Death by Food

So...

the man in the basement threatened to kill himself via obesity should I leave. 

It's no secret. 

He's been saying that for awhile. 

He's gained nearly 180 pounds since he lost his job at the city.  He was morbidly obese then. 

I believe him when he says he's going to kill himself with food. 
I've been trying to gain control over my life for the past fifteen years.  Every time I get away, something stupid happens that pulls me back in. 

If this doesn't put to rest the gossip about me being a powerful black magick witch, I don't know what would...if I could turn a man into a newt or a frog into a man....

There wouldn't be a frog living in my basement. 

Wish he'd find his princess and let her kiss him so we could both move on. 

Now, when I'm angry and he threatens me with food suicide, I don't know whether to laugh at him, bake a batch of brownies with hydrogenated margarine, or crush up little Prozac pills and stick them in the meatloaf. 

This time...I did the worst and most unethical thing I could do. 

I played shrink. 

One does not do that with their spouse....never....ever....ever....but...I couldn't understand where in the world the death by food idea spawned. 

I mean...

every suicidal person I've ever met has come from an environment where someone promoted suicide.

Myself....well...I grew up in a home headed by a Cherokee who believed that people should die with dignity should they become a burden on their families.  One year I became suicidal after being told (erroneously) that my father and mother killed themselves, my grandmother and beloved aunt died, and my step-father killed himself playing Russian Roulette with my baby sister.  This was within the span of eight months. 


I was raised on suicide ideation.  My high school sweetheart, sick of hearing my cry, ran off to the school shrink.  Upon meeting with the shrink I came to the idea to get suicide promoting, sick, disturbing individuals out of my life.

My point is that those type of threats are taught in early childhood.  They come from somewhere. 

People who kill themselves with alcoholism, tend to have an alcoholic in the family.   People who do illegal drugs learned it somewhere.  Addictions and psychiatric illness tend to run in families. 
I wanted to know where Mr. Frog's threat came from. 

It took several hours. 

I'll be as brief as I can. 

If one grows up in a family where diabetes is common, one learns quite quickly that food can kill. 

Granted, he does not have diabetes (yet) but knowing what I know about this family, there is a history of death by blood sugar.  That is how one of the other in-laws died, he didn't refill his prescription for insulin when the family tore his wife from him. 

Yes, this is common in his family.  They get married.  The in-law gets stalked and harassed.  The in-law is lied about, their money stolen, and their credit destroyed.  Then the couple gets divorced. 

Most marriages last less than three years.  The three marriages that lasted longer than fifteen years had one feature in common: the couple became estranged from the family after they began harassing the in-law.   The thing that happens, though, is when there is a death in the family the spouse gets sucked back into the fold and the marriage ends. 

One marriage ended after twenty years when the in-law committed suicide.
The second one hasn't ended but the in-law (after twelve years) decided to take a job as an over the road truck driver.  His companions are what he lovingly calls 'lot lizards'.  He doesn't get what he needs at home and was smart enough to find it elsewhere. 
I'm trying to leave the third marriage. 

My father-in-law has terminal cancer.  I don't think it'll be long before I'm sent packing now.

I should have known this would happen.  I mean, his cousin and I were close in high school.  She'd talk about how women should be spoiled, taken care of and only have intimacies for procreation.  She was Catholic.  I was a Mormon raised by a Pagan: sex is a gift from God that shouldn't be wasted.   I was taught we need to earn our keep in a relationship, we must give as good as we get. 

If you can't flirt with your spouse, if you can't have fun, it is time to move on.  If you can't earn your own money, it's time to go. 

I should have known better than to marry into it.  I have known this family since I was a child. 

I bought into the stories that the in-laws were the problem. 

My estranged husband's uncle lived three houses away from the house where I grew up.  His uncle divorced his wife due to gossip that she was caught cheating when his mother stopped in for an impromptu visit in the middle of the day. 

I was too young to ever question how this man's mother (Mike's grandma) was able to get into her son's house when his wife brought over a male friend.  How did she know?  She lived forty miles away!  Her grandson worked.  Why was she at their house in the middle of the day?

Stories like that abound where one relative witnessed something bizarre and just happened to have keys to the house. 

Stalking? 

I've had my share of stalking since I've met these people.  The first incident was in '92, when they'd call me when men visited me and somehow they knew I had company as they'd ask to talk to the poor guy.  Here is the deal; they lived 45 minutes away.  

In '97, they'd call me telling me that they drove by my house and were keeping an eye on me. 

The last incident was in '11.  They mentioned that they knew where I worked.  I was having lunch with my friend and one of them called me.  I ignored the phone.  When I left the restaurant, I was approached by someone I never met who called me El Diablo.  Later, I found out that this guy was hassling the other people in the office building.  I moved my office to another city. 

There are numerous other incidents; stalking on campus, relatives having keys to my houses, stalking at work....this appears to be a way of life for this family.  I wish I had seen this before but love and friendship can be blind. 


I've got to go.  He's waking up and walking up the stairs. 

Do you want to know what he likes to sing?

The moniker, Mr. Frog, actually fits.