Friday, September 26, 2014

The Road of Awareness

I'm starting to realize that my postings are very raw, but they are real too and a lot of energy goes into them, and it must be crazy to the normal people out there.  That's ok, I can't imagine what its like to live in their skin either, so we are equals in that way.  What can I say except that I am someone who has had her identity stolen by her engulfing narcissistic mother.  You can't live through that and be expected to be normal.  Let all the world know that.  

Before my awakening I was starting to think that maybe I had been sexually molested as a child. That's what a therapist revealed to  me once, but I really had no recollection of that.  I was really hoping that wasn't the case but I was acting like it as I'm so reserved and like to keep to myself.  And pride would not let me believe that either.  Even though something like that is never the victims fault, I hear so much of them blaming themselves for it.  And that is unfortunate, however, I had an experience that was really very similar, I think.  I was emotionally molested, it is called emotional incest, when a parent takes everything that belongs to you on an emotional level.

When I was dating my current husband, I was told to end it with him because mother needed my care all the time and wasn't allowed to go anywhere else even though I am in my forties.  What a cruel behavior, she could have gotten the same help anywhere else, but I was EXPECTED to stop living for her.  Yes, that was the case.  To give up fishing on the lake to go help mother while she tormented me constantly to the point where I was on so many drugs that I couldn't function anyway.  That I would be blamed for too.  But that is okay with all the freaks and flying monkeys.  Mother was the important one here, not me.

This is a mother who would not let me leave her sight unless she has another source of supply on the go and she had me available at any time.  In that case, I had to get out of the way.  A mother who will have a fit when I got hurt badly and she has to go to the hospital.  I cut myself badly once when I was a preteen, and I'm telling you if we didn't have guests at the time, I don't know what would have happened.  It was our guests who made sure I got medical help.

I do things that are not nice either.  My last posting, I really was not being nice to my husband by calling him a dumbass, and its really not like me.  I'm not going to edit that, just I am aware now of how emotional this stuff is.  I've never really faced any of this stuff till now so its going to be crazy. And I'll continue to be as real and raw as I have been. As far as calling him a dumbass is concerned, I had no need to to that in my posting, as he is not a dumbass, just how I felt at the time.  My emotions are like the waves of the sea, what I say today might not be the same I will say tomorrow.  How about trustworthiness?  Am I trustworthy?  Well, I think people trust those who are most like them and that's all.  I will hold myself accountable for the things I say and apologize for them later if need be. Its called growth.

My husband is a smart fellow.  I don't know what I'd do without him.  His ex was very controlling to the point where he was not allowed to form an opinion or make a mistake. Blame was the name of the game, and to this day its still hard for me to help him understand that I don't do that.  I certainly have been on the receiving end of that game before and it doesn't feel really good.  I even let him make every mistake under the sun until he gets it right, without telling him what to do.  He is starting to feel safe with me.  With vulnerability and authenticity I help him understand that I let him lead, and I in no way try to control him.  He knows that I value his strength, his temper, and everything about him. I would not be happy controlling someone, even if I could.  I also feel safe with him.  Always have, I just get so nervous and scared that I don't know what I"m doing sometimes.  I'm not in a safe place in my life right now.  My mother has stolen everything from me, and I can't get it back.  I'm trying to learn some things and teach some things, and the road is never easy.

I value my emotions, because I can feel these creeps, not logic them out.  They don't make logical sense.  So for me to think, here a narc, there a narc, is damn near impossible.  I would be jumping off a cliff before I could ever figure it out.  If it feels wrong, then it is wrong, and that is emotions, but I must beware because my emotions are not what I need them to be right now.  That's why I want to feel all of them no matter what.  See what they are, and let my mind and body heal itself.  I just want to say that we must be aware of what is going on in our emotions, that is the realm of the malignant narcissist.  I might be wrong here, they might work through the mind, or both.  Oh well, time to feel first, it is a place to start.

On my visit to my oldest daughter's I learned some things that I feel is good to share with you.  Well, we got to talking and I brought up this stuff I'm learning and I'm very excited to talk about.  First of all, yes she knows I'm an ACON this is not something I can protect her from.  For a long time she was not talking to me because she felt I was not there as a parent.  But persistence on my part paid off.  However, to get there I needed to give her full disclosure, and she thought of my FOO and a look of understanding came over her.  She gets it now.  Years of counselling, and I still didn't seem to do or say anything that seemed to fit.  I appeared selfish, self-centered, in my own world.  Dopey, lacking energy, yes you get it.  Upon discovery that I'm an ACON, everything now fits regarding my behavior.

Once I told her the truth about mother, my daughter is able to be at peace with me.  These truths my daughter already knew as I'll say again in a bit, but even she could not grasp how much that has affected me.

She has even said to me that her upbringing was much better than mine and to me that is amazing, love that girl so much.  She has a big heart, and as such I was worried that she may be a target to predators, so I really wanted her to be aware of what was out there.  But it was me who was in for the lesson.

She told me bad stuff used to happen all around me and it was like I never paid attention to it.  We talked about my MN friend, let's call her Bossy. 

"Well, Bossy had a way about her and you didn't even notice,"  my daughter said.  "I think I told you she mistreated her daughter who was already suffering from schizophrenia and obesity, and Bossy made a public spectacle of her by announcing loudly in front of a crowd that her daughter was not allowed cake."  It was her daughter's birthday party but she was not allowed to have cake and this was announced loudly into the crowd.  And I'm sorry to say I still liked Bossy because I didn't notice that, and continued our friendship.  "Bossy, also had a weird smile when she said that, and this sound came out of her mouth, like a laugh," my daughter continued.  It was amazing she was talking of narcissistic supply here but she doesn't even know what that is.

My emotions got really tight and I didn't know what to say.  It felt horrible to hear that.  I was friends with Bossy for 20 years and thought the world of her.  My daughter is 27 but at the time of the birthday party, she was only about 10 and thought Bossy was lower than dirt.  

After awhile, our conversation tamed right down.  I always feel like I'm at a loss talking to my daughter.  I wanted to talk about the cat that was declawed who lives in a world of mean cats.  Even though she knows of my upbringing she can't understand everything.  I felt bad and depressed.  

"You don't see what is in front of you, and sorry to say this Mom, but that is why I've always had a problem with you.  You ignore things, and its like you don't care about anything."  Her openness with me is charming, ain't it.  

I felt I needed to defend myself at this moment.  "You need to understand some things about me, first of all, you remember your Grandmother?" 

"Oh yeah, I know Grandma is a real bitch.  I know she was horrible to you, I saw that too."  My mouth just flew right open.  I felt like an idiot at this point.

It was just like the little girl taunting me on the stairs in my posting of Brainwashed into Addiction Part 2.  I was so stuck.  I couldn't maintain a regular conversation, that I was the older one here, with my own daughter.  

Now relationships don't come easy.  And maintaining personal boundaries are so hard.  To have personal boundaries with your own adult child is impossible.  I felt she was slamming me down and I couldn't respond or deal with it anymore.  Again, my pride took over.  Why the hell is this kid doing this?  She had no idea what hell I had to go through growing up.  

"Look Mom, I know you weren't allowed to stand up for yourself.  I sort of had that with our stepfather (my second husband).  The only saving grace in him was that he slept most of the time.  And thank God he did, or else we would be the same too."  

"Your stepfather was a malignant narcissist?"  I asked.

"What is a malignant narcissist?" She asked.

Down the rabbit hole I went.  But it didn't take her long to dominate the conversation.  I was at a loss again, but I still wanted her respect. so I said,  "Listen, I know you don't want to hear this but please try to understand what I'm saying.  We can't trust some people because they are like that, they are really hiding a secret agenda, and that is what we have to be careful of."

Here is what she told me, "I try to give people the benefit of the doubt, but if they screw me over, that's it."

"How do you know when they screw you over?"  I asked.

"Cause I will know it, and Bossy would have been dumped long ago if I was you.  We had a lot of strange people in our lives, almost all of them were strange.  And they just walked all over you."

Giving people the benefit of the doubt is not something I am learning right now.  I've read enough blogs to realize how most feel about that.  Actually I tend to think there is more of a guarded approach in getting to know people.  I explained that in great detail to my daughter, who sat and listened.

"No, you can't trust people right off the bat, but you can't just think they will all hurt you either."  She said.  I was very confused.  She did explain further, but this was like extreme calculus for someone who doesn't know derivatives and doesn't know how to add or subtract either.  So where is the boundary?  I was overwhelmed.

We just looked at eachother.  I had nothing to teach her.  Her claws were intact and she had more knowledge of this than I did.  She was safe.  We talked lots that day so I know she is in a place I could never be, and I'm happy to know she is safe.  She has discernment, and this I will value in her. She knows my upbringing and she does find it horrifying and we understand eachother.

