Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Friends of the Family

I resent typing this because I don't know if this is someone else's problem or mine.  But seeing as this has been on my mind, might as well tell you.

Where do I begin?  The pain was just horrible growing up, but to me it just seemed so normal.  I remember coming home to spotless floors, and homemade bread.  Winters were so cold back then but we got to sit on the couch all warm and cozy with slices of homemade bread after school.  I would even watch mother start cooking pork chops in the electric frying pan.  I don't like an electric frying pan and don't have one, the things conjure up bad memories for me, that I don't even remember.  Just looking at one makes me want to puke.  But I loved watching her cook in it.

There was lots of happy times, from what I can remember.  I was physically active but I had to stay close to mother at all times.  I would come up with games to play outside on my own, I guess that was ok.  The law of attachment varies.

After dinner I would go outside to play.  There were things we played at school recess that I engineered to play alone.

We were indeed a weird family when we grew up.  Ok, not a lot of people wanted to be around us, it seems like there were at times different people, but I knew a family that we were a lot around.  They were nice people.  It was fun to go there, as there house was always a mess and no need to worry at all.  They were just so laid back.  The mother was smart and educated and clearly this was amazing for me.  There was something like eight kids, but a few were grown up and on their own.

They owned a farm.  The farm was unkempt.  There were a few cows, and chickens, but it wasn't functioning.  From what I understand, farms have to make some money to pay the taxes that are much higher than living in town.  They eventually lost their farm and moved to the city, but that's for later.  For now, they had the farm and it was fun to go there.  They were much more laid back, and their food was plentiful, which they would share all around.  But they were dirty, and had bedbugs, and, well, they just lived with the bedbugs.  I don't know how mother kept the bedbugs out of our house, if we did get bedbugs, I'm sure she would have been horrified.  We were always back and forth at eachother's homes.

But it was fun.  We would all go camping together, and the youngest daughter was my close friend.  I still remember, and I'm sure she does too, that one time we were on top of a horse and then the horse took right off, knocking us off, we both laughed.  The memories were so good.

The mother of that family was the woman who got me to the hospital the day I cut my foot with the axe, and thank God she was there I'm telling you.  Mother turned to her emotional 3 year old, the mask was off.  She didn't want to handle this, it was clear.  But the other mom was there and even held my hand while my foot was being stitched up at the hospital.

We would go swimming, ride horses, go camping.  The girl I was friends with didn't go to the same grade school as me.  I was in Catholic, she was in Public, but we were from a small town and the gossip from the other kids came to me.  That she was dirty, and her pants would come down to show her butt crack.  But who cares right?  I enjoyed this time and this family, in a way, was what saved me from a horrific childhood.  When they came for a visit, I never wanted them to leave, I felt so safe with them around.  Except for the father, but I'll get to that.

But, it was hard to maintain this girl's friendship.  She lied all the time, there was no truth in her.  It was more of a lie just to talk, she wasn't hurting anyone, just a huge liar.  It was ok, but who could be friends with her?  I was always annoyed by her lies, but somehow I don't think I was gaslighted, I knew she was lying.

After she grew up she had a disabled son, and a lot of her seemed to grow up from the lies, I suppose it did.  We would talk all the time on the phone as truth seemed to have stabilized.  So I started to trust her.

About 10 years ago she called me and told me that 3 of her brothers were having sex with her from the time she was two, till she was old enough to leave the house.  She told me that her mother was having sex with all the brothers.  She even told me that she was forced to have sex with her brother when she was sleeping right next to me on the bed, during a sleepover.

I don't know what happened after that.  My marriage split up, I was on the run again, so we lost contact.  But I never forgot what she told me.

Its weird because as I was thinking about her for a few days, she called me yesterday.  We had a long talk, and it was apparent she obtained a level of healing, although she told me she was totally healed. She spent years seeking out counselling and found the answers through many sources.  She said she went to counselling, some religious stuff, some native shaman stuff, some secret of the universe stuff. She overwhelmed me with so much stuff that I had to tell her so.  I told her please I can only take this one step at a time.

She informed me of me getting drunk a few times when I was a child.  I remember getting drunk when I was three, she remembered me getting drunk when I was seven.  She said my whole family was alcoholics and drank beer like water.  Oh, it was a lovely talk, some memories were actually quite pleasant.

Some were bad.  When she was little her mother threw out her medicine bottles when she got sick. She said that her mother was the only one allowed to be sick in the house.  That my mother actually gave her mother shit for doing that.  As her mother gave my mother shit for other things.  They were the family that got me to the hospital when I cut my foot with the axe.  Now ain't that screwy?

But she felt my family was quite normal and was shocked by what I had to say.  I do believe the stuff she talked about in her childhood.  After she mentioned them, I can actually "see" it now.

She told me that her mother didn't treat her like she did the brothers.  That she was watched more carefully because girls can get pregnant and boys can't.  I had to laugh at this, but I don't think its bad for families to watch more carefully and protect the daughters.  I don't want to get into another anti-feminist rant over this, so I won't.

She said things were horrible when she was growing up.  Except when we were around or when her father was home from work.  She said her father was the best and her mother treated her father horribly, and he tried to straighten out the family.

I didn't tell her that her father used to try to grab my butt, I spent my childhood running from his grasping.  And one time when I was twelve and we were out camping together, her father came behind me and bumped me with his midsection.  Now I know thinking back he had an erection.  A very big one in fact.  I felt it, ugh. I was setting the table and he was behind me for a long time, growing this thing and then he humped me.  I can't tell her that.

I felt I had to warn her of the memories and thinking they are good memories.  I know, we all want our good memories but if you have been raised in a sociopathic household, how much of it can be true?  We lived in a world of gaslighting, so maybe most of it was just that.  Or perhaps, our child minds were blackmailed into being happy, when we weren't.  Oh my, I'm afraid this is too deep, even for me.

She said some memories were real and we were happy.  Maybe.  But what memories are we to trust and believe.  I wanted her to understand that maybe some fear, obligation and guilt could play a role in us wanting to believe some good memories.  Do you trust your memories to be true?  And if they are not true, maybe they aren't safe to trust them.  And since no family is perfect can anyone actually believe and trust their memories?

When I was in my last marriage, he was the all around "good guy" and I remember some good times with him.  And sometimes I believe he is more "pleasant" to be around the husband I have now. I can talk to him, and he listens, but the participation is minimal.  At least, I think so.  Really so different from my last husband was a conversationalist. And very interesting.  But I was always being interrupted and he was the only one who had anything worthwhile to say.  But it was ok though, he was interesting and so much fun.

If I was to look at it, it would probably look like the last husband was better.  But my gosh, he was a complete sociopath.  And the child mind does that, it needs to protect itself.  The happy guy was just a ruse for what evil lay underneath.  I've seen the mask come off sometimes, and what happened was outside normal humanity.

As I longed for the truth I asked her how did she get my phone number and to that she would not answer me.  There it is.  That tiny bit of danger.  It is rational, I think, to tell someone how you got their phone number.  It was years since we have spoken and I ran here and the phone number is not listed in my name.

She could have gotten it from my sister.  And sister is in contact with mother.  This old friend might still be in contact with my sister.  Absolute no contact for me means exactly that.

She didn't go to her mother's funeral and she says she has been out of contact with her family for 28 years. Unfortunately, the last time we talked she was still camping out with her family 10 years ago. I'm afraid I smell a rat.

