I committed to complete honesty in my blog, even when it means I have to show an ugly side I prefer others not see. This blog is the only place I can be completely honest about everything regarding myself and the Narcs in my life, so I don’t expect everyone to like this post. In fact, some of you may hate it. It’s ugly, and it’s negative, and it’s petty, but it’s also something that’s REALLY bothering me, and since this blog is, first and foremost, self-therapy, sometimes ugly stuff is going to come up. What I’m going to write about may even make some of you suspect I’m the narcissist, but read further if you want to understand. I really wish I didn’t feel this way and didn’t have to write this ugly post.
I’m going to keep this short because I don’t want to dwell on it. In fact, I’d really just like to forget about it and move on. But I’m obsessing, so maybe writing about it in my blog will help me to let it go. I can’t talk about this with anyone I know IRL.
For those of you who have read my entire story (click the “My Story” link in the green header), you already know I spent many years supporting a man I was no longer married to, allowing him to freeload, trash my house, take over my home, abuse me and my family, and suck me dry financially, spiritually and emotionally for 7 years after we were no longer married to each other.
In 2010 or 2011, Michael applied for disability. I won’t say he isn’t disabled, because in a relative sense he is. I do think his “mental problems” are largely fabricated. The guy is a Narc–that’s his primary mental problem. I don’t believe he is actually Bipolar and he certainly isn’t suffering from PTSD. I don’t think Narcs can suffer from PTSD (can they?) although perhaps they can be bipolar. But I know him, and I know 99% of it is an act, so that he could appear “crazy” enough to get the treatment required by SSI so he would qualify–and also be able to stay in a psyciatric ward during the time when he would have otherwise been homeless.
Keep in mind that Michael didn’t have a second thought about ousting me from MY home (AND taking my kids away from me) back in 2003 when he was working in cahoots with his flying monkey Rachel who had taken over my home. He never apologized for this either. Yet he hates me because I “made him homeless” because after waiting on him hand and foot for 7 years and getting (and asking) nothing in return other than some help with the bills (which because he refused to work he couldn’t provide) I finally tossed him out when I reached my breaking point when he gave my daughter a black eye. I told him way back in 2007 when he first moved back in with me I would not tolerate violence. Well, he broke that promise. If he hadn’t done that, chances are I would still be putting up with him today.
During the time he was waiting for disability, he did so by my charity. If it hadn’t been for me providing him a place to live–and otherwise supporting him, he would probably have died on the streets since no one else would put up with him (and everyone else had kicked him out). He would never have gotten his SSI because no one would have sacrificed their happiness, given over their home, or put up with his intolerable, exploitative behavior for that long.
One day recently I sat down and calculated how much he had cost me over the 7 years he lived with me and the 5 he lived as a human leech and did not contribute one penny to the household expenses. I spent at least $20K on him, including turning over at least a third of my tax returns to him for at least 4 of those years. And this after he whined countless times, “But I don’t cost you anything!” Yeah, right.
Today he got his SSI check–not the regular monthly check, but the back pay going back to the time he stopped working in about 2008. The check he got is for well over $30K. So this useless, narcissistic, evil, hateful, exploitative, pathetic excuse for a human being is being rewarded–on the backs of the two people (me and my daughter) who made it all possible for him (not to mention the taxpayers). And yet….he told my daughter I will not get a dime of this money. Even though he saw how much I struggle financially, even though I work my ass off, even though I do all this with a smile on my face…not once during the time he lived with me did he show one iota of empathy or even offer to help around the house. Even after working all day, I came home and did all the housework–which meant cleaning up after him because he sat here getting high and trashed the house every day.
If I was going to make him accountable for what I had to spend on him, I would ask him for $20K. But I will not do that. I feel $3500 is fair. Of course he is not legally obligated to pay me this sum, nor do I have any legal rights to it. I don’t have a case in the eyes of the law. I don’t expect to get a dime from him, in fact, knowing his history with money, I expect he will spent most of it on drugs and gambling, maybe buy himself a nice new car (while my transmission on my 2001 Taurus is almost shot) and find a place to rent. The rest he’ll spend on whims–because that’s the way he operates. He sees something and has to have it right now. Like most narcs, he’s stuck at the emotional level of a very young child. The money he has will probably be gone in six months.
But it still doesn’t make me feel any better. I feel like I’ve been had. Used and used up.
I’m still dirt poor and now the asshat’s got a shitload of money for doing absolutely nothing except use me to freeload off of while he waited to get that money, and the unfairness of it is astounding and infuriating and makes me want to break a lot of things.
I understand if this sounds incredibly self indulgent, childