Oh I had to chuckle at the scape goat comment.
It reminds me of why I decided to call a therapist.
We have a small 'hobby' farm. Without going into more detail, let us just say that one afternoon while H took one of his very long afternoon naps [COPD, PTSD, Depression...and so forth]...I took my little Jack Russell for a lengthy hike in the woods picking wild berries.
Dog and I had a marvelous time.
We returned triumphantly with nearly 1 1/2 quarts of wild black berries and walked into a Fury.
The little Red Bull [he's a Dexter which means very small] had escaped his pen while I was out and apparently H had been awakened by his hound dogs barking. He came out and tried to lasso and chase the little Red Bull around and around the yard. The dogs barked harder, H got madder, the little Red Bull trotted about happily!
When I appeared he started screaming obscenities at me. Telling me that I had a NO good dog [that really hurts!] and that HE had to do everything around the farm. [Oh gosh, I thought,...I guess I don't do most of the chores when I have the day off????].
Well it got into a rage, the rage built, he threw out hurtful, awful words. He didn't love me any more, he was my Sugar Daddy, I was taking advantage of him...and so forth.
I sort of stared at him like he had two heads, then mentally shut down all emotion. I walked over to the bull pen and opened it, while throwing some nice feed into the lot. Little Red Bull walked calmly into his lot and I shut the gate, walked into the house and called the counseling service I'd been scoping out.
I related the story to the therapist. He asked me, *Well, would it have been your fault if you'd been at work?*
H needed someone to take his anger and frustration out.
I was the Scape Goat to Irrational Thinking. This is my mantra.