Saturday, April 25, 2015

Contentment vs My Mind

A Babbling Brook
As far as the emotional damage from the emotional molestation is concerned, sometimes I can be all fine, calm and serene, then all of a sudden I feel fear so powerful, and it just comes out of nowhere. For no reason.  I'm not sure if that's the case with a lot of people, I discovered it on my own.  Its the most awful feeling.  I remember having that feeling then just trying to block it and hope it goes away that way.  I would never let it just pass or try to feel through the pain to the original thought.  I do that now.  Its been helping.

My mother was a fear sucker.  She ate fear like it was a T-bone steak.  I was born to her, ok, and so therefore it was my regular job to make her "feel good".   Fear, panic, anxiety and humiliation was all the same to her.  If I lived my life of fine houses and cars, in no way would this make her feel good. This was not a normal human being.  It was even less than a nothing.  It fed on my fear.

Like I said before, no contact was just the first step.  This thing has to be obliterated from my mind and soul.  I think that is what Anna Valerious was talking about when she said that in regards to her mother, she was indifferent.  No pain, no anger, no love, just indifference.

I'm trying to get to that point now.  It feeds my anger to call my mother all kinds of names on here in blog world.  Anger is good.  Anger burns through the feelings of love I may have felt for mother at one time.  It was scary at first and now it is becoming more natural.  It doesn't make me a bad person. I still have compassion for my loved ones.  Just mother is no longer included as my loved ones.  Once the anger burns through then I will be indifferent.

I was afraid of anger.  I was afraid that it would turn me into a very hateful person.  But it has not done that.  Anger needs to do its work.  It needs to burn through any love I may have felt towards mother.

Is it important for me to feel indifferent towards mother?  Yes!!!!  I think this may be my freedom ticket.  It will restore my sanity.  My mind still looks to please, and if I'm not trying to please, then in my mind that means I'm unpleasant.  My gosh, I know logically that is not true at all.

And I now see things so much more realistically, that its getting kind of depressing.  No longer do I have the childlike innocence.  This whole thing has taken my innocence, where did it go?  Does being wiser make me less innocent?

Like for instance, and this is funny.  There was a fella at the bible study this week who said that there are times he feels jealous that his wife doesn't have to shave and he does.  In my mind, what certainty can he claim that his wife won't have to shave tomorrow.  I wanted to tell him that.  At anytime her hormones could go wacky and he and his wife would both be shaving.  That's the level of understanding of certainty that I have now.  But it has not given me peace.

Its sort of depressing.  Now I don't depend on certainty.  I just live one day at a time and really appreciate my loved ones and everything else here on earth.  I know that's what we are supposed to do but I still find it depressing.

Its necessary and good.  And I don't feel like getting towards indifference towards mother is just automatic.  I will have to depend on the anger, and try to fuel it when necessary.  Especially when a part of me wants to pity my mother.  I don't want to pity her, she doesn't even deserve my pity, but I do it sometimes anyway.  I think its an automatic thing.

Its like alcoholism, you have to let the addict die for the healthy person to live.  I don't know what indifference will bring to me, maybe nothing.  Maybe it will be a huge gift too.  I don't know, but I have to bring it to pass.

When I feel fear that comes out of nothing, it actually is coming from somewhere.  Some seeds from the past comes back to haunt me.  Things that were said to me to make me feel bad, so someone else can have pleasure.  Once I stop trusting those thoughts, maybe they will stop, I don't know.  It is worth the effort though.

When Lisette from House of Mirrors just posted up some stuff about narcs and gossip, I was seriously taken aback.  I remembered a scene in which a family that lived next door to us actually sold out of their farm and moved away.  Not too far away, just enough to get away from my crazy family and the gossip my mother was implying on the man's wife.  Gee, I have no idea how much money they lost doing that.  I suppose it may have been quite a lot.  I have no idea.  If I ever met them on the street I wouldn't know what to say, probably just shrug my shoulders.

But gee, maybe they are reading this, there is that possibility.  And if they are, then I feel badly for what happened, but not to the point of really feeling that badly, I can only feel so much badly here. Its not like I take responsibility for my family's behaviour.  These were my formative years.  And if they are reading this then I just want them to know that I didn't have a family, I had a family of origin, and there is a huge difference between the two.  And I do acknowledge their flight from being next door to the wacky people.  I was not one of those wacky people, I was trapped in it.

Speaking of taking flight, we were watching a movie about a woman escaping a rather perilous situation in a movie called, "Last Chance Cafe".  She found love and peace with a rancher.  My husband said it was like the story of my life.  "Did they make that movie in honor of you?"

That sucks.  I was so upset I couldn't discuss it.  It was embarrassing and humiliating.  He has never seen the things I have seen.  I was always on the run.  Lots of stories to tell, and it was amazing I got through and got help when I did.

But this feeling of living in reality sucks sometimes.  There were no magic Cinderella stories.  No fantastic things to tell here.   Not being in certainty is driving a hole into my innocence, and I'm sure I'm missing a big piece here.  And this part of not expecting or desiring approval is hard.  Living in authenticity, I just feel like I need some magic here.  Fireworks or something.  I never thought I'd reach the point of not having to worry about every little thing.

I just can't be happy with the bills paid and food on the table.  I'm not content with it, and I know I should be.  I was always on the run, depending on some kind of magical recovery.  In my mind it would have been everything.  But it is just life I guess.

I am no longer on the run.  I am more happy now than I ever was.  Not living in a state of constant panic is good.  I just thought it was supposed to be a big deal is all.

I still have daily struggles with fear and panic.  I'm just not on the run anymore.  What I have to go through now is nothing compared to my life and the way it was.

Maybe you can say that I got used to the chaos.  And I dreamed that the way out was going to be fantastic, so happy that I could explode.

I don't explode, but am I incapable of feeling joyful?  Are there permanent scars?  Ok, I'll say it, what's next for me to accomplish?  Oh, I hope I'm not one of those drama people who go looking for trouble just for excitement.  I don't think I am.  I am happy.  Just not the big deal I thought it was.

Monday, April 20, 2015

So Whose Fault Is It Anyway?

I think this is the worst picture I ever took but yeah, I take all my own pictures now
Its that Aunt thing again.  Before I saw her that day, I never realized that no one was accepting the truths I was offering them.  I thought for sure she would understand and even agree with my no contact. .

And it didn't happen.  It was awhile ago now, and still I can't let it go.  Maybe because I have so much more to say on this subject.  As my consciousness opens up, I'm finding reality.

I had this dream last night.  I dreamt that I was eating at this restaurant.  The food was full of bugs. The rest of the restaurant patrons were eating it very well, and enjoying it.  I went up to some people and asked, "How can you enjoy that?  Don't you see the bugs?"

"Its ok, the restaurant can't help keep the bugs out of the food and we eat it anyway. Its still very good.  Just try not to look at the bugs."  Was the reply.

In a way, I was throwing blame on my aunt, for never acknowledging this.  And this didn't sit well with her.  She didn't want to be the blame.  I wasn't blaming her, but essentially by putting the truth in her face, she felt any acknowledgement on her part, she would be the blame.

So she threw the whole thing back on my shoulders, and I think that is what I've been struggling with. She didn't say this was all my fault, but she had to, she had to put this blame on me, or otherwise how would she live with it?  She can't live with it.  So therefore she took the easier route.  That is, to blame me.

She even brought up the fact that I stayed in many women's shelter's throughout my life.  That she even donates to them.  Nice!

That's guilt right there.

