The one an only copy of my mother’s will is gone.
Written in 1982…..
The one an only copy of my mother’s will is gone.
Written in 1982…..
Today I was going through my laptop trying to clean out some garbage and some bad memories….pictures, notes, stuff I no longer wish to see.
I found this letter to the Narc – from 2012. Oh how I wish I had known more about these sub-humans at the time. I could have saved many years. Bear in mind, this is not the first time I wrote Narc. There had been many times before, with much the same content.
I only managed to gather myself enough to leave just over a month ago. 10 Years is a long time to live in denial, and live without knowing on a conscious level that I just wasn’t loved.
And here it is…………..
We have somehow never managed to hone our communication skills. However, I need you to know how I feel.
I am so hurt and feel betrayed by all that happened on Monday. You have been acting like nothing happened, but that is not going to fix it. You may deny what I say, you may aggressively dismiss what I try to say, but dancing around the truth is doing far more damage than trying to move forward and sweep this under the rug.
First – I am mortified that you have a phone number that you choose to hide and keep secret from me. Don’t bother trying to deny it. I’m not sure what to think about that. What would you think?
Second – if there is nothing to hide, why haven’t you mentioned that you have kept XXXX updated with your new numbers? Why is this ongoing relationship with her and her mother such a private thing between you guys? If you were me, you would wonder too. It’s dishonest. Where is the trust? I feel like you have 2 lives…..and you only share one with me. And quite possibly, everyone knows except me.
Third – on Monday you knew I was driving home in the rain and the dark. You said “stop at XXXX”, I said “no I want to come home”. What do you do? You go to the pub (which was the last place you thought I would go) and become unavailable on your phone. What was that all about? That hurt me. I want to believe that you care enough to worry even a little about me sometimes. You knew I was on my way home. You purposefully tried to disappear.
Fourth – I am not a punching bag. You promised me that you would never raise your hands to me in anger again. I feel like this may never stop. I feel humiliated and ashamed when you beat me. I do not deserve to feel this way. No woman does. I will not accept this any longer.
So, you can choose to ignore this letter and try to carry on like nothing is wrong. Or you can step up and do right by me. You can tell me about the things that are worrying me. I am sitting in a space where I am questioning our whole relationship. Is it as real for you as it is for me? Or am I living in a little bubble of “happy ever after” that possibly may never be?
I’m hurt, confused and angry.
Please don’t disregard how i feel as unimportant.
NO – THINGS DON’T CHANGE. EVER. THEY JUST GET WORSE.
Reblogging – such a good post.
The effects of psychological and narcissistic abuse come with many devastating consequences, but there are two that almost no one knows about–unless they’re a doctor or neuroscientist.
In fact, these two outcomes may be the most destructive result of emotional trauma over the long-term and is an added reason why–if you have children with a narcissistic partner–you should try to leave as soon as reasonably possible.
By now, most of us know that repeated emotional trauma leads to both PTSD and C-PTSD, which should be reason enough to leave an abusive partner. But, what many people don’t realize is that over time, these repeated emotional injuries shrink the hippocampus, which is responsible for memory and learning, while enlarging the amygdala, which houses primitive emotions such as fear, grief, guilt, envy, and shame.
The hippocampus, which is Greek for “seahorse,” is a paired structure tucked inside each temporal lobe and…
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Tears. I had them today. I know they finally had to come….I’ve been so absent from my life. You know? Neither here nor there. Not high, not low.
But today……the dam broke.
I interviewed a lady to come and do domestic work for someone I know. It’s hard work, big house, live-in position…..she has to leave her family behind (2 daughters)….live alone on this big new property.
The lady, let’s call her H…..H was very keen, wants to start on Monday. Today is Saturday. She’s willing to move in tomorrow.
Tomorrow? That’s good. Right? Really? This lady H, who is 33 years old, is willing to pack all her belongings by tomorrow….bed, blankets, kitchenware, clothing, STUFF…..pack in one day and move here….move onto a new property, in the sticks….no friends, no family, just sommer move. In one day.
And I cried.
I cried because even though she said this is what she wants, what she’s prepared to do for employment….I KNOW the trauma of moving in one day….the uncertainty and angst with unknown changes…the loneliness (that is, and what will come)…..
I cried for H. I cried for me.
I have had better days than this one.
What an awesome little book. Takes less than an hour to read….a couple of reads to digest. I have read it twice in the last few days.