All of the people she calls friends are there for her and are real people.  None of them give me the creeps, and she doesn't ever try to crawl or seek approval of anyone.  She is accepted or she is not, and its all the same to her, and she cold shoulders those who are in any way close to being a narcissist, I can tell.

I wish I had it so easy, just by my feeling like it I can approve of myself and it doesn't matter if no one else does.  Is it that ACON's have to be so careful as we will seek approval in anyone in order to be accepted, that is why we have to be so careful?  We can't take chances like the others?  That is something mother needs to be thanked for again.  Another pile of manure on her head!

It's not all bad news.  I think awakened ACON's have a gift of knowing a predator before the normal people do.  I'll give you an example.  I was out doing my volunteer work some time ago.  I saw one of the volunteers get angry with something over what really was a difference of opinion.  The following week the angry woman could not tolerate the other lady and in fact threw a whole pile of keys at her when was asked for the keys.  Now this was a huge ring of keys, not tossed but thrown at another lady which seemed like the keys were coming straight at her face.  Not so bad?  Well the lady she threw the keys at was elderly.

I told my daughter about this event.  My daughter said, "Maybe they are not getting along, and you don't know all the story."  True, this could be true, however, I learned something else.  No one seems to really feel ok around this person and she tends to take over things, that is being controlling.  Last night, while volunteering, I was cleaning up and she wanted the rest of the vegetables.  I was going to take some too, but she told me she wanted them all.  You know, I'm over it.  I didn't tell my daughter this part, so I don't know what she would think.  But I have enough evidence, I even did with the key throwing, that was an early warning sign, I think.

Maybe my daughter would have thought all that stuff was circumstantial, or not, seeing as I'm explaining it and if she saw the event unfold herself, maybe she would have thought differently. Either way she doesn't have to spend a lot of time figuring it out, she has it figured out.  I have to operate in conscious mode, my daughter has it down automatically. I cannot ever let N's mop the floor with me again, so I have to keep aware of the fact that I am a target for predators, my daughter is not.

I suppose what I'm really saying here is that maybe we have become stronger in looking for these beasts and a whole lot more clever because we have to, we are targets.  The normal people can afford to stay loose (must be nice), I'm not afforded such a luxury.  Thanks to mother again, another pile of manure on your head.

My daughter tells me to just believe I'm not a target anymore and all will be well.  Mmmm, maybe I'll try that.  I'm just kidding, calculus is much easier.  Ok, back to the real world here.  I'm not ever going to let these piles of poop ever get their claws into me again.  I've had it with malignant narcissists, I hope the one I volunteer with will come to terms with the fact that I may be a target but I'll rip her apart if she even tries to aim at me.

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

I Want My Boundaries

Lately, it has come to my attention that I'm really crazy about boundaries.  In fact, I love them.
But in intimate relationships what the heck do I do about boundaries?  I want to be safe and feel like I'm not hurting someone either, its so strange.  When I was growing up it felt weird to be in the family I was in,  Always getting hurt, and there were not many ways to protect myself, and boundaries was always an issue for me.

But what about intimacy in relationships?  I'm not talking about sexual, although that is important to, I'm talking about exposure and openness and giving that other person all you are.  I have NEVER done that, and my kids teach me how they are in relationships and its strange.  My kids aren't having issues with boundaries and they live in the world of give and take well, but I didn't teach them that, I certainly wouldn't have known how.  So is it something that we are born with?  To give and not feel like you are losing yourself?  Where is that boundary?

I had a wonderful day in town with my children yesterday, and everything seems to be going well for them.  I feel they need more still.  I was in this lovely new truck, that didn't belong to me.  It belongs to my husband, who stayed at home and I was out visiting.  And spending the last of my money that I had saved up, because it will be all gone soon anyway, might as well enjoy it.  Except for the truck, I was enjoying the last of my independence.

I was checking my bank balance online the night before and my husband was sitting in the livingroom but I didn't think he was privy to what I was doing.  Sigh, very long story short, it ended with him saying I need to give up.  The tears started coming and I didn't want to talk to him, I needed him to leave the room and he wouldn't.  Something must have snapped in me because I got to the point of complete exposure. Complete vulnerability.  From my experience this means I'll get hurt now, so I was prepared for the worst.  The worst never came, the entire time I felt exposed, unsafe and it felt horrible.

He said he will be taking care of me from now on, and he doesn't mind that.  So I will be entirely dependent on him and I don't like it.  I never wanted his things, I wanted my own things, and I never wanted him to pay my way in this world.  This sucks, especially with his buddy (2 postings ago) breathing down my neck, acting like I'm a gold digger.

That's just great.  A malignant narcissist raised me and destroyed me right at my formative years, now a malignant narcissist is twisting the knife.  I hate these useless bags of garbage.  I even had an MN friend once, and she decided to be a stay at home wife, she is no gold digger I bet. But, she chooses to stay at home and what good is that to a narc anyway?  She is just a parasite, she can't stay at home and make pies and clean the house.  She needs to be sucking supply somewhere.  Oh, well.

"I'll find someone who wants a stay at home wife," I told him, "For sure I know you don't want that but lots of men do."  I told him that as a way of preserving my dignity.  That he can't conquer, I'll still have the upper hand this way.  That there is an escape for him, and I'm not cornering him and this was best.   Then my husband started talking about next summer and we will be taking a trip to the east coast and spend that time eating lobster.

I was emotional and distraught and he wasn't even paying attention to me.  I know he can be a dumbass, but I needed him to understand what I was saying.  Pointing out that I can't be what I want to be, so I was not going to be vulnerable at this point, I wanted back the control.  Yes, it got very bad.

"Get over it now, stop living in dreamland!"   He shouted at me.  He was loud and domineering, my brain was exploding and I felt the worst I've ever felt, I think.  

I still wanted the control.  "I'm going to be writing my mother's obituary, I need to get myself in the position to do that, I'll figure it out."

Things got quiet at this point.  He had no idea what I was talking about, but I read some obituaries in RumblestirpQ's blog some have written.  Yes, my mind went straight for that.  It clung to that thought for dear life.  It made me feel safe again.  This man in front of me, had no idea what I was talking about, and I found a safe haven in the thought of writing mother's obituary.  But to him I must have sounded crazy.

He was no way getting nearer  to me.  No way.  He has already guessed that I can't hold down a job, I know that.  But I have all this pride stored up inside me and I didn't want to give that up.  We stared eachother down, and it was like a scene in an old western movie.  He looked kind of pitiful, and I knew this was hard for him.  But my feeling bad for him didn't override my pride which I was determined to maintain.

My husband's former relationship ended very coldly.  In fact, she still emails him now and then looking for an item she forgot behind and asks for it.  He never emails back, I know this because he shows me his emails.  He is rather a cold guy, but even he is more capable of intimacy than I am.  He was only 2 months separated when we met.  I got the feeling she still wanted him back, that the separation was only meant to be temporary.  That is until I came along.  I made the separation permanent.  I hated that.  I even hated her for making me feel like a homewrecker.  I hated him for being so dependable.  I wished he would just go be with her and leave me alone.  I was stuck.  Do you know what this feels like?  Where you can't survive on your own and have to be so helpless. Even my MN friend, whom I was still pals with at the time said I was interfering.  I wasn't awakened and everything in my life was so screwed up.  I wasn't taking something that wasn't mine, just grabbing a life preserver.  

How was I interfering?  I didn't even know him when they separated.  I met him after that.  He forgot about her quickly, because I needed him more than she did.

At that time I was still in contact with my mother and things were going very badly for me.  She was tightening the noose and I was terrified of leaving the apartment.  I think I was agoraphobic by then. I was in counselling because the walls were closing in on me.  The psychiatrist upped the dosage on my medications steadily, and I was taking care of mother who was aging.  Mother was emotionally abusive to me.  In fact, I ran to his place for a break from mother, so he invited her here for a weekend.  It didn't take long.  He went head to head with  my engulfing narcissistic mother.  Big fight, then mother went NC with me if I was to stay involved with that "fool".

I fell into his life permanently backwards on my butt.  We were only dating and I clung to him.  The pills were so hard in me, my tolerance level was non-existent.  I slept all day and night.  Even though mother was gone, I still couldn't function.  Mother's abuse had taken their toll.    