I don't even blame her for what happened to me throughout my formative years.  What could she have done?  Very little I imagine.  All I wanted that day I met her, was for her to accept me.  I wanted some acknowledgement of the truth.  I wanted her to say, "Yes, I understand and I don't blame you for hating your mother, and thank God you went no contact.  At least you can live in peace now." That is all I wanted.

But that didn't happen.  It is never going to happen.  Not ever.  I must accept this now, and live in peace regardless of anyone accepting it.

I remember back through the years, and things were tough.  They were the days of the third wave feminist!  Empowerment for women.  This whole movement was about to bury me!  I hate it.  It brought nothing but pain and shame to me.

If you are a super feminist about to blast me in my comment section, then blast away.  I will bold your comment for you, so everyone can see what a stupid ass you are!  You might tell me I can't blame the feminists, but I'm going to anyway, so there :P  I alone have the power, or rather should I say "empowerment", given what I had gone through.

I take possession of blasting this stupid movement!  Because I can!

Getting back to what I said, the feminist movement told me to do this or that.  I couldn't do this or that, I had not the street know how.  Feminists are street people, pure and simple.  Able to do anything.  I was never allowed or taught how to be a person for myself.  Wonderful feminists where were you then, for this wonderful girl child.

I wander around trying to feel my way through this, and this anger takes right over.  There will come a day.

I'm sure I can tell my aunt was saying to me, "You can't blame everything that went wrong with your life on your mother."  She essentially did say it.  So I can't blame feminists and I can't blame my mother.  Who's left?  Me?

Of course, this is all my fault.  Just like it was my fault to get punched in the face, unable to work for a living.

Unable to work for a living.  Lets talk a bit about that shall we?  Shall we talk about poverty, starvation, homelessness etc, etc?  This was all my fault?  You think?  Don't you think I wanted more?  That anyone would want more?  One person told me that I had a snowballs chance in hell of ever being successful.  I guess that is my fault too.  The anxiety, constantly living in a state of panic, I must have chose this.

Maybe without feminism, my ex would have been forced to put on his big boy pants and go to work. He would not be given the coveted title of househusband who spent his days sitting around, eating, sleeping, masturbating on the computer.  Without feminism these things were never allowed.  You feminists go and try to explain this one to me.  You go and explain to me that his not working was all ok.  That is was my job to get a job to support us all.  Because now we have equal rights.  Yay!

That is the equivalent of telling me that I'm going to fly to the moon all by myself.  But I have no rocket.  Doesn't matter.  You can build your own rocket, fly out into outer space, imagine the empowerment?  Even if I can't fly a rocket after I somehow manage to build a rocket, it doesn't matter.  You can learn to fly, imagine the empowerment!

Awesome.  I am going to research all I can to learn all I can about rocket building and flying them. The information is out there.  And I'm going to be empowered.  Imagine the approval I would get for doing this.  The empowerment.  And I am going to have my rocket built by sundown.  Hey, its possible, isn't it?  Didn't you tell me that nothing is impossible?

I thought I had some good things to say about feminism, like they built women's shelters for me.  Oh well, I can blow that one out of the water too.

Or the former exhusband.  Drug dealer.  Emotionally dependent, abusive.  Go to a women's shelter, empower yourself.  Make yourself a future, get a job.  Live on welfare.

I just want to let you know that I do all things now without feminism.  At the end of the day all I want is to be loved and cherished.  To have a roof over my head.  To have regular meals.  To live in peace. I have learned that.  I have found my true self and it had nothing to do with feminism.

Somehow I have survived all this.  Somehow, I got through.  And I shall continue to get through.  

Saturday, April 18, 2015

Trying to Live Normal

Right now I'm trying to tell myself to wash the dishes then go bathe, wash my hair, do my nails.  I'm having a bit of a hard time.  Its that Aunt thing again, ugh.  Hard to get past that.  it still plagues my mind. or is it other things, I don't know why I feel the way I do really.  Anyway, I really made a mess in the kitchen.  I made hamburgers and french fries for dinner, all from scratch.  Husband is gone to work for the night.

I'm having a struggle here.  I wanted to research self-care and why its so hard sometimes.  So I did a little research and I found this and decided to share.  I find this absolutely positive and I'm going to be taking it one step at a time.

How To Break Free From Scapegoating

  1. Understand that what you have come to believe about yourself as family Scapegoat – i.e. that you are bad, weird, inadequate or defective - is not the truth.  In fact it’s likely a lie that was created to prevent family members from acknowledging their own troubles, thereby avoiding taking responsibility for both their behavior and the need to change.

  2. Locate and trust your ‘Inner Owl’ – that wise part of you that knows you have been mistreated and will no longer willingly allow this abuse from others or yourself.

  3. Recognize that feelings of shame, guilt and self blame belong to the perpetrators, not you as target.  You are simply a dumping ground for their bad feelings.  To change this you need to start standing up to the notion that you are at fault.  You will likely have to begin with yourself, learning to question and reject seeing yourself as ‘bad’.

  4. Get to know your true self.  Identify exceptions to the negative stereotype you have been saddled with.  In other words, pinpoint what is good, likeable or at least adequate about you - your character, values, actions, etc.  Write down your good traits – you will need to be reminded of this alternate universe, which is the truth about you, especially if you start to fall back into the habit of feeling bad about yourself again. Understand that getting better – and feeling better - is a learning curve, and you may slip a few times before you gain solid footing

  5. Figure out what you might be doing – consciously or unconsciously – that gives scapegoaters the idea that it’s OK to abuse you.  Determine how to change any behavior that draws you into the Victim role.

  6. Stop trying to win the favor of abusive and uncaring family members, co-workers or ‘friends’.  Anyone who engages in this type of inappropriate behavior has personality problems, especially a parent who did not love their child.

  7. Don’t expect abusive family members to apologize or make amends.  They will likely blame you more if you attempt to hold them accountable.

  8. Start asserting your right to be treated respectfully with family and other people who try and abuse you.  E.G., “The way you just spoke to me now is not acceptable, and I never want to be talked to like that again”, or “If you want to have a relationship with me, you will stop the angry outbursts, name calling, accusations, etc.”  Know that you may not be heard or respected by aggressive people.  The point is that you hear and respect yourself!  Don’t do this until you are ready to follow through with your commitment to yourself.

  9. Accept that you may never have a healthy relationship with your scapegoater(s).  This may involve limited or no contact with those who are determined to continue to abuse you.  You may experience feelings of grief.  Work through the painful feelings, and get support if needed.  This pain is much less harmful than continuing to allow yourself to be abused by anyone.

  10. Get in the habit of treating yourself with kindness, caring, compassion, appreciation and acceptance.  Practice viewing yourself as a person of worth and lovability.  This will likely feel weird at first as it is unfamiliar.  But even though it is unfamiliar, treating yourself in a loving manner is never wrong.

  11. Understand that it will take time to learn how to love and appreciate yourself.  You have been trained to be overly self critical and may believe you are defective.  Be patient as this false image gradually crumbles.  Get counselling to help you overcome this painful legacy, and find your true self - the strong, valuable person you are meant to be.

  12. Practice what you preach with others…  Break the cycle

Friday, April 17, 2015

My Dating Advice

I hear some child abuse survivors are beginning to date.  I may have some advice.  :)  Aw, come on you know I would.

Now, here's the one big, big thing that must be addressed.  It's how we feel about ourselves.  As you know, I've studied this thing to death and therefore I know there is one thing that we can't get around. What does the opposite sex want?  Well, mainly I can only talk for women here, but men might get something from this.