Who am I, in the book? And why didn’t I take good care of my Cheese. What was my Cheese? Do I have the courage to change direction….and the belief that my new and improved stock of Cheese is out there, waiting for me, in the scary Maze that is life?
What’s the Cheese? It’s what you want, what you cherish, what you have and how close you hold it to your heart. * THE MORE IMPORTANT YOUR CHEESE IS TO YOU, THE MORE YOU WANT TO HOLD ON TO IT. And defying all sense of self preservation, sometimes the Cheese is mouldy, old, decaying…we choose not to see this, we soldier on. Despite all odds….the Cheese isn’t supposed to move, is it?
Sometimes we are lucky. Sometimes we recognise the destructive pattern of looking after and hanging on to “old cheese”. Sometimes we realise that * IF YOU DO NOT CHANGE, YOU CAN BECOME EXTINCT. Yip, lose your self worth, your identity, your entire being. Change is necessary. Change is hard.
If we are able to recognise our own fear, our lack of faith, and ask ourselves * WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOU WEREN’T AFRAID, we may recognise that our fears paralyse us….and are mostly unfounded.
When I decided to leave the Narc, that’s when my FEAR gripped my heart with a force that scared me more than the Narc-Fear itself. It was frightening and took on a physical life inside of me.
I moved out with lead feet. Like a robot. I put one foot in front of the other dogmatically…..willing myself to see this through. It wasn’t strength that spurred me on, it was some forgotten instinct of self preservation that kicked in. I was in terrible trouble. My body took over, my spirit had to follow…..
* SMELL THE CHEESE OFTEN, SO YOU KNOW WHEN IT’S GETTING OLD. Ears and eyes wide open….nobody will serve me old and mouldy Cheese again. My Cheese, my Choice, my Life.
Great little book. Perhaps I will read it again tomorrow 🙂
* Quotes from this wonderful little book (used without permission, forgive me please Dr Spencer Johnson – you’re an awesome author).
I wish this for me, for you, for anyone going through tough times, anyone coming out of bad relationships, thinking of coming out….healing after a break up….this is for us.
I WILL SAY THIS ONE DAY WITH CONVICTION…..WE ALL WILL.
As I say goodbye to 2015, and the last 10 years of my life, I would like to let go of some bad memories as well. Perhaps, exposed here, they will stop haunting and hurting me.
I don’t understand “triggers”, and these memories are very personal – I don’t expect anyone to read them. I need to vomit them out into the open though…so….
AN EASTER EXPERIENCE : 2012 – probably the worst beating I got while involved with the Narc. His friend came to stay at the lodge (part of the farm), and I will never know if this “fight” was an excuse to stay away for a week, or if he was so damn drunk the whole time that he blacked out….whatever….he went nuts. He had me in a strangle hold around my neck and was head butting me….over and over and over. I don’t know what would have happened if my mother hadn’t walked in and yelled at him to stop. I was concussed, in bed for a week. My eye swelled up and I had to go to the doctor twice to have my eye lid cut open to release the pressure. This is the only time that I asked a doctor to write a report on my injuries. I never did anything with that report.
OUR HAPPILY EVER AFTER HOME : I found the farm at a fantastic price. We went to sign papers. We. Because, as he said, it was our new home, our new start, our future. Yes he loved me, very much. He was prepared to put the whole farm in my name – did I want that? No…of course I didn’t want that. Signing together was good. Fantastic. My future with my love. We signed, we celebrated, we started to plan, life was good. It came out quite by accident a little later on that he had returned to the estate agent a few days after we signed the deal, and asked them to rip it up, and he signed a new offer to purchase in his name only. I can’t remember the final excuse he gave me for this, but I bought it. I had to. What choice did I have?
ONE OF MANY WARNINGS that he gave me, after being physically abusive, was that if I should never try to report him. He had smacked me around in front of staff and also his son in the past. He told me that those people were loyal only to him, and if I thought I could prove any abuse, I was just kidding myself. I’d seen him get 4 or 5 people to write falsified affidavits before. He submitted them in court (and yes, it was for a previous domestic abuse case with his Ex) – so ja, bit of a quandary that one. If nobody sees it, did it really happen?
Another kicker is my IRISH BLESSING – St Paddy’s Day weekend, 2013. I had 3 gigs to do that weekend with a band. Two weeks before the performances he hit me in the face with his steel crutch. Split my cheek open just below my eye. I spent rehearsals dabbing at the weeping wound, and gigging on stage hiding behind a mountain of makeup. Nobody said anything. I chose to believe that didn’t see. Really girl? Sigh….