I've been vulnerable since we met, but no damn way was I going to show it.  But he must have known.  That is why he stayed and is still staying with me because I am vulnerable.  He never went back to his 20 year marriage after that.  As the words of Renee Wade (my favorite relationship site) says - a man will never leave an authentically vulnerable woman.  Never.  My husband's ex basically is powerless against it.  She can't come close to my vulnerability.  And ladies, remember this, this is true.  Boundaries are great, but vulnerability is what men crave the most in women.  There is a reason for it.  It goes back to the caveman days, but that is too long of an explanation.

Ok, I didn't try to be vulnerable, just fell into it haphazardly from a lifetime of abuse.  Maybe I should be on my own in a low rent apartment somewhere, with no resources.  That was mother's goal for my life.  I'm terrified of everything.  If you met me in real life you would see that.  I went to town this morning to buy milk.  And you want to know the things I'm scared of?  I was scared I couldn't find the money, scared the car wouldn't start.  Scared I'd drop the change all over.  Scared of falling and tripping etc. etc..

But if I could have it all my way, I would be in a jungle somewhere, looking for the cure for cancer, or some extremely established career.  I would not be a man's stay at home wife.  I would have it all in spades.  I don't want to be helpless, I didn't want to spoil someone's relationship by hijacking a guy with vulnerability, I hate it.  In fact, I have high moral standards, I am a Christian, I attend church, and I wrecked a marriage.  There you go, complete exposure, it feels like I'm a Christian fraud. I hardly ever get to make my own choices.  But God is still with me, in fact His presence in my life right now is even more so.  But fear does not allow me freedom to choose, God understands me.  Not too many knows how much fear is disabling.

But this relationship site I take part of says vulnerability gets all the emotional commitment from men.  I have proven it.   I want to email that site and tell them everything that happened, but I don't have the guts, they are not ACON's so its crazy to normal people.  Their idea of vulnerability is unable to open a jar, or need him for something simple.  Not this crazy.  But I did tell her that her teachings were written for my husband exclusively, and she thought it was funny.  She can never know how well her programs work.

How can he accept the fact that he is with an ACON?  I can't work for very long, I loose my employment because I'm always scared and paranoid.  I still am stuck.  I'm not talking about all ACON's here, just me.  He is not scared of anything really.  Big tough guy, he can do anything.  He is a leader and he sticks to his word, and it seems like nothing goes wrong for him.  And I hate him for it.  We have only been together for 4 years, and I resent him, I love him, oh yeah, this does suck. How does anyone be like that?  Oh, he is not an ACON that is why.  I will never know what it is like to live in his body and wake up in the morning like that.  I would have given the rest of my money to have one day of that.

The night I was looking at the computer at the last of my money,  Somehow, I was then standing in the dining room, I was on one side and he was on the other.  He had quite a few beers that night, and was having a good time,  He gets a little tipsy that way, and gets silly, but he really sobered up, and I was the one who was wacky, but I didn't drink.

Suddenly it felt like I was exposed.  He really sobered up and I'm trying to hide and this feeling sucked, still does just remembering it.  It just was a crazy night.  The panic overcame me, I was weak and I never wanted to be weak.  Can you imagine what that feels like?  I abhor the idea of being dependent on someone.  That is ok when you choose that, and I'm not trying to be a feminist here, never was, just wanted my independence because I love boundaries.  I don't feel safe right now.

He is not really a nice guy.  Well he is, but  he's enough of an asshole that anymore would make it impossible to be with him.   He wouldn't mind me saying that, and he would agree.  You know how a lot of guys say they are tired of being the nice guy?  Well, this guy wants to be the nice guy and he tries really hard to.  To be with him on my terms would be great.  But to be dependent on him is scary.  I'll never know what it's like to be my own person the way I want.  I can never have that.  Mother has stolen everything.

I don't know if I can explain this feeling I have of losing my boundaries.  It feels like what I had growing up, I can't define the difference.  Sure, I want him to love me but on my terms.  I have yet to figure that one out.

ATTENTION:  I exposed a lot of truths about myself here.  Now, I'm not proud of these truths, but what's the point of having a blog if I can't just let it go. 

Thursday, September 18, 2014

Upside Down World

When I was still in contact with mother we used to go places and do things.  Whenever she was with me I felt out of sorts.  I could be sitting there talking to someone, Mother would pipe up with some nasty comment about me, to me, clearly to try to embarrass me publicly.  I don't think I need to tell you what she would say, as I don't want to try to remember either.  The emotion is too strong, still stings.

A few weeks ago I was out volunteering, sitting with a group of ladies, and all I can hear in my head is that I'm lousy and everyone is going to know it.  That simple.  

I asked mother once why she would do that.  Her response was, "Well, you think yourself so smart, so high class.  It's good to put you in your place."

One time while in contact with mother and she was with me, I was putting on nice shoes and I was struggling with the strap.  Not really struggling but attempting to do the buckle and I didn't get it on the first attempt.  I heard this witchy laugh that would curdle milk.  I turned and looked at mother and she laughed louder.  Then she turned her head and walked away.  I wore running shoes that day instead.

I was feeling out of sorts this past Sunday trying to get myself to go to church.  I didn't go.  I was having a hard time with shoes.  I go to a lovely church where everyone is dressed up and I like to as well.  Sometimes though, I need to put on running shoes.  I really have a need to put on simple running shoes with jeans and a tshirt.  Mother would like that.  Not high class, so I am in my place. 

It's funny how I talk to a lot of people about this and they say it is obvious signs of bipolar disorder. She's good, she's bad, so it kind of makes sense.  I don't have any knowledge of bipolar disorder (not really) but I did know a few people with this condition.  Once they are on the right cocktail of drugs they are better.  And, I can't figure this thing out without that one playing on my mind.  But comparing MN behaviour to bipolar disorder seems like such a reach.  One thing I do know about bipolar disorder though, is that they are OBVIOUS.  They will do horrible things sure, but they will do them right in front of you and they don't know better.  Such is not the case with my MN mother.  

For a brief moment I allowed myself to think, "Why is she here, when is she leaving to go home."  I think I had it with her that day.  Was there ever a time she was good to me?  Oh, I felt it.  I felt that she was good to me at one time.  She would come over and help me organize and clean.  Things I just tend to not do.  At that time the laundry would be washed and stay in a basket, for a week even. Mother would come over and fold it and put it all away.  

Or when we were kids and we ran out of milk and someone asked for milk.  I saw this painful look on her face, she was hurt because she couldn't give us any milk.  Don't these thoughts drive you nuts? ACON's mothers never loved us, but I tend to waffle over the whole thing, like we need to dig right in to find evidence that she really cared.  She did a lot of sacrificing so we would everything we needed.  It seemed like it.  It seemed like it?  

I want to believe she cared.  I'm not heartless, of course my mind would be scrambling for anything to grab a hold of.  That thing that makes us all feel safe.  Mother was kind, and loving.  Of course, I can see some evidence of that.  But can I really?

The mind will believe what it wants to, that we are safe, even though we don't feel safe.  Although she was the engulfing narcissistic mother she never made me feel safe.  

This is the song she used to sing to me:

I can't listen to it to see if it works.  I assume its the right song.  I had picked it out months before to leave a nasty message on Youtube.  I was so angry back then, I listened to it then left a message on there saying this was the song my mother used for narcissistic supply.  That one or another version, I can't remember.

I don't remember how old I was but I wasn't school age yet.  I was younger than four years old.  But clear as day I can remember this song, turn around when you are two, turn around when you are four, turn around when you are a young woman walking out of my door. I ran screaming after mom, "Don't no, I would never leave you."  All I would see was her back.  She sang this song over and over then turned her back then walk away then I would scream no I won't leave you.  She would go into another room and then I had a hard time finding her.

Sigh, I can still feel those emotions. It was horrible, and I couldn't stand it.  I kept thinking I couldn't get any older, and what if mom was to die?  Mom can never die, she has to live forever, I can't imagine her ever dying.  I don't know what got me to thinking of mother dying.  But it sure felt so real to me then.

This is what my engulfing narcissistic mother did.  I was in agony and it made her feel good.  To see her young child in torment.  It was a game, and although I was feeling horrible, it took care of her addiction, the need for supply.

But she also would hit me.  She was very cross.  Those were extremely violent times and it felt like it would never stop. Out of the blue it would happen, some misdemeanor that the day before was ok, but not this day. This is exactly what she looked like during those times:

My Mommy

Well, except she didn't have blonde hair, she was a brunette.  This picture might give away my mother's identity though, shhh, keep it a secret for me please.  Yes, I am serious.  This is exactly what she looks like.  I am sure mother posed for the drawing of Butthead.

I guess I do have a sense of humor tonight.  Guess I gotta, bringing this stuff up actually feels very horrible.  I still get stuck thinking mother was disadvantaged so she had to be tough.  We four kids must have been a handful, of course she got upset.