Single men are looking for the high value woman.  That's right.  Let's talk about my mother for a moment.  And this is a memory.  She hated people who were high class, but she hated the low class too.  I can't put mother's personal values into a box if I tried.  They are all over the place.  But if you acted all high class she wouldn't talk to you.

Here's what I think.  She can't get narcissistic feed from a high class person.  She can from a lowly person.  I think its that simple.  But she brainwashed me to be low class, for she said it was better to be humble and then she brainwashed me to hate myself for being low class.  Do you remember my posting about humiliation?  Yes, that's what she wanted.

But I know for a fact that single men are looking for high value women.  I have studied it.  Please don't close this thinking you don't fit the bill here, I'm not done.

I know I have things wrong with me.  Things missing.  I was made that way, and I feel that I can correct some of the damage, but I can't correct it all.  Maybe I can, but I'm sure I'll be paying for a few Mercedes for therapists before healing were to happen.  If it ever does.

I have full medical coverage for therapy.  I could see any therapist I want to, take any drug that is needed.  I look at it this way:  I can spend all my time in the therapists office or I can just go on with my life the way it is.  I choose the latter.  And I embrace it.  I embrace life.

We can have it all in life and in love, when we embrace the actual imperfections that have caused us so much grief.  Hey, after all, I believe my life was crazy, a train wreck does little to describe the pain and agony I went through.  I was never enough, and spent my whole life trying to be enough, and I never made it.

Now, I am enough.  It was not careers that make me enough, or fancy cars or houses.  Just me.  There is still work to be done here on me, but for now and from now on I choose to believe that I am enough.  Just the way I am.

I love that woman who runs that relationship site I frequent.  There she was studying to be a lawyer and every sickness plagued her body.  Every illness and virus, probably bent over the toilet for every exam.  For every test and exam came with pain and suffering.  It was like her body was rejecting becoming a lawyer, although it was the thing her family wanted.  She tried to please them, she tried to be enough that way.  Like most of us she grew up on the pain of equal rights for women, and it was hard.  She wasn't being herself, she wasn't happy.  She was spending the time she had her on earth pleasing others.  And it wasn't working.

She decided to live life the way she wanted and thank God she did because in the end, she was the only one who could reach me.  I found barriers to understanding everywhere I went.  I even tried to study the teachings of Anthony Robbins, and still no go.  She actually uses some of his teachings. She has managed to break everything down into bite size pieces that I'm able to understand.  And not just me, she has a huge following.  Massive career women even, six figure salary women, all saying that they are lonely, they are scared, want children, want marriage, want the white picket fence.

There is a certain danger we all face as ACON's.  I mean to go out there into the dating world.  This feeling that we are lesser than, and how we compensate for it.  Yes, I do feel it is a danger.  Does it not make sense that our flaws can bring the most evil men around looking for something to feed on?

Why do men want the high value woman only?  Because it is in his genetics, he can't help it.  But here is the trick, the high value woman is defined by her state of mind.

If I were to start dating again, I actually think it would be fun.  I could enjoy the whole process this time.  Sometimes, its a habit to look back and see how we can correct the mistakes of the past.  But all I can do is write about it.  This is fun for me, to get to talk about it.  There are sad posts, and sometimes there are really happy posts.  I feel all this positive energy talking about this.

I think what I'm trying to say that we need to accept the broken parts, embrace them, correct things if you can, but treat it as normal.  Then go out into the dating world.  Even if you are attractive and in good shape, hey, he might see you as a beautiful piece of trash.  His genetics won't see past the "flaws" if you don't.  He sees what you project.  If you are broken down and trying to find the right man for your life, it will be horrible.

For one thing, embracing all your bad and good parts will protect you. It is your protection in the dating world.  But if you see yourself as damaged goods, that's how you'll be seen by others.  Good men don't want damaged goods, it is designed in their genetics to choose the best.  And the narcissistic man will only see the chance to abuse you.  There is a hole in your armour that disappears the moment you choose to accept the parts of yourself that you hate.  So remember that.  That is the important and key feature here.  If you are not loving those bad parts,  you will find a creep who will use them to destroy you.

I once knew this girl online that was born with only one arm.  She was a beautiful girl.  She said she could change a tire on a car, can load a rifle, go hunting.  She kept a beautiful french manicure on the one hand, worked out at the gym, she was strong in the way I could tell by the way she talked to people.  She was all that and a case of rum, all the while being disabled.  I saw her pictures, it was like a glamour goddess with one arm.

I got the feeling she embraced her missing arm with a great deal of dignity.  You say she had no other choice?  Sure, she did.  She could have worn baggy clothes to cover her shoulder, stayed at home, never wore makeup.  And why even bother with the fancy manicure?  I mean really.  But it made a statement about who she is.

We need to figure out what is normal.  To learn to accept that being normal is relative.  I can be normal.  I know I have to fix things that are harmful, I have a few fleas, but overall, there is no one like me.  I'm irreplaceable, unique person, that can be loved for who I am.  Quirks and all.

If there is one thing I can change while looking back on my life, other than my mother being a freak. I mean the one thing I could have changed, it would have been never to go to therapy.  It's not that they don't know much about this (they don't) but I should have spent my time doing the things I loved. But no, I had to spend my time and my life correcting myself.  My last ex-husband wanted me at a job working.  And I couldn't work much, so I went to counselling.  I spent a lot of time trying to be enough and I never was enough. And all I wanted to do was enjoy my time here.  Time is so limited, we can't spend it trying to please, or correct things, life must be lived.

But I'm not saying therapy isn't for everyone.  But there are certain things we need to accept and embrace regardless.  If we can do that well, just like the girl in the story, we can actually transform ourselves from low value to high value.  She was high value, and you better believe it.  She would make you believe it.  It is my belief that these things don't matter all that much.

I'm not saying to go out on a date and make an announcement that you are an ACON.  But you are not going to go out on your date, trying to cover something he might see.  You can be open, vulnerable, caring. Just get out of your head and into your feelings, where you can explore this guy out well.  See who he is.  He may not even be worth worrying so much about.  Then you can be on to the next.

It is my belief that if you can do these things, you will find the best soul mate there is.  He can eventually see your disability and he will treat it with the utmost respect and be your hero.

For me this is normal.

So I guess the trick is to find the balance when you start out dating.  Of course, we don't want to disclose everything that's deeply personal and we want to hide the things we don't like about ourselves.  But what about the parts of ourselves we hate but have embraced anyway?  I try to look at it this way.  To try to find the balance where I'm not creating superficial relationships.  If all he sees is that I'm attractive and make a lot of money, that I'm perfect, why would I need him for?  How does this make him feel about himself?  Feminism has taught us that we need to be all that, or we don't stand a chance.  But reality tells me that a real man needs to be needed.  I imagine all those hunter and gatherer cultures, where the man would be the big man when he speared the woolly mammoth and took it back home.  Just the fact that he was needed to do so made him feel really good.  Its how we make him feel about himself, not how gorgeous or how well we can take care of ourselves.

Among my studies about relationships, one key thing kept popping up.  Men are not falling in love with beautiful perfect women.  No not at all.  She might be beautiful but she is not perfect and no one is perfect.  The difference is in embracing or not embracing the "bad stuff".  Hey, if you make it ok, it will be seen as ok.  It is not a job interview, you are trying to find love.  And love is in the imperfections.  He is looking for a problem to solve, someone to fit that part of his life.  Afterall, there are no more woolly mammoths to make him feel good about himself, to make him feel like the big hero, thousands of years hardwiring there.  So much hardwiring, in fact that feminism can't take it away.  He needs this and all I want at the end of the day is to be loved and cared for, not to be perfect, or project perfection. At the end of the day I want to breathe in my imperfections and have them loved too.  This is why hero movies have the biggest audiences.  But, in order to have the hero, we must be willing to be open for it.

