Purging some memories….

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???

Living with a Narc, not a walk in the park…

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.

Never again.



Attempted hoovering?

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!)

Narc sms 28 dec 2015

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.


Mama told me there’d be days like this…

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.


It is done….

As I sit in my new home, it is hard to believe that I managed my escape.

I planned it in about 3 weeks, no packing allowed – Lord only knows what Narc would have done should he have suspected my plan.

I woke early on Sunday morning, 20 December…..waiting for the arrival of a few trusted friends and two trucks.  Then came the frenzy of packing what I could, loading trucks, medicating dogs for travel – all done shuffling between being in a mind-numbing daze and half panic.

Narcs are cowards, we all know that.  The presence of other people made him docile and watchful, but silent.  He sat watching the truck being loaded, drinking all day.  I had two homes to load : my mother’s cottage (she passed away on 14 November), and my own stuff.

On the morning of the move, as soon as two of my friends arrived (safety in numbers), I went into his room, sat on the edge of his bed, and told him I was leaving.  He looked at me with contempt and said “So? And the problem is?”  I told him I was just being polite, and that was probably the sum total of our conversation the whole day.

I will post more later…..but for now, I am free.

Life turns on a tickey….

So much has happened in the last 2 weeks.  The verbal abuse is just mad.  He’s out drinking and partying so often that it’s not even worth mentioning how many days a weeks he’s not at home anymore.

This past Saturday his friend came by in the morning, I saw them unload the booze, I just knew I was in for a tough one.  I guess I’m not wrong about everything….I should know by now….

And it was a tough one….he flew into one of his black rages.  His friend was going to just walk out the door and leave me here.  I gave him a bit of my mind….I told him that people like him are quick to drink and party with the Narc, but when they see the shit hit the fan, just as quick to run away.  Told him that he owed it to me to stay the night.  Begged actually, begged him not to leave.  He stayed.  But the things that were said (screamed) by the Narc hit hard.  They always do.  He wants me out.  Wants me gone.

Little does he know (well he’s a really good snoop, so he probably has an inkling), this wish of his will be granted soon….sooner than he thinks…

My heart is pounding in my chest.  It has been for the last week.  My hands shake every day.




More than just a blog….

I realise now that this is more than just a “blog” – more than just an outlet for my frustrations and sadness.  This is a history.  That someone may or may not have to find one day.

Today my little lady helper came back, and she is SO shattered by the treatment of the Narc – she could barely hold back the tears.

So…(ja, I am dumb) – I stepped in and laid into him about treating people like shit for NO reason, other than his comment (loud) “oh, I am busy, you don’t understand” etc ad fucking nauseum.

He came for me again.  I said (Dutch courage) – hit me ONE MORE TIME and you will go to jail.

He said – you will be dead, so nobody will know.

Like I said – is this a blog? Or is it my history?

Fuck him.

Heart bleeds for this little lady working here.  She breaks her back for this areshole.  Every time I touch her, or call her aside, she breaks down in my arms.


Or can I borrow one, please??





I’m good….

I’m good, I am fine.  Lord only knows why. Last night presented itself as a “hard” night.

I’m not really a scratcher, a snooper….I went through Narc’s cubby hole in his car.  Found a lipstick and an electronic cigarette (don’t judge me, yeah, I smoke).  But WHY would someone take those two items from inside my handbag and hide them in his car?

I wish I had listened more to my mother.  He is not to be trusted.  With anything.  Not one damn thing.

And I think he saw me.  Hahahahaha – things are going to get worse.  But I am prepared.  I think…..

What a chop!


My jewellery is still missing.  I wlll never find them.  I have let them go.  If it pleases his black heart, he can have them.


Memories : 12 May 2011

From my journal…..Thursday 12 May 2011….QUOTE…….

Things B said last night that maybe I should remember….

“What cheap shit do you use on your hair? You smell like a kaffir bitch.”

“Take your shit and leave.  Fuck your ring.  Take it and sell it.”

“You mean nothing. My son is my family: (he was a TIK – meth addict at the time)

“You are nothing more than my future ex-wife”

“You don’t get any notice to move. You pack a suitcase and leave now”

“If you think you contributed anything to this move, then by packing (laughs), then fucken name your price and I will pay for your packing services then you can fuck off my farm now”

NOTE : I packed up his whole damn house AND his mom’s house for this move to the farm……


This is the first of my very deeply concealed memories.  Do not judge me.  Do not.







Oh dear…take note…please…

Narc is in a particularly bad mood.  He has made everyone cry with his yelling and name calling.

It started very early this morning.  The man who has worked for his family for over 25 years is in tears.  My little lady who helps to clean broke down in my arms this afternoon..  She is 20 years old and works like a demon.

He nearly smacked me just now when I called him out about making everyone cry.

I think he needs a drink.

Things will get bad tonight.

Dammit where is my mother????

This Narc is out of control.

Maybe I will just beat him to death before he does it to me.


Let’s wait and see.  I am tired of being a victim.  I will go down fighting.



How much more…?

I wonder how much more one person can take in terms of loss and abuse.  They say that God will never test you beyond what you can bear.  Well, dear God, please know that you will break me if this continues.

I homed my precious goats the other day.  Oh, how I loved them.  All seven of them….in one foul swoop…..carried away…..  Yes, to a brilliant home, yes to someone who will love them and care for them forever, but away from me.  No more calling in the morning…..I miss them so much.  Narc hasn’t mentioned this.  Not once.  But that’s okay.  Well, not really, I expected maybe one ounce of compassion, maybe an iota, a smidgen of “how you doing girl?”

Yesterday I took a throw away scrap of a dog to the vet….I held her in my arms when they put her down.  I cried so hard, for this little girl who had known so much hardship….but not me, she never knew me.  I only found her the night before.  She had been through so much.  I was desperate to leave the house….I could see she was dying…..Narc had to bath first…..but then he also had to make coffee before he got into the bath.  I was beside myself.  He told me to fuck off by myself.  I did.

I ask myself time and time again, where and how did I make such a bad decision in my life?  Was I not smart enough to see the signs?  I’m in so deep…..my shovel is small, but I’m digging.  Digging my way out.