Mother did good things, I've mentioned some.  How about we do a little critical thinking?  I have devised this plan to figure it all out.  It is very scientific, I have gotten a team of psychologists together and this is the best it can ever get to decide how to figure out the mess of a malignant narcissistic mother.

First print this out:

Good Things Mother Did
Bad Things Mother Did

There should be another column, BAD THINGS THAT HAPPENED THAT DIDN'T LOOK LIKE MOTHER DID THEM.   Put that on a separate piece of paper you might need a lot of room for it and a lot of paper.

Now cross match the good and the bad things that mother did.  See which ones go together.  Can't do it?  Here, I'll give you an example:

Mother did my laundry - good, match that one with Mother said other girls looked pretty compared to me at my Grade 8 ceremony - bad

Yep, you got it.  Mother only did my laundry so I would go someplace for her to make fun of me.  It works.  It goes together.  How?  Well, she wouldn't dare let me go out in public without clean clothes so she could look all sacrificing while making her daughter feel like a complete ugly mess.  It wasn't mother's fault I look so bad.  You keep matching them up you too will see how they go together.

As for the other column,  BAD THINGS THAT HAPPENED THAT DIDN'T LOOK LIKE MOTHER DID THEM,  keep working on that one, hope you get it done someday.  And I hope this critical thinking has helped you become more aware of what had happened.  You're not going to match up all the things.  Some things you'll have to let go.  It's not going to always make sense. Welcome to the upside down world of a malignant narcissist.

It's just so sad.  Mother was gifted with a choice, she made the evil choice.  She actually WANTED to hurt me and make me suffer.  She chose narcissistic supply over me.  Yes, that is what she wanted. It's hard for me to understand why.  It is an addiction, yes but why?  Where is the heart, where is the feeling of love?  How about the compassion?  There are lots of those feelings but only for herself. She won't feel my pain. She doesn't care if I have to struggle through life as long as she gets a good fix of supply.  That is what she needed, not me.  I was only a vessel to get to that.

I need to learn to let go.  This isn't a person that means well for me at any time.  I have been no contact for 3 years and I hope there will come a day I can just put my nice shoes on without feeling horrible.

I have an obligation to myself.  To enjoy life to the best of my abilities.  I know even that will be hard.  At first I had to cope with what is lost.  What is lost?  Nothing. Because I did not have a mother in the first place.  But, it still feels like I lost something.  That's why acceptance has to be real.  Its not going to be logical for quite some time, but I can already feel it in my emotions.  What have I gained then?  Hopefully, my sanity.  And now, I may be able to deprogram myself.  This is so important.  To start with I'll have to pull away from these thoughts that mother did anything good at all.  That's right.  It was all programming.  My young mind was just getting started and it got taken over by an evil parasite, that never once would think of my best intentions, even though it SEEMED like it did.

I've had it with websites telling you how to get along with a narcissistic parent.  They acknowledge this person is bad but it's your mother and there are ways of being with them so that life can continue with them.  I would post their links if I had the courage.  I'm not into backlash right now.  Some are professionals in psychology.  I don't care.  Do my little critical thinking test, its much better.  I can see that my narcissistic mother never had a heart.

In fact, the best thing my mother ever did was tell me that she loves to see me miserable.  The mask came off and she did me a big favor by showing me who she really is.

That chart was just to prove that mother was into doing the good things so she could  continue to have a feast of captive source of narcissistic supply.  The good things she did was part of the mask. And no, she wasn't crazy, in fact she was perfectly sane.

Imagine what mother would say to me if she was a real human with a soul for just 5 minutes.  What I imagine her saying is this:  I didn't deserve my children.  I deserted you all, but I made it look like I really cared.  Now, none of you have eachother even.  I made you hate eachother, I made you all hate yourselves.  I tell you the truth.  My 5 minutes is almost up, so don't worry about what I will say to you after this time is up, walk away, run.  Stay far from me.  If I do call you realize its not your mother.  I hate to tell you that you never had a mother.  If I had more time we would go out in your nice shoes together.

Three years ago mother told me that she loves to see me go nuts.  She told me she likes to make me suffer.  Sometimes I think that is a cry for help?  Lately, I've been feeling that way.  Round and round again.

She is never going to awaken someday and decide to become a good person.  She wasn't telling me that so could reach out to help her.  I don't know why she told me that, maybe because no one else was around so it was another way to stick it to me.

Consequently the onus is on her.  Not me.  Yes that's right, I can walk away from this absolutely innocent.  That is my choice.

Sunday, September 14, 2014

An Evil Narcissist

If it quacks like a duck and has feathers like a duck, then its a duck.  I don't know if I got the quote right, but it's good enough for me.  That's basically saying that 2 strikes your a malignant narcissist. My husband's buddy, a horrible disgusting freak of nature.  I've got him on more than 2 times the count of a duck.  He triangulates us, he covertly calls me names, puts my husband in impossible situations where he's basically paying for all the work to clean the road of snow in winter (its a private road and we are a group that lives on this road).  He is grandiose, etc. etc..  This is sooo comforting, so glad to tell the world this.

Let's call him Douchebag.   He started this all by HELPING to pay for a machine and got hubby to do it.  Well, the roadwork needs to be done.  They are paying, but not enough. It doesn't cover the whole cost and he is running in the red before the winter is over.   My husband needs more money from the people here, but, feels uncomfortable asking, so Mr. Douchebag has an idea and is calling a meeting with all the people and my husband. Hmmm, a meeting with a bunch of people who don't want to pay more to get them to pay more?   Is this emotional manipulation or soul murder?  My husband just needs to clean the road, he doesn't need drama.

I should add in at some point that I don't attend any of the gatherings or parties that are held here.  I will have nothing to do with these people.  No one has approached me about it, so I can only assume that they think that the problem is me.  My husband attends the gatherings alone.  I go to town for all my socializing.  This has caused a big problem for us, he calls me stubborn but I have always held strong standards all my life, and I guess that is why I was the scapegoat.  The blessing of discovering I'm an ACON is that I get to be this way without anymore guilt about it.  And yes, I do realize I am not perfect myself.  

One day Douchebag came over, and I wasn't giving him attention. The malignant narcissist got up off the couch and told my husband that "Joan doesn't like me, Dan's wife don't like me either and she's a real bitch." This time I've been awakened and doing my reading.  I told my husband later that he called me a bitch.  My husband said, "No no, he called Dan's wife a bitch."  Seriously!  That went right past him.  I can't win with a psychopath.  Now, Douchebag is a charming fella.  Has to say hi, has to be the centre of attention even if I'm in another room working on a sewing project.  He is an up in your face character.  I find him a little too charming, and to hear him talk about women its disgusting.  Its like that Drew Peterson movie.

I wish I could talk about everything but  I can't make too long of a posting.  I'm so new to being an ACON that I seem to be sticking it to them because I can't get back at my mother.  But  I will not tolerate a freak.  They are disgusting, they want you dead, and if they can overtly kill you they will. As the teaching of Anna Valerious goes you have got to hold people accountable.  Be judgemental, so I guess I am trying to do that.  But holding people accountable around here makes me the freak.

My husband is really a very cranky Frenchman.  But he is also very eager to please people.  People here are taking advantage of that.  Who knows, maybe everyone that lives here are narcissists, but I don't know them well enough.  Maybe they are just going along with Douchebag.

The last time he came here about a week ago, I was hanging out the laundry, and he just had to talk to me.  He said, "Hi, Joan, how's it going".

I said, "Awesome, could not be better,"

I was not looking at him, so I couldn't tell what his face was doing.  But that is the best way to handle a MN, don't ask how they are doing, and they will suffocate from the lack of attention. After awhile, I thought I would join them in the conversation.  He was talking about a boo boo on his leg, he went to see the doctor because it wasn't healing.  The doctor said it was fine. But he went for some tests bla bla bla I wasn't really listening to the rest of it.  But then he said something about these things being some kind of benign tumors.  I was curious so I asked, "Are you sure?"

Then I saw the angry face.  Just like my mother, just like all the MN's I've seen in my life.  You question them, that is what you get.  The angry face.  Then my memory kicked in.  One time on the road as we were passing eachother, he wanted a chit chat with me.  I don't know what he was saying because he had such an angry look on his face, I was scared.  Just a normal conversation but he looked full of rage.  Then I left for my trip into town, and I forgot all about it until the angry incident over a boo boo.

I don't know what to think.  Before I awakened, these attacks were happening by his hand but I didn't know anything so I just let it go.  Now I know I have noticed everytime we see him there is something amiss.  And when I don't see him and my husband does, there is new arguments to deal with.  Douchebag, used a covert method to command him into believing I'm taking him for everything.  "Get a prenup," Douchebag told him as a direct order.  Somehow we get through it, but I'm not going to put up with the triangulation.