Is it really all that bad?  These imperfections?  Maybe they are.  I have no doubt that ACON's have serious mental health issues.  Can we embrace schizophrenia or bipolar disorder?  Or other serious health issues?  I think we can.  Let's admit, we are all a little older, and most people our age carries some flaws anyway.   That is just a matter of fact.  And the fact that you might have a serious mental health issue is a matter of fact.  I may never change, it is just the way it is.  So sure, why not embrace them, embrace life at its fullest.  You have good parts too.  It is all a package.  As for me, I know I don't feel that well, my thoughts are screwed up, but that's ok too.

And, really this is just my opinion here, but it seems rational.  Sex seems to be all over the place. Placing women as well as men as "needing to get laid".  Historically, I believe that sex wasn't that easy for men to get.  And I believe women were not all that keen on it, if he couldn't protect and provide.  Men had to risk their lives to get sex.  In other words, to hunt.  To beat out that other men, and be competitive and to win.  So it makes perfect sense to me that he will be looking for something that would be worth his while.  To make him feel good.  Even nowadays, he needs to fit the bill.  He needs a place to feel successful.  This is survival, this is not frivolous.

So, overall, if you see parts of yourself that you just despise, learn to embrace them.  In a way they really are survival mechanisms that kept you alive.  That makes you high value.

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

The Truth About Neediness

I get the feeling that a lot of people don't know what I mean when I talk about neediness.  In relationships or whatever.  In its truest and most valuable sense, it is very good.  But there is another meaning, that I'll get to in a little bit.

I am committed to writing when something comes to my mind these days, afterall this is a journal.

Just this morning, my husband was online paying the bills.  The phone bill was rather high, so he looked back and figured out he forgot to pay it last month.  So he paid it all.  No big deal.  I watched this all go on before my eyes, and a memory came to light.

You know, I'm glad he has this ability, I cannot.  I can't pay bills, or even look at a bank statement, or even open a mailbox, he has taken over this.  God help me if I become a widow and am forced back to go through this.  As of now, I really don't care at all.

I don't need to fix this, do I?  The pain and the fear would be overwhelming for me, if I am to try. But I do remember I used to do these things and do them very well.  Before mother came back into my life about 15 years ago.  Before that, I managed bills.  I had somethings haunting me, sure I couldn't work, I had little money, but I managed and budgeted and got by.  After mother, I could have 10 thousand dollars in the bank, and not even know it, and all the utilities would be shut off, for lack of payment.

I had managed to get a really good job sometimes, and even then, I was terrified of money, or anything to do with money.  But before mother, I managed.  So what happened?

Well, as I was watching him pay the bills, he made a mistake.  "Oh," is all he said.

Although, mother couldn't read a word, she could read my bills and would harass me over a bill that was do in a week.

She said, "You better pay it now."

"I'm busy now, the bill is due in a week, I'll get to it."  Was my response.

"You should pay it now, in case you forget."

"I won't forget."

Then she would be doing something else, but you know she wouldn't let it go.  "It's going to get cut off, you won't have any electricity, you'll live on the street, if you keep up the way you do.  You don't do anything right.  If you listen to me, you would be better off.  Why aren't you cleaning this apartment, you are too messy and dirty." etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, ......and on and on and on.....

I was making $40 an hour full time, I was single, my life was doing well.  This monster came back into my life after 20 years absent, I somehow was working towards healing, I had a level of healing, I had a good life.  Why oh why didn't I just put her out?  I'm serious.  Just throw her outside and never look back?

I don't think I need to explain anything more here, the rest is history.  My husband now takes care of me.  This is a valuable lesson in itself.

Getting back to what I mean about neediness.  Look, I know it is hard to understand.  Tainted versions over the last 50 years have made us stupid.  And we are not stupid.  But first I want to tell you a little about a hollowed out husk.

This is what a malignant narcissist leaves in its midst.  Lacking understanding of life the hollowed out husk is always afraid.  Afraid of life, afraid of everything.  But, the most important part is that she can't understand too much.  She will always work at trying, she is a normal person despite what has been done to her.  She still has the ability to know stuff, it is just a little harder to reach her is all.

So I went a little deeper into things.  I need history and science to prove things.  Because I just can't trust everything.  Although I trust others more than myself, I can't absorb things that well.  Oh well, I try.  And I have always been very curious.

Why was I getting into abusive relationships?  Well, it was the man, it wasn't me at all.  You do not cause the hitting or manipulation.  Get that straight, this is not caused by you, it is him.  And, yes, a good man will run from you if you can't understand what neediness is.  In absolute truth, neediness is a wonderful thing.  Helplessness is wonderful.  I love it when he pays bills, open jars, takes over things for me, when I don't want to do them.  That is called connection.

Neediness is blaming, using him as a scratching post, unwilling to be authentic.  Blaming is never authentic.  It comes from a very different place.  You are trying to extract his emotional resources just to make yourself feel better.

That is what the bad neediness is.  Extracting human emotions from others.  I'm hoping to get to write more about blaming.  It is such a vast subject though, and it took me six months to get through it.  Its kind of complicated and some people try to do the opposite of blaming, which is actually very bad too.  I had this friend once who told me that in marriage there should be little to no arguments.  Ok, lol, if I may tell you a little about authenticity, there will be arguments. There is no choice in that. Anything else is neediness, plain and simple.  If you are unwilling to be authentic with your partner, you are lying to him.  Even if it is a lie of omission.  Trying to save his feelings, lol, please you are trying to save yourself.  Because to me, anything outside of authenticity is a lie.  I would rather share my true emotions with him, like it or not.  Anything else is bullshit. And with this we have been doing so well, I can't even tell you.

So if I invited my mother back into my life now, what do you think would happen?  Just as a curiosity, has no point to the story.

To the hollowed out husk, things are never easy.  Afterall, she could never go out with friends and learn social skills, she had to stay close to mom, who needed an endless narcissistic supply.

But what's fascinating is that the hollowed out husk gets to look at things for the first time and learn them.  I think I got my feel this way, and I will continue to feel.

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Surviving the Bullies

I'm sitting here by the computer with the sun shining through the window, and I think this is the first day in about a month that I've been happy, and enjoying the springtime.  I'm off to quilting class tomorrow, I'm not sure what I'm doing yet as my projects have been laying still for a very long time. Today, I'm doing the laundry and hanging it outside to dry.  The smell of the laundry hanging outside is phenomenal, how I miss that, winter seemed to last forever.

I'm thinking of a lot of things, and how my life got to be what it is today.  I was not always able to enjoy the peace.  I still am amazed that I got through college and studied engineering and graduated from it, although I was bullied all the way through.  I took my whole class to the board at the college and they told me to let it go, and I did.  Still somehow I made it through.  I think it was by sheer determination that I got through.  I have always been bullied, and I have a hard time watching a movie where an innocent lands in jail and watch them get tormented.  I see myself.

So yeah, my college told me to let go and not listen to the bullies and they refused to do anything about it.  And actually, they made it all my fault.

