domestic violence, and her husband controlled her physically, mentally, psychologically, and emotionally. And Child Protection first ignored that fact and denied her services for assistance. Later CP used the DV as justification to terminate her rights because she let it happen.

Her husband was a throwback Catholic, meaning Scalia and Opus Dei would be too liberal for him. He kept my client confined to the home they were renting. She and the kids only left when they had to see a doctor. He refused to let them to school, even parochial school. He was the head of the house in every way. And she gladly went along with him with no complaints.

And there's more. Not only did the husband keep my client pregnant and lactating for a decade, but he also forced himself on her sexually, including anal sex (which is used by some men for the illusion of total submission). And he hit her.

The reason they came within the radar of Child Protection was one night he strangled her. She called the police, and they arrested him. And he convinced her to drop the charges. And then he convinced her to leave the state when the investigation of the kids and the family commenced. Child Protection caught up with them and arrested him until he told them where he hid the kids.

So, I was delivered a client who was near catatonic. She could barely talk to me and to the therapist. I knew we couldn't move forward without deprogramming her. We moved her to her mother's home in another state. When she and her husband went to court, it wasn't together. I kept them separated, even preventing him from following her to the restrooms.

We had a DV hearing, and she didn't want to go to testify because she was afraid of him. We coached her enough to be in the same room with him.

I became a social worker as well as legal counsel. I got her one of the best therapists on domestic violence. My client was receptive. She filed for divorce. She got a vocational certification. She did everything the caseworker for Child Protection demanded.

And the Court returned her kids. And she and the kids have nothing to do with him since that time.

BTW, my client "won" partially because all representation was free/pro bono and I was "between jobs" at the time and could afford to dedicate all the time needed.

My father dedicated much of his life to control me. If he couldn't control me,

then he was dedicated to destroying me.

Yet, there he was at age 91. My mother/his wife had died 11 years prior. My sister and brother were living far away from him. I was maybe 20 minutes away, happily in my own apartment with my own life.

And he was failing physically and mentally. And just as mean.

I considered letting him reap his karma, dying alone in his home.

But I then considered trying to assist him. Not because he was my father, but because he was my mother's widower. She wasn't there and somebody had to do it.

I moved into my old bedroom. I went to work and returned to his home. This went on for a number of months.

He died because he caused a rear-end collision, didn't tell me or my siblings. And he had a partially dissected aorta, which caused his heart attack.

I didn't cry at the hospital. I didn't cry at his memorial. I didn't cry returning to my childhood home.

All I know is that I did the right thing for the right reason.

In 1975, my sister just turned 16 and discovered she was pregnant

with her 20 yo boyfriend. Never thought to use birth control.

I was leaving for college and she confided in me.

And I helped her get a LEGAL abortion.

Forget the boyfriend. Minimum wage/HS degree/no money/no brains. It was all on me.

There were several considerations in my decision. First, she was too young to be a mother emotionally and psychologically. She wasn't even mature enough to engage in sex. Next, our father would have been off-the-leash with irrational anger if he knew about the pregnancy. Dad was more than a strict parent. He was the guard to the jail. I had been the Family Scapegoat who allegedly and regularly brought woe to the Family and my sister was The Golden Child. This crisis would have switched our statuses in the family. And part of me would have welcomed it. But I bailed my sister out. Finally, I thought of the proposition if the baby had been carried to term. As previously mentioned, my sister would have failed as a mother. Our mother was more than ambivalent about raising us and I'm certain she wouldn't have assumed responsibility for my sister's baby. Or the baby would have been quietly born and adopted. No good options. So, I gave more than $200 I had saved up over years to my sister. And she had a safe abortion.

Epilogue: My sister continued to go through a multitude of boyfriends, this time with BC. She married and discovered she couldn't conceive. My niece/nephew would be 49 next year. And having time to ruminate, yes, I'd do it again.