Last time, I told him this.  "I am not blaming you but I am an ACON and this guy is using you to get to me because he sees me as an easy target.  I might be right or I might be wrong, either way I'm choosing to be more paranoid, because of the risk, which I need you to protect me from", with full authentic emotion.  He doesn't know what I'm talking about but my emotions told the story for me. Men can't hear commands, its a threat to them.  He knows I've been doing lots of reading and although we go around in circles about this stuff, the feeling of me needing his help gives him something to do about it.  I don't just blast him out, I give him something to do, to accomplish.  I told him I need him to do it.  And I allowed myself to feel fully vulnerable, right in front of him.

Relationships aren't easy, ACON life isn't easy.  Thank you mom, I award you with a big pile of manure on your head.

That was the end of it, I haven't had that particular problem for months.  But he finds other ways to cause arguments.  I would type it but I can't wrap my brain around it.  Just things don't go well when Douchebag comes around.  Maybe its me.  I don't know, but I'm choosing to be paranoid.

I'm worried you all think I'm blowing it out of proportion, men talk, yes I know men talk, and I am a reasonable person.   Don't get me wrong.  But, as you know, these reptiles are hard to nail down. Like trying to nail jello to the wall.  The words of Anna Valerious.  Her teaching, I'm not quoting her, I haven't asked permission to do that.  But, I think I need to mention her teaching, because as a newbie I don't want to pull things out of thin air.  I got my learning somewhere.

I would rather be more paranoid than not.  If it was my own friend, that friendship would end.  I had a MN best friend for 20 years and that was hard to figure out but I did it.  Even though you love them you know they make you uncomfortable.  She would say and do horrible, mean nasty things at the worst times of my life.  But, you block it out cause you love them.  And hope next time you meet up it will be different.  This particular man is not my friend, so there is nothing I can do.  However, because I am an ACON I need to be on the alert.  Also too, ACON's tend to second guess ourselves.  

But I will not override my husband, it is his buddy which he has known longer than he has known me, and I respect that.  I also have to respect the fact that I have been raised as a targeted source of supply. This guy is trying to hurt me and he is giving me angry faces.  I don't need any teaching on the angry face, I can write that one myself.  I know it like the back of my hand.  And it hits me in the chest.  It makes me want to run away.  Yes, normal people can have the angry face that scares me too. But, usually its because I know I've done something wrong.  I'm not perfect and I may have crossed a boundary here and there, its not uncommon.  We all do it.  And we know it.  We know if we do something wrong to someone, be it by accident or whatever.  If we hurt someone, we know it.  We might not know exactly what it is that we have done, but we know we have done something. Its not ground in stone that it works that way all the time, but its fairly stable most of the time.

But, I haven't done anything to this man.

My husband is NOT an ACON.  In fact, his family is the dream of what families should be.  And he is a leader with all his brothers trying to follow in his footsteps, and they can't keep up.  His parents adore him.  He is a boss for a large world known company.  He talks, people listen.  He can bring 10 men to their knees, if necessary.

I don't know how Douchebag is getting away with it.  But I remember a teaching of Anna Valerious about the most covert are the most dangerous.  That one is burned in my mind forever.  

Thursday, September 11, 2014

Part 2 - Brainwashed into Addiction

And its not like she was blaming me.  She said, "You got drunk when you were just 3 years old."  I heard this all my life while I was growing up.  That didn't hurt me one iota.  I felt a bit of a rush from hearing it, it seemed to make her happy with me as she always said it with a happy tone.

Yes, it did happen.  My cousin and I got into the punch bowl at our uncle's (mother's brother) wedding.  My cousin just a couple of years older than me so she blamed him for it.  I remember that day rather clearly.  It was a beautiful June day, and Daniel and I hung out together.  I remember him going to Granmanan and she gave it to us.   I don't think mother blamed him to his face, just to me. "It was Daniel's fault, he got you drunk".  I just loved the punch, it was so sweet and it was very good.

She also blamed her own mother for it.  She said, "Manman gave you that punch, then Daniel set you drunk".  I don't remember much of Granmanan that day.  She was busy getting the food together, and yes I do believe she gave us the punch.  It was a wedding reception and I felt out of sorts, sort of like kids do when they feel in the way.  I was glad Daniel was close by to talk to and he made me feel safe.  I remember even at that age I had an incredible need to feel safe.  Too many people and I didn't know where to go, what to do, same feeling I have to this day.

She didn't blame herself and/or me for me getting drunk that day.  She just said I will be an alcoholic because no one drinks that much hot chocolate without turning to booze.  Why didn't she blame me?  I think its because it would have never served the purpose of turning me into an alcoholic.  I think she knew that guilt changes people's actions.  She used it on my dad and it was effective.  Why did mother want me to be an alcoholic?  I think because she wanted me to suffer.  My mother's last words before we went NC were, "I love to see you go all nuts."  Why did she say that to me at the end?  Because she felt it was all over.  Mother was at my place constantly and her taunting would drive me crazy.  I felt hurt most of the time.  One time, we were sitting on the couch, she turned and looked at me, "You got a great big fat ass,"  then burst out laughing.  This taunting continued until that last statement of loving to see me go all nuts.

My research indicates she said that because she had no accountability.  No one was watching, she was going in for the kill.  Ok, understand this, a malignant narcissist wants to kill you slowly,  but yes kill you.  I found that out in research too.  A malignant narcissist is a murderer, their whole existence is to kill.  Why do they want to kill you?  It is their goal all along.  Let's put it this way. Criminal malignant narcissists that go around killing people outright end up in jail.  Those MNs are screw ups. They screw themselves over.  Sometimes they are too grandiose, they have to prove their prowess to the police.  They want the attention so bad that they get caught.  However, there are successful MNs all over the place.  They kill slowly, emotionally, it makes them feel good.  When they kill, its like they are God.  That is the ultimate in control.   Not that they have any regards for the law.  They feel they are above humanity.  They are not willing to risk getting caught and land their lousy butts in jail. You will not find any sympathy for narcs from me.  I know they kill.  I know a successful narc who soul murdered her own daughter into a schizophrenic.  She was emotionally torturing that girl so badly that my own young daughter noticed and told me,  she even saw the supply being lapped up. My daughter didn't even know any of this stuff I'm talking about.  I've seen a lot of narcs in my time. They got attached to me like the fitting piece of a lego block.  

Anyway that was down another rabbit hole.

I never got the taste of alcohol like my mother thought.  I just wanted the sweet taste of that punch.  I wasn't drowning myself in alcohol, but she said "Oh well, you'll be an alcoholic what can I do about it?  Nothing."  Imagine hearing that from the age of 5 and up, words that I didn't even understand.  I think it was around when I was 5, but it seemed like I always heard it.  "Oh, I know you'll be an alcoholic, you got drunk at 3 years old!"  In the last posting, I was drinking hot chocolate to help calm my nerves, which were ravaged by mother.  Drunk at three, she used that to say I was pretty much an alcoholic already, so hot chocolate or punch, it was all the same.  I remember once I saw myself through which what mother was saying.  I would become an early alcoholic, my life would soon be over.  Maybe I was scared of being an alcoholic.  I think the narc actually went overboard this time.  She insilled me with fear that was so bad that tanked any efforts she made to have me do myself in with booze.

That has me thinking now, maybe it is good for me to have fear all along.  Fear saves us.  We sense danger, adrenaline kicks in then we are gone or we fight back.  Of course, I couldn't fight back, so any attempts made to be an alcoholic were cancelled out the fear.  For me it is a strong fear, the one that takes over.  I'm not sure if the threat was so serious or just that I've been in the danger so long. Either way fear has a place after all.  So I just feel all the fear and it will go away?  That is my theory. All I know is any attempts to block the fear is making things worse.

There was almost always alcohol at our house, and if I wanted to drink it I'm sure I was able to.  It wasn't monitored, so it wouldn't be a problem.  But I don't think she encouraged it once.  One memory I have held onto, mother was watching me standing next to a liquor bottle.  The look on her face was eyes wide open lips opened and pulled tight.  I remember thinking that it looked so creepy.  I know now that was a creepy look if ever I saw one, however, I would not ever let myself believe it.  

I didn't or don't even  like booze.  When I grew up and it was cool to drink, I didn't want to.  She could have spiked the hot chocolate she was giving me with booze, but I'm sure she never did. One time I was with mother as she was folding the laundry.  As she was picking up some longjohns (something we northerners wear in the winter under our pants) there was a small wood chip stuck inside.  The look on her face, wow, you would think she had discovered gold.  She said this to me, "Oh, your brother is going to have a hard time with that in his undies,"

I said, "Oh, ok I'll take it off".   I quickly removed the wood chip.