And when I got to be with my present husband, the bullies here tried to do me in too.  But I talked about that previously, and I won.  I won that battle, but now I feel sorry for my husband because it looks like he lost all his friends here.  I told him we can make new friends in town.

It is weird how these narcs out here in the bush got to use him for plowing the roads, and he let it happen.  He is not that way at all, no one gets to him.  Not even his own daughter.  He loves her, but he is willing to walk away from her, it might be necessary.  I have the feeling she is controlled by a narc, her mother.  I even had to watch what I say around her, and I refuse to do that anymore.

I'm getting a posting ready on relationships and it had me thinking how far I've come with that.  It used to be easy to be needy, and seemed so necessary, that I did it all the time.  It seemed normal. Afterall, my own mother did it with her boyfriend.  She followed his rules, and he had such rules that you could tell he was a sociopath right away.  But so was she.  But at that time she became a needy narc, needing him to pay the bills, so she did what she was told.

I wouldn't last five minutes doing that with my husband.  Any neediness on my part sends him straight out the door.  To do something that makes him feel safe, as he wouldn't feel safe with me. And if I just wanted him to pay bills, and tried all the methods of pleasing in order to get it, he would sense that right away.  Actually, that's what the neighbours here tried to set me up for.  They told him that I was using him.

Recently, I wanted to reread an article posted up on my relationship site, that I couldn't find anymore. I sent her a message, and she sent me the article right away, and said one of her favorite things to do was to reread important articles.  I felt so validated.  At one time, I would not have done that, I would have just let it go.  I let most things go, like I did with my college and the bullies.  I don't do that anymore.

I've chosen to eradicate neediness in my life, even if it feels bad, I do it anyway.  Life is about learning these things.  And I'm thinking that if I was in contact with mother, it would be impossible to be anything but needy.  She would be ordering me to be needy.  She did that with her boyfriend, but I don't blame her, she has got to eat, and that is how she did it.  She ate for twenty years by being needy.

Oh, I know neediness has a very different definition in society.  It is the opposite actually.  But I learned the truth.  And it feels so good these days to be giving.  

I know I still have things still missing inside me.  That might be permanent.  Maybe, I'm not aware of them, but that is a blessing.  I don't want to be aware of what's missing inside me.  I'm able to do what I have to on what I've got.  I can enjoy the springtime, but I think my favorite season is fall.  The colors here are just explosive.

I'm also enjoying this French Roast Coffee that I make right here at home.  Good thing it's decaffeinated, or I'd be flying off the walls.  The stuff is just so good.  I am now on my third cup.  I enjoy quilting, but then why am I procrastinating on it?  I might get to it later on today, but I'm doing the laundry, writing, then later I'm going to be making some meatballs.  How come I never get bored? Oh, also I need to vaccuum the mat by the door, strange how spring brings the mud in.

I still volunteer, and I have some food bank items from the church here at home that I need to bring soon.  Too much to do.  The rules of feminism say I should have a job, but I don't know how I would fit that into my life. lol

Actually, that is what I wanted to get to.  That is why I'm posting today.  The work world is full of sharks, and I have no teeth and claws.  While I can do the work, my anxiety is just too much to bear. Feminism never protected me from that.  Feminism threw me in with the sharks, and never cared if I was prepared to go out in the world.  I would have loved to work in my field of engineering, and I did, but I kept getting fired over my anxiety.  Something that seems illegal, but it is happening here, no doubt about it.  The employers cover their butts so well.

I'm happy to have the life I have now, and would have chosen it eventually.  But I've taken things down to a scientific level here at home.  Everything has to be cooked to precision, I time everything and extrapolate this and that.  Hard to explain.

But how would I have survived out in the real world?  Maybe this needs to get out in the world right now.  How would I have survived?  Does anyone know?  

Sunday, April 12, 2015

The Self Redefined

Is there an emotion or feeling that you had and just can't describe?  I've been feeling that way lately. I thought it was guilt, but I don't think it is.  I think it has more to do with feeling badly for feeling free.

It's funny that some people are just too entitled.  I feel lack of entitlement, like I don't deserve anything but to be miserable.  It is my lot in life.  Can you even imagine how hard it is to get my needs met this way?  If I am not even supposed to exist.  Oh, I'm allowed to exist as a body, but that is it.  In no way was I entitled happiness or just to be sad for no reason.  I always had my feelings and thoughts defined for me by mother.

Suppose I did have contact with mother.  She would walk in here with a blast of energy and I would be forced to take on that energy.  Anything else about me, well, too bad.  I remember now I would always look at mother's eyes for my existence.  In them I would know what to say or how to act.

First off she would walk in here looking for a way to humiliate me.  Like I can't do anything properly. Here't the thing about my engulfing mother.   Nothing I could do or ever do would have achieved peace with her.  There was no peace in her.  If she couldn't find something to bitch at me for the rages would start.  So essentially it is better for me to be less in order for her to feed.  It is not good to go to that place of having nothing to feed this monster.

Lately, I've been allowing myself to come up with a new self.  There is a work to be done here, lets get it out in the open.

I've said before that mother doesn't exist.  Well, what I mean is the idea that there is a mother.  This creature was only a feeder of emotions.  It couldn't nor ever would have been my mother.  It is a harrowing fact that I never had a mother.  Those parts that gave birth to me, well, that is all they did. It gave me life and that life was the property of her.

So now stepping out of that sense of "belonging to mother" feels rather naked.  The person that I was to be never came to pass, and now that it has, its very despised.  I feel despised at times.  Only because mother said I was so I could move myself over to allow her engulfing.

What I'm working on now is to despise myself no more.  I think the only way I can do that is to entirely evict the evil presence of mother.  No contact was just the first step.  I wrote a posting a while back called, Attachment  I don't think I knew what the heck I was talking about in that posting. Not really.  I had a sense of what I was saying.

I'm not saying that I still love my mother.  No, not at all.  But just today I felt this sense of being despised.  Here I was going to church on the very first real spring day we had.  I couldn't even step out of the truck, I was so afraid.  If I would have stepped out I could have taken some cool pictures of streams running and maybe some growth in the bushes.  But I didn't.  I stayed close to safety.  Last week I saw an otter too.  Things are coming to life and here I was all terrified, closed up with fear.

Fear is sort of unrealistic for me these days.  As much as I tell myself there is nothing at all for me to be afraid of (and there isn't) I still feel it, not just lingering, but as a deep grief that I'm doing something wrong.  I'm leaving mother behind.  I'm never talking to her anymore.  Not that I'm grieving that, but I still maybe I feel guilty.  And guilty is very unrealistic in my life right now too.

Last weekend, my husband got into a huge fight with his daughter.  The three of us were in the sitting room here and he fell asleep.  He tends to fall asleep when he is not doing anything.  I commented on this to her and I told her that sometimes I would like to get a water pistol and spray him.  We both laughed.  I turned my head and closed my eyes as she walked into the kitchen.  Then she poured a huge glass of water over his head.

He exploded at her.  I tried unsuccessfully to stop the fight.  I gave up and went outside for some fresh air.  Less than 2 minutes later he was outside.  I didn't know what to say to him, and he just looked at me.  I told him it was my fault and I mentioned the water pistol story I told her, he just looked at me.  He said she is leaving, that she is packing up and going back home.  Her visit was over early.

This all started from something that I said.

But think about it for a moment.  To me, shooting him while he was fast asleep would be outrageous. I would never do it, I just talked about it, never would I do it.  It would be even more horrible to have water dumped on your head!

How could she have easily have done that is beyond me.  But maybe not.  She was easily suggested to do it, I think.