NO PRIVACY : When my mother first came to live with us on the farm, she had lost her job and we had sold our little house. We didn’t make much money from the sale, but it was all she had. Narc managed to take over a third of it. Seemed to know when to ask and how much to push for. While the sale of the house was going through, he pestered us SO much to find out when payment would come through. His anxiety at getting the money through passed onto us. He offered to help with phone calls to push it through. We thought he was being caring. My mother never got any bank statements in the first 6 to 8 months or so. My bank statements came in the mail box….so no, not a postal error. How strange, we all said. I look back now. Strange? I think not. When she finally ran out of money, I guess the bank decided to start sending them to her again. And Narc decided to launch some very vicious verbal attacks on her from then on. It broke my heart.
MYSTERIOUSLY MISSING : Oh so many things, the list is as long as my arm. A digital camera, a pair of Raybans (twice), a laptop, a power supply, a Michel Herbelin watch, clothing, a handbag from Mexico, spare car keys, a book of song lyrics that I had gathered since the late 1990’s, a tambourine (found later burned and scattered in ashes strewn in the garden), a written list of all my cyber passwords including my bank accounts, tiny little seedlings that I tenderly nursed pulled up by the roots, a disabled doggy trolley, a big plastic box of arts and crafts….and surely many other things that I will remember as I start my new journey. Narcs are devious, they are thieves.
BUMPS AND BRUISES – as the years rolled by, he got clever. Black eyes are hard to hide. The beatings stopped (well almost) around my face and he would hit me on my body and on my head, where the marks would be hidden. My arms gave me away though. But I could find excuses for that. And he would tell everyone that I got drunk and fell off the bath, fell down the stairs, fell on the floor. Such a charming man. Everyone believed him. Mostly….
I REMEMBER ONE YEAR….well at least one full year…..where I just collected one black eye after another. Sometimes two at a time. It seemed like just as the bruise was fading, and I could venture out, BAM – another one. What was I ashamed of? What would people think? Why did I stay? A thousand questions – I never asked them. Why? Was I already broken when he met me?
I’m getting tired now. Dredging up the past. Looking at the lie I allowed myself to live. Eventually things are so bad, and you are so shamed, that you think it’s too late to be honest…with other people who may think you are weak and broken, but most of all, too late to be honest with yourself.
Because that would mean looking yourself in the eye and asking : WHO ARE YOU???
How sad to measure the success of a relationship by the number of bruise-free weeks you have. I didn’t have many….but there were enough to keep me in chains.
Slept well, woke up early, felt a need to find a me-specific message in the Bible, read a bit, found it, feeling strong today.
So, 8 days after I escaped, and 1 day after my birthday, I got this message from Narc. He has never celebrated Christmas with me, much less even remembered my birthday. The last gift I got was about 4 years ago (perfume that his mother wears) and a card that wasn’t even taken out the plastic wrapping, never mind with a message inside. He gave these to me in the morning, and then disappeared into his workshop all day to drink alone and probably speak to other people on his precious phone, which is attached to his hip like a permanent fixture.
So, after ignoring his calls (about 3 or 4 of them), this is the message I got (interesting to note “STILL help you with your credit card – ja right!)
I am grateful to be in a place of safety and strength, with the knowledge to understand that this is NOT REAL. He was probably just bored. He hates to be alone. If he decides to honour the debt, ie damages he has left me with, then great. If not, I am happy to walk away from it. I will certainly not mention this again to him, never mind answer his pathetic calls.
Me? I’m happy to be “alone”….away from this kind of manipulation. I am not under any false impression that my new journey will be easy, but I am 100% certain that it has begun, and will continue day by day.
Fare thee well, 2015. Bring on the new.
Ah bugger…..I am feeling very weepy this morning. I can’t pinpoint it….I am not missing Narc, I am in a safe place…..
Maybe…..I am a creature of habit, and I am in a very new space now.
I miss my mother…so very much.
It’s the holiday season, I cannot throw myself into work – I’m in the entertainment industry as an agent and in this country we have very little work booking bands over this time. We simply don’t do that anymore. Am I bored, and being to introspective?
I try to keep my thoughts contained, but I find myself remembering all the terrible things I have been through during my decade in the abusive relationship. Horrible things that still shame me, that I haven’t told anyone.
I’ve taken a tranquiliser. Whatever it takes to stop me breaking. Whatever it takes to get me through my weepy days – the days mama told me would come. But not to stay.
Nothing comes to stay.