She yelled at me, "How come you can't mind your own business and leave things alone."  She then took the longjohns bent them over the floor and dragged the longjohns until the wood chip was picked back up and into the undies.  

So how come she just couldn't pick up the wood chip and stick them on the longjohns?  Why use the longjohnss to pick up the wood chip.  My theory is this:  I was watching.  So she was covering her ass.  The way she did it using the longjohns to pick up the wood chip and stick it back on, her hands were clean of the wood chip which is the culprit not the longjohns.  It was through this covert method I've seen through my formative years that brainwashed me into thinking that mother wasn't bad, that this just happens, oh well.  And, it allowed other narcs throughout my life to get away with the crap they pulled.  She even made an effort to not look at the wood chip, the offending thing. But, that got me to thinking, she never touched the wood chip, she never pried me with alcohol, she just left it lying around and tried brainwashing me to drink it.  Now I see a connection?  I'm not going to go so far as say she was developing a conscience but she knew right from wrong.  And by not seeing or touching the offensive thing, all was good.  Which would work.  Brother could confront her and it was all good, she didn't see or feel a woodchip in his longjohns.   Same with not getting me to drink in an overt way.  She used brainwashing instead.  She was on a mission, and the mission had to include keeping her hands clean.  As a matter of fact, she was always like that.

The brainwashing backfired because fear overrode it.  Tell me I'm going to do something that will kill me, insill me with fear, nice going.  In fact I saw nothing fun about getting drunk and wasted and I much preferred quiet gatherings.  Even tea parties were more my style.  When bad things happened, or dirty or sexual, I always turned away from it.  This seemed to annoy the crap out of people.  "Oh, your not much fun."   But I did actually find a narc to hang out with that enjoyed church socials and volunteering and shopping just like I did. and turned her nose at drinking and partying.

Something happened the day I got drunk at three.  I was being taunted by another girl.  She was around the same age as me.  Long dark hair and very pretty, I did not feel pretty at all.  I remember when I saw her I was very aware of how weird I felt about myself.  I felt out of sorts, like she had control of me by what she was saying.  She was not drunk.  She stood at the bottom of a set of stairs outside saying, "Oh I have a nice mommy and daddy.  Your mommy don't like you, my mommy told me that."  She said some other things about my family versus her family, I can't remember all of it.  I felt scared.  I couldn't even say anything.  I was trying to walk down the stairs, I wanted her to like me.  She was making an angry face.  I stopped.  I still wanted her to like me and I was scared of her.  I just wanted her to stop being so angry.  I'll always remember that little girl though.  And how scared of her I was.  I remember thinking, that she was saying those things, so they must be true, I'm no good.  I remember that.  I didn't know how she knew so much about my family.  She was a niece of the bride I think.

Now, how come was I so scared of another kid when I was three?  I know it seems plausible, that yes some three year olds may be scared.  But here's the thing.  I remember that feeling to this day and that feeling was so horrible I thought I was a big nothing.  And my mind racing to try to fix the situation. And me wanting her to like me?  I think I perceived a threat and I was used to always placating people.  Angry face then threats.  That is what I was aware of at three years old!  I know three year olds are not that aware.  In fact, they are all about a "me" attitude.  Just what is a narcissist?   A narcissist is a case of arrested emotional development at the  level of a three year old.  When I was three I was scared of angry faces and perceived threats, that was in emotions.  Emotions are exactly where we are.  You can have a beautiful day with everything just lovely and perfect, but your emotions are what calls the shots.  You have no way around that.  I think that explains why I felt so scared even while I drunk.  Now, alcohol is a depressant, and maybe that somehow played into my emotions.  But there is nothing really that complicated about a three year old.  In fact, all of us can only imagine things through our own life experiences.  That's it.  Alcohol didn't give me the knowledge of a perceived threat.  You can make your own judgement call on that one though.  I've made mine.

Oh yes, lots of psychology here to try to figure this one out.  But I was the child the narcissist clung to in my FOO.  She kept me in a state of "great love" for her and I tell you facts, just plain facts.  The memories are ones that I knew all my life.  In fact, I could have told you years ago about them, but I was not believing the truth, it was too horrible, and I WANTED to trust mother.  I lay it all down now, it is the first time.  Those memories lay deep seated in my emotions, I have to just feel it and they are there.

I don't remember much about how I got out of that situation.  I do remember the little girl's face dropped then mother was behind me.   That was it.  Years after the reception all I heard was mother saying she had to take me in and sit on me to make me stay put or else I would have killed myself on those stairs, I was so drunk.  Not too many years later I had the hot chocolate addiction.

I better stop there.  Tired of trying to figure out how it all ties in together.  These are the facts, memories I've keep for so long.  This is all so insane.  I thought by typing this all out it would make sense to me, but it seems to get so topsy turvy instead.

Sunday, September 7, 2014

Brainwashed into Addiction

I have really had to pray over this posting, I don't want this to be used on any child.  If you are a praying person, please pray for God to shut the eyes of the abusers to what I'm about to write.  I don't want to unburden myself only for another to suffer.  The post title is creepy, however, I needed to do that as a warning for what you are about to read.  I really need to talk about this in detail. I have big problems with fear, and I am done trying to cope with it in silence.  There is no counselling for what I need, no pill for me to take that will help. 

The paradox, no one warned me about what I was in for when I was born.  Maybe if by some small token, someone would have opened up, then maybe there was a chance that someone would have heard them, then seen what was going on, and all of that would have stopped.  All I was told, while growing up, was that I'm a spoiled little brat, which confused the crap out of me, because I was actually in a hornets nest, which I proceeded to be in a hornet's nest for many decades BECAUSE THAT IS ALL I KNEW.  I am willing to be a big mouth.

My gosh, we can't say anything because the information may get into the wrong hands?  I have heard that one before.  It is the information age, they can get it anywhere.  But still I pray it won't.

I'm going to tell you something horrible, keep in mind, it is hard to take but I would not have a blog otherwise.  I am a simple person who does not even use the computer much and I want to live a simple life.  I have not been able to do that.  I get stuck in fear, dread, and I can't deal with it anymore.  As far as pills and therapy goes, I have tried those.  I'll admit I learned some things.  Some life skills  that I should have learned in childhood from the therapy, the pills not so much.  Right now, I am not on any medications of any kind.  Not for years.  I haven't taken even so much as an aspirin. So, I'm feeling all my pain and anxiety, just letting my emotions take over.  How do I know its my emotions?  Well, there is no way to know for sure, but my hands race to type things that I'm not even thinking about.  I can't type fast enough, my mind has to race to keep up with my emotions, they go so fast, then before long I have to go away from the computer to again allow my brain to catch up so I can type. I have to do that before thinking takes over and my brain goes and screws things up and has to rationalize everything. If I start thinking of what to write, my thoughts will be a lie, that I have a nice mommy.  Emotions communicate to me by feelings, and I put words to these feelings.

The result is a form of word vomit that will make no sense to you but only to me, then I edit the thing put it into proper place for proper reading.  That is the job for rational thought, it does have a place. But the words come from actual emotions. As of now, logically and rationally, I'm not accepting what has happened. To accept that this was not my fault, but the work of someone else for no other reason, but to feel good, is unbearable!  This is ridiculous, how the hell has this happened?  How could God have made these insidious creatures?  Um, I need to stick to the topic at hand.  Emotions go all over the place but for my sake I need to get this out straight.

That wonderful mother I had that made me hot chocolate and babied me does not even exist.  It was all a con.  The real truth is that it was a wolf in sheep's clothing.  Fear, dread, took over my life more and more, and I turned to mommy more and more, then more fear and dread.  As of last night I remember the ability to defend myself was gone even from the time I was 3 years old!  I'll need to get into that at a later time for this posting is enough to digest.

How did I lose track of myself?  I didn't lose it, my mother stole it.  She babied me, treated me like an infant, and you know what?  I got the blame for it.  Mmmmmm.  And you know I think it was hard for me to believe even as a child people were so stupid, so I took it to mean that maybe I was spoiled and selfish like they were telling me.  So I took everyone's abuse.  And you know, I am not worried about flying monkeys, well I am, but not really.  They can come, they are the stupidest people. Imagine, believing a small child is responsible for making poor mom do everything to please this selfish child.  Maybe I'll tell the flying monkeys is that there really is a Santa Clause, I saw him. Since they like to believe in fantasies they may believe that.  I used to have to sit in her lap right up until I was fifteen years old!  Yeah, I was a spoiled brat!  People can be so stupid.  They didn't even know or even care about who I was.