Not long after her mother called here, wanting to know what happened because her daughter came to her crying.  I said they would work it out.  Just be there for her, but they'll work it out.  Then I hang up the phone.  I was so glad he didn't pick up the phone or he would have fought with her too.  I still think it was brazen of her to call here.

That family does exactly what they are told.  She needs her brakes changed on her car.  She told her father he was changing the brakes on her car.  She didn't ask, it was a form of asking.  He also has this type of "equal" relationship with his daughter.  It's like they are friends.  She crosses boundaries with me even.  She kind of puts me down in order to make me feel like I'm "in" with them.  For instance, she smacks me on the shoulder as a game.  I don't see my kids hitting me, I'm very against hitting.  I do not put up with hitting and I told my husband that too.  He says he doesn't understand it either.

His daughter grew up split between two households.  His home, when he was married to someone else at the time, and her mother.  Her mother was married four times, he was married to someone else, who was controlling.

So when I suggested shooting him with a water pistol, she doused him!  I think she is under the control of a narcissist.  No boundaries even, and full of fleas.

Because when I'm with her talking one on one, our conversations are so nice and normal.  And this I believe is her true authentic self.  Where she can let her guard down and feel safe.

Around her father, she is rather nervous and scared even.  She has even said that the way he talks to me is like no one else.  I told her to just relax and be yourself.  And my rule is please and thank you. I never walk on eggshells around him, but she either blasts him or walks on eggshells.  And she gets under his skin that way.  She does things that are way out of bounds, and I can't seem to get him to understand that she doesn't mean too.  He has completely lost patience with her.

He has this reputation of being this really tough guy.  In fact, he straightened out one crew at work, and now his boss has given him a new crew.  He doesn't get it, but I do.  They are finding him so efficient at work, and keeps the teams doing their job.  I'm sure he's fair to the guys at work, but he can't be crossed, that simple.

I just can't get him to get along with his daughter, as she crosses boundaries, and all it does is piss him off to the point where he can't see past that anger into understanding.  I never have issues with him.  I'm very free to be vulnerable and authentic with him.  I'm ok with him because I never cross boundaries, I guess. Well, maybe, sometimes, but it can be overlooked when I don't do it all the time. But I guess for some families, crossing boundaries is a sense of belonging to them.  Not for me.

So yeah, I'm kinda stuck.

But back to the water throwing.  I felt so guilty.  Thinking it was all my fault, and I told him this, he never said anything.  But I saw something else brewing.  She is constantly asking him for money. He helped her out once out of a financial issue, but since she has been getting many tattoos, he has never given her money again.  I told him once, "Well, why not just buy or pay for what she needs?"  He said no, because he said even that would allow her too much freedom to blow money on tattoos and other frivolities.  She has money, she just finds other priorities, and expects him to pick up the slack. I have seen it.  She is never going to get supported by her father, he is not like that.  Besides, she never asks, just says, "Oh, you have to give me some money, the kids are starving." And she sort of cases the place looking for things that cost money, like a freezer full. She says, "I can't afford that, must be nice."  Even my level of comfort is at a crisis.

Oh well, I digress.  But this is just a little too much for a survivor of child abuse, I must say.  This fighting, arguing.  It has got to stop, I told him this.  If this was my bio child I would have told her to stop, this is none of her business and that would be that.  But I can't do that, I told him to do that.  He just looks at me pensively, that's all.

But getting back to finding my identity after being engulfed by mother.  This is not easy.  This attachment is taking over my day.  I couldn't even enjoy a happy spring day and just step out of the truck and take pictures.  I was so lost in fear.  I still feel mother blaming me, humiliating me, telling me right now that my whole house is in crisis.  "Look what you done."  She would say regarding the water episode.  And, "Look what your aunt said to you, you are a horrible person".

Its too easy to feel blamed.  I could overlook a beautiful day and see the dark clouds moving in all the time!  I can't step out of this fear of mother tormenting me.  That's what I get when I feel.  I still remember being a little child playing happily on the swing, then the next second sitting on the ground feeling terrible about myself.  I still have holes in my memory.  I still can't place this blame entirely on mother's shoulders.  She was the adult, she was the one who should have protected me from blame.

Can I yell back at mother?  Can I scream at her?  There seems to be this barrier that I can't cross yet, and no contact was only the beginning.  The rest of the way would be removing this out of my way and saying that mother was no good, nothing good ever came out her mouth, so stop listening to her. And feel that feeling down into my emotions.  It is time to end this.  My existence is my own.  And my existence is not despised.

Wednesday, April 8, 2015

Depression is a Trap

I got out last week and went to a bible study group.  I wanted to pray for my oldest daughter who is suffering with hyper mobility.  But the narc in my group that I told you about in this posting, Social Skills a few paragraphs down, decided to give me a good bullying session instead.

Well here goes.  I was mentioning that my daughter is suffering from hyper mobility that will bring her pain, and that narc said, "Well, how would you feel if you were so and so.  She has no diagnosis for her illness and that is just the way it is.  You should be happy you have a diagnosis."

Um, I should be happy?

I have been having some depression lately.  I didn't mean to cower to her.  But there were 10 people in the group and it was exactly as how I predicted.  No one helped me out.  No one validated me.  She went on for awhile really putting me in my place.  I was cut off in mid sentence talking about my daughter, and then she started talking and all eyes were all on her.  I eventually got my request in, but I must say I was ticked right off!  I literally had pounding in my ears.

I don't know if its the depression because if I could relive that incident, I would have piped right up and say, "What does so and so have to do with me?  Is not my issue just as important?"  I would love to go back and experiment with that.  Oh, I want to!

But the moment has past.  We can't take back what is gone.

I also wanted to pray for people I talk to online who are going through some very tough trials.  On Sunday at church, the lesson was about complaining and that we shouldn't be complaining.  Now, I understand that there are some people who complain all the time (namely narcs).  But some people have very tough circumstances in life and I just want to know how to talk in those cases.  In case I put my foot in my mouth and say something wrong.

So I mentioned that at the bible study.  And that narc lady piped up again.  She gave me the advice.  I think she was trying to cover for the earlier incident.  Doesn't matter.  Some of the others helped me out with this. And they actually were willing to forgo the bible reading to talk about this.   I said that was great because I don't want some pie in the sky type of Christianity.  I am also tired of saying that God is using circumstances in your life.  It doesn't help anyone.

But it was hard for others to speak while this "lady" was talking.  I wish the elders would take her aside and give her a good talking to.  I felt invalidated, because my daughter was lesser?  Than so and so?  Because so and so was more important?  And everyone chose to ignore her instead of telling her to shut up?  I would have told her to shut up if I was in my right mind.

Now isn't that just like a narc to make you feel that way?

Isn't it like depression to make you feel that way?

Reality was she was being an idiot.  And she couldn't get to me until now.

Here's the thing, although I got out the thing I wanted to say, I felt angry, hurt and even more depressed.  And, I had thought I got myself out of the approval seeking toilet months ago.  Even though I've grown and learned a few things, this will be a daily battle for the rest of my life.

It was the worst thing that happened to me since my awakening.  Talking to my flying monkey aunt, who I approached first because she didn't recognize me, tried to get her to talk to me.  Weeks went by before I felt upset.  It is important to not block pain, because it will come and bite you in the butt sooner or later!  And it grows out of proportion.