The nice things that mother did?  Yeah, she did them, but only to exploit!  She has no sense of morals, she can't just do things, she has to use them to gag me.  Before I was even old enough to think, she stole everything I was born with.  My intelligence, love, emotionality, self esteem, authenticity, self-defence etc. she stole it all away.  And she can't even use it herself, it was no good to her, so why the hell did she want it in the first place.  She has no true sense of herself, everything she does is motivated by the need for narcissistic supply!  She doesn't even care if her own son died. It actually fed her narc supply, because he apparently died from being too fat, so that's something she gets to laugh about for the rest of her life!

Mother made me out to be a very smart child.  Go to school, get yourself an education, don't be dumb like me.  I guess I heard that all the way I was growing up.  Sounds good, something that a normal parent would say right?  Oh for sure.  However, I have another memory of something else as well.

The memory happened from about the time I was between 8-12, such a wide age range.  But I can't really remember how old I was.  It happened sometime before my teen years.  I didn't know a lot of stuff at the time, so I locked it away in my memory till the time I was old enough to understand what it all meant.  I realize now that I have always remembered this, but of course, it couldn't be true.  I doubted myself too much to believe it, it couldn't have happened because mother was a good person. Or I thought that it did happen but its ok, mother didn't mean it.

So one day when when I was alone with mother she started saying these things to me, she was saying "your going to be a drunk, your going to screw every man you see."  "Your too dirty, no one wants you".  I also remember "What are you going to do, when you can't ever get anyplace?"  I remember these exact words.  She said them over and over again and this went on for quite some time.  I remember it being so horrible that I wanted to fight back but couldn't.  That ability was taken away from me, my earliest memory being when I was 3 years old.  Its hard for me even to think about fighting back,  it always was, and I don't know what it even feels like to fight back.  Fighting back is something I can probably talk about some more but for now, I'm only mentioning it to fit with I couldn't fight back mother when she was saying very mean things to me.   And I remember this stabbing pain run right through me as she was saying such horrible mean things.

 Then it stopped. "Oh my poor baby, I'll make you some hot chocolate, its ok, it will make you feel better". I was stunned.   She went into the kitchen to make the hot chocolate and I remember her going in there and she had a bounce to her step, all happy.  For one second in time I wondered what happened why she so happy all of a sudden, as she was being so mean by putting me down.  I didn't even understand what those statements meant.  Then I remember that feeling of pain just go away. Its all ok, here is your hot chocolate, so I let it go, and the hot chocolate went down so well I can't even tell you how wonderful it felt.  The feeling of pain left my body slowly as all the world was anew now and it felt great to be out of it.  I was in a state of euphoria.  It felt great to be in mother's good graces again.

After that, all I remember is the shooting pain would come then the hot chocolate, and this would happen over and over again for years.  I clung to hot chocolate for dear life, I couldn't even imagine my life without it.  It got rid of pain.  Did she say mean things to me every time before she made the hot chocolate?  I don't know.  I remember the pain, and the hot chocolate.  I thought I had this wonderful mother everyone wished they had, she gave me hot chocolate whenever I felt bad.  Was she feeding me bad thoughts about myself through all those years?  The evidence I have that she did was that I would always feel pain right before the hot chocolate came.  That I am aware of.  I am also drawing that conclusion because it wasn't normal at my age to be feeling so bad and horrible about things I didn't even understand.  They just sounded horrible.  And the look on mother's face while she was doing it was mean.  All those horrible feelings would sit right in my emotions.  I couldn't remember them in my thoughts, I was attacked in my emotions, then got some hot chocolate. I had lots of pain, then hot chocolate.

About a year ago, I was cooking on the stove making this elaborate dinner and this horrible thought came to me, saying, "You are nothing but a loser."  I remember it exactly.  It was horrible, and I had to hurry the cooking and just throw it together so I could go sit on the couch, I was depressed.  But I remember lots of times I am sitting on the couch and so depressed I couldn't even get up.

Only twice I can remember the putdowns, one from mother, the other in my head.  Why do the putdowns escape me the rest of the times, I can't say.

Oh, there is a long explanation for what was happening here,  I think this is called thought planting, brainwashing, watch those MN's!  This is something my poor illiterate mother excelled at, she could have written a book for spy's (if she could write).  Why did I feel so badly, to the point of real sadness from such an early age about things that don't even matter to most kids.  How would I even have been capable of it?  Sometimes I asked for the hot chocolate, after awhile I asked and she never offered, but she made it but complained I was a pain in the ass.  But I needed it, it would always make me feel better.  And she would always make it, I didn't make it for myself even once.  I didn't know how. This went on until I was fourteen, when I started high school.  It was the time I stopped sucking my thumb as well.

Lots changed when I started high school.  Dad was already gone by then, but the evil continued.  I want to even talk about the time when I was three and got drunk which ties into the stuff I just talked about.  And remembering an incident at the age of three, of not being able to defend myself.  I'm starting to feel more comfortable with the writing, and a little less afraid of someone commenting and saying all this stuff your mother did was normal, get over it.

I didn't become those things that mother said I would be, but it did ruin my self-esteem, I always felt bad about myself, and I think it did ruin my life anyway.

Those mean things mother was saying was usually futuristic.  To this day I'm always worried and afraid something bad is about to happen.  It will come along and overwhelm me and I won't be ok anymore.  There is this constant thought running through my brain, "Don't be happy, you have things that will happen to you if you ever let your guard down."  Hmmmm, In therapy, the therapist said that my mind goes to the direct place of the worst case scenario everytime!  I always expect the worst.  I am never settled.  I have things that are bad and are going to happen to me.  These things already exist, hide from them now!  She could not make me an alcoholic but she can destroy me anyway. She did try to get me to switch the hot chocolate for alcohol, I'll have to get into that next, or soon.

To summarize, she made me out like I was going to be very successful in my career and life, but stole every part of what I was, or what I could have become, then told everyone it was my fault.  Truth was, I was having a horrible time coping with everything, "Oh just go to school, get an education",  Ok, I got the education, but I can't hold down a job.  I freak people out basically.  If someone is teaching me a task to do, one on one, I'm so scared of them.  If they are not a narc, they get freaked out by it.  I've had bosses, eyes rolled open wide, they think I have a mental illness.  Actually, over the years, I've heard phrases like, "spacey", "dopey" "in my own world"  "can't handle stress" from other people all about me.  Can't handle stress is a good one, It's what I've been doing all my life.  Not to mention that I have  a hard time with relationships.  There you go people, an actual soul murder. 

Thursday, September 4, 2014

Brother's Funeral

Just about the time of my awakening, I had commented on Anna Valerious's site In "Narcissists Suck" in the section "Your Most Fundamental Right" regarding my "mom".   I did not have much knowledge so my emotions were searing through me.  I borrowed this, with permission and cut and pasted my question (I bolded) and the comments regarding it.  This is from me, newly awakened, so just please bear in mind the anxiety I was feeling. But this is what it is like to have a MN mother.

Joan S said...
I so don't get this. Does anybody get this? My mother would often get into trouble with her big mouth. I remember a time a grown man was yelling at me over what my mother had said. Mother never said anything.

The only thing I can think of is that he was too afraid of her and went at me instead. I was 18 at the time, bruised and beaten down to my soul. A healthy 18 year old would have told that man who was responsible. But not me.

I don't get it. It will come to me if I don't try too hard. I'm just remembering this now.

Tundra Woman said...
The most fundamental task of any parent is protection of their off-spring. Since I live remotely I see this on a regular basis in the world of wildlife. I have never seen a paw, a beak, a hoof raised towards their young. I have seen them fight to the death to protect their little ones. Even in the world of animals this is a constant, recurrent behavior.