And the pain was valid, she was being a stupid flying monkey denying me the right to be in no contact.  Telling me I was wrong, warning me that I will be so sorry for treating my "poor mom" like this.  So I had every right to feel hurt, I did.  But I blocked it.  I didn't want to hurt anymore.  But hurting is part of living, isn't it?  Why oh why can't the universe cave on this one?

I even thought it was cool how my stats skyrocketed since I've been blogging so much since I felt depressed.  More approval seeking.  It was never my intention to get this really cool blog and have tons of attention.  No way.  Of course I want this to reach people who need it and for others too, but I got caught up in the fame.  This is the wrong goal.  Of course, I do understand that a big blog has tremendous value, and would never say lets all just have tiny blogs.  Actually, I don't care if I do have a big blog, but not for approval seeking.

Approval seeking is a drug, that once you get it, it is gone, and you will need more and more.

So I made a commitment tonight to not be looking for approval ever.  I'm even watching what I say at home and not looking for cool things to say.  I'm just going to be me.  But I almost got to the point of defending myself here at home, and then I stopped myself and chose rather not to say anything.  Yes, lately, every thing I say is either a defense or cool or needy.  So I have to stop myself and give myself a break from that roller coaster.

I will say what I want to and not try to please.

Another problem connected to that.  I came from a small town.  Last names are definitive of where you come from around here.  My husband is now working with a husband of a woman I went to high school with.  He is bringing in the yearbook.  He began teasing me last night.  I don't take very well to teasing.  He doesn't understand this.  I wasn't much in high school.  I was weird and probably my pictures show that.  I couldn't sit right or smile right, and I feel horrible about this.  And I have enormous pride.

I went on, "How dare you."  He immediately changed the subject.  But I feel horrible.

Why do these two grown up men want to do this to me?  He also said we are to pop in to visit them sometime.  Does his wife know who I am?  In my mind I'm immediately transported back to high school.  I wasn't a pretty girl.  I looked like I could barely comb my hair.  I probably didn't brush my teeth even, and I probably smiled the biggest smile, not understanding much.

But I grew up the scapegoat of a narc pig, what else did I know.  Not much.

But look.  I have this new vision of the whole thing.  I learned so much, but that meeting with that stupid flying monkey aunt threw me back into yesteryear.  In which I still get attacked by narcs, and I still feel like that helpless child.  But I know better.

Ok, a new reality check here.  I didn't do anything wrong here.  I did what I had to do.  What's amazing is that a new lesson is coming forth.  I'm doing myself a favor here and I'm going to take all of this hurtful stuff and I'm going to tether it to reality.

Reality tells me this:

Love is a word I need to relearn sober.
No is a word I need to relearn sober.
Me is a word I need to relearn sober.

The abuser and its followers has stolen these words.  It is the struggle in my mind to separate fantasy from reality.

I mean so what if this woman I knew from high school recognizes me as a weird girl.  Oh well, I can't do anything about that.  So I just feel all the pain with that.  It doesn't matter that is was a very long time ago.   The feeling persists.

Its ok to be an amateur at this.  This is a life long progress.  So I feel vulnerable, humiliated.  Scared. But isn't that what mother always wanted me to feel?  To always be humiliated, and its happening again.  I know, I know, I'm all grown up and very youthful for my age.  Healthy and strong.  Perhaps I could give this old high school girl a run for it.  But it doesn't matter, its my feelings and my feelings say humiliated.  Besides, I don't care about looks, this is a trap I'm falling into.  I don't want to let superficiality take over.  But is is going to if I don't get this under control.  I'll start behaving in ways that are not me, but the result of defense mechanisms.  There is no need for me to defend myself.

Another thought comes to mind.  Perhaps God is doing a work here in helping my husband understand me.  That the vulnerability is good, and it has a job to do and just feel my way through it. My husband doesn't understand me enough, he just wants to live life, and is sometimes dumbfounded by my behaviours.  So maybe now we will come to a new understanding.  Sometimes we just have to trust that pain is process and not the end result.  A good mommy would have told me that.

Thursday, April 2, 2015

The Perfect Child

I'm concerned over my youngest daughter's family.  She has this new baby, and I'm just constantly seeing she is posting pictures of him calling him the most perfect offspring.  "Look at my perfect offspring".  Not is not a word I would ever have used for a child.  And yes he is perfect, a real showcase for sure.

I'm scared.  You know narcs take things from us.  All the good stuff.  They swallow it up.  And so much of my daughter is so crazy about this baby boy, that I'm afraid she might be engulfing.  Now, I know that God is doing a work in her life, she was raised in church, I brought her up that way.  I believe that is safeguarding the baby.  I'm also now on facebook to keep an eye on things, but its depressing me.  She has video's of him, pictures of him, she is taking all this perfect stuff he is and claiming it to herself.

But she shares joint custody with the dad.  And one time she called me crying, she wanted full custody, and she was crying because she missed the baby.  Now, I know what it is like to be a single parent, and would have loved the opportunity to have a break like she does, but she is not loving it. She seems to hate her life without that baby in her arms.

And now the father is keeping the baby up all day so he will sleep at night and she is posting that this makes him a lousy father.  She even wrote, "Who cares if I get my sleep, he needs his sleep, that is all that counts."

Now I know the rules about engulfing, the perfect mother sacrifices and lets all the world know.

Now I get the feeling it is important for me to not get to upset but just follow her around on facebook, and make comments where appropriate, to maintain boundaries.  That I've been trying to do.  I'm making sure she doesn't try to block me, but I'm getting a little peeved.

This perfect baby, if he does something wrong will she make him pay?  If he doesn't fulfill the bounds of continuing to be the perfect child will she somehow demoralize him and call him lousy? Will she make him feel bad for not keeping up with her demands?

So much of this is out of my power its terrifying me.  And sometimes I just feel so guilty for the mess.  Feeling guilty about it will not do me any good.  Getting depressed about it won't do me any good.  And even if I try to hide about this, it won't go away.  I will not go into a state of denial.  I've done some reading on this, and so far, from what I can tell, he is safe until he is around three years old.

This life of mine has never been easy.  This is so much out of my control, I have to take the things that are in my control.  And I am determined that ACON's will no longer have to live till a ripe old age before learning of the affects of this.  I've already educated the other family members of this, and they have agreed, their sister is a narcissist.  No one is going to be an Aunt Denial.  Or Uncle Denial. We are all in on this.   We hold to to account, and so far it seems to be holding.

My daughter was diagnosed with narcissism some time ago.  She herself was the perfect child. Always loving and sweet.  At the age of two she could hold a tiny hamster in her hand, and pet it. She could wear a dress all day and never get it dirty.  Or the shoes scuffed.  She wore ribbons in her hair, she insisted.

At the age of three she yelled at the secretary in a doctor's office for not having children's books she liked.  She wanted the light switches lowered, because, "I'm too little to reach them, they are not for children."  I told her that children were not to use the light switches, and she told me something like I was being discriminatory.

I could go on and on.  This was the perfect child.  She makes me think of that movie that came out in the 50's called "The Bad Seed".  But my daughter didn't commit murder.  I also don't believe narcs are born that way, like they have no other choice.  They would have made the decision.

We were very close.  So unlike her older sister who would wreck her clothes and probably would have strangled the hamster.  So now I'm scared.

But my youngest is still rather perfect, she doesn't smoke pot, never has, and insists it is wrong to do so.  She does not want to drink.  She doesn't even like to go party.  She will ramble on about right and wrong.  She talks of her child constantly. She seems like the perfect mother.  I now wish she was a little less perfect.