We didn't get that. Instead, the roles were reversed and we became their "protecters." We were pushed out in front as sacrificial offerings, as the Sherpas of all the problems and conflicts CAUSED as a result of the NP's behavior towards others-including ourselves. We blamed ourselves for all the problems in the relationship with the NPs, just as we were assiduously trained to do from our earliest memories and experiences: "I was 18 at the time, bruised and beaten down to my soul." Me too. How did this come about? By being ruthlessly terrorized and terrified into "compliance" with all their whims, wishes and demands. We were just kids trying to survive despite their relentless and successful efforts to deprive us of our right to self-preservation. Is it any surprise so many of us end up in disasters of relationships in our younger years? We were trained to be fodder for every Predator out there. It felt "normal" to live in fear and powerlessness.
We did not have "childhoods" or "growing up." Instead, we became mini-adults, way too old, way too young. We were burdened with their (often self-generated) adult "problems" and tasked with "solving" them. There was no boundary between the world of Adults and the world of Children. I have no idea what it means to experience a "care-free" process of maturation. It was being forced to jump back and forth between "Now be an adult" and "Now be my child" that was so difficult and left gaping holes in some knowledge areas and over-developed knowledge in other areas. ex: I lacked basic knowledge of concepts like Boundaries and had way too much information on my Dad's impotence-in the 1950's during middle childhood.
The memories are often locked away. IMO, we have to feel safe before they start to surface. Sometimes, they still bring me to my knees even now as an old widow, just little memories that pop up, like what happened my first day of First Grade. If we lived through the event, we'll live through the re-telling to ourselves. In my experience, it is through this re-telling our personal narrative starts to make sense. There *is* Accountability for all of us, including our NPs who failed at even their most primal role: Protection of their children. For that, they are entirely responsible.

reg said...
It is easy to feel dignified by proselytizing the victim to love her/his tormentor/killer. Just the killer also proselytize same. But who cares the poor victim, who is forced to accept terms of the killer.
It is easy to correct the victim, blame the victim. (S)he is terrified to understand the narc sympathizer.
It is easy to make the victim to swallow the corrections. But who correct the narc ? Who stops evil actions of the Narc? Who save the life and sanity of the victim? Who stop the victim from being the pawn of the Narc. Who would ease the pain of the victim.

Also, when I first awakened I had a short conversation with Lisette at House of Mirrors.  When I told her my mother was only smirking at my brother's funeral, she said she thought she would have cried a lot and made a big scene for herself (something like that).  I told her mother doesn't cry.

Sigh.  We lost our oldest brother some time ago.  Now knowing what I know I'm going to go back over to that time and try to put some knowledge into it.  This is my MN mother at her son's funeral:

My MN mother can do anything and it's all ok for everyone.  She's cross and you better not get in her way.  She gathered the attention for herself without having to shed a tear, and made my brother look bad in the process.  This is an easy memory for me.  And, as of right now, I don't remember any other funerals we went to.

It's kinda strange when you see your MN mother at your brother's funeral and the look on her face is making you feel badly about grieving.  I kinda felt like it was telling me to don't act out in public, so I didn't.  I didn't know my brother, we have been apart for years.  There is no smiling, there is nothing funny about this either, just a vague feeling of nothing as mother smirks and others cry.  I don't understand it in a logical sense either.  I mean, it looks like you can approach her and she'll console you, it LOOKS like it.  She had this mean look on her face, we had gotten so used to always seeing her that way.  So some people approached her and she would just nod her head and act like she is trying to grieve.  "He never liked funerals, its too bad he had to go like this, it's too bad though ohhhhh".  Then what she did next would throw you into a tailspin, all the while looking like a normal stage of the grieving process.  "Why are you crying for, you big sucky, what he did, he did to himself, he has no one to blame but himself."  But I tell you this all sounds so normal. I have only one experience of another mother at a son's funeral. This lady was in the serving area arranging everything.  She was trying not to grieve either.  Her friends approached her and took care of her. Somehow getting her to feel again.  My mother stayed in the main section of the funeral home. Sitting in a chair with a very mean look on her face.  But, it was to mean that she was "grieving", so accept that. 

I don't know why it was me who got so attached to mother.  The others in my family can and actually do things on their own.  They are not psychopaths and they feel everything.  My sister was crying openly, mother even told her to stop doing it, "What your brother did was his own fault, why are you feeling sorry for him".   But my sister just ignored her, maybe tried to stop crying, but she was not controlling or able to control how she was feeling.  Mother moved on, and just followed my sister with a huge smirk.  Whether I feel or not is up to the dictates of mother.  I sense that they don't feel anything either, but they feel like they should and my other brother leaves the funeral to tend to his MN wife, as she didn't want to be there.

So yeah, I guess the smirking is a grieving process.  It's judging me to behave a certain way, so don't grieve, don't be sad, your brother didn't take care of himself.  "He ate too much of the wrong food, look at me I live on cabbage soup I'm the one you should be looking after, not him.  And now I have no one to till my garden anymore.  Look what he has done.  His wife won't even give him a proper coffin to bury him in.  He is in a pine box, and she arrived at his funeral with her boyfriend."  I didn't notice my brother's wife with any boyfriend at the funeral, she was constantly surrounded by lots of people though.  Yeah, I know, this is how she "grieves" get used to it.

Intertwining with, "Ohhh, its too bad though."  When she was saying that it was with a special voice that changed in decibels, like a song.  Hope that makes sense.

Reading this back over, it is fair for me to mention that I did stay over at mother's and she took care of everything, cooking, cleaning, I slept in a clean bed and she washed and folded my laundry, and I went back home with all clean laundry.  Yeah, I was confused too.

So, I went to my brother's funeral alone, as my second husband was at home, in a long state of depression that he can't get out of bed from.  He had taken to his bed, and he has been there since the day we got married.  I was with him for almost 18 years and there was no prying him out of bed. Except to eat or watch tv.  He was into pornography which was kept openly all over the house.  Every once in a while I would protest, he would put it away but it wouldn't last for long.  He was a narcissist, but he wasn't a predator, but he was so full of himself and grandiose and didn't like to be questioned.  His putdowns were severe though but that only means he was a feeder, not a predator. No, he did what he wanted, to hell with anyone else, and he could never be held responsible for his behaviour, it was always someone else's fault.

When mother got rid of dad when I was 13, my brother took over taking care of mother. When we were little dad and brother got along really well.  When brother grew up, he and dad were fighting and not getting along for a long time. So when dad left brother took us shopping, visiting anything she had wanted.  I used to sit on her knee in the truck with my sister in the middle and my brother driving.  I couldn't get off her knee for any reason.  I had once protested that maybe I could sit in the middle for once and maybe my older sister could stay home, we could take turns and next time I would stay home.  "What a selfish, spoiled kid you are.  Get on my lap right now and stop acting so selfish!"  So on and on this went until I was almost sixteen years old.  Even if my brother stopped to talk to someone, I couldn't discreetly scootch off her lap to make it look like I was sitting beside mother and not on her lap.  "Get over here NOW!"  Oh well, she just loved me and wanted the whole world to know it is all.  People would look and laugh, she would just say I was the baby, the spoiled little brat.

My brother took care of my mother like a husband would.  I guess he was selfish for dying the way he did leaving her.  She did have a man in her life at the time.  But she needed both men to help her with things.

We all thought her man was selfish and mean to her.  He took over the farm and made things run his way.  This is true, but how he did it is beyond me.  He was good in bed, mother said.  He also paid the bills and took care of her.  I guess he had a purpose.  

When I was in contact with my mother and sister we went to his graveside.  Mother said, "He didn't like you, remember that".  Triangulation even after his death, can you believe that?  But what it actually sounds like that she is worried about you grieving too hard and this is consolation.

It must be strange to anyone who is reading this right now.  I talked to my other brother about it.  He and his MN wife both agree that some people just grieve this way.  Hell, before I was even saying mother grieves this way.  How in the world she sells this I don't know.  We all bought it, no doubt. Of course mother has a soul, a great big soul, you just can't see it. She uses anger to grieve, sure, we all do that, but with her that's all there is.  

I can't understand why an MN thinks they are ok, and try to hide the truth about themselves. Obviously, they know they are different, Don't they want to be normal?  Is it all comfy in that murderous mind?  I don't know.  And, isn't it a kicker when you read how they have it that they don't see you, that you are no more than a chair to them?  That just boggles my mind.  And some actually do cry, hugely.  Still just as soulless, just as freaky.  I think my MN sister-in-law escaped the funeral because there was enough with one freak in the place, so she would be unable to get any attention. My brother (her husband) ran after her.  They drove 3 hours and stayed for just a few minutes.  Oh well, MN's are in charge.

Now when I think about it, I think mother got away with such huge inconsistencies because she was masculine and was always that way.  Some may say butch, but I'm not going to use that term after this posting.  Some women are butch and masculine and that's fine.  They may not grieve like the other ladies, but I've seen them have feelings that are real.  I guess in my FOO, my mother has trained everyone to believe that masculinity means strength, and you better be strong or else.  She didn't accept me the way I was, wanted me to be like her and I couldn't.

So that is why she is accepted the way she is.

I thought it was an easy memory for me.  It was hard to come up with this, things kind of went in pieces and it's really hard to explain.  Nothing flowed together as one actual event.  I just fell into this role and that, ok rather screwy, I'll leave it at that.  Any further explaining I do will just confuse me more.  But, my intent was not to confuse.  Oh well, that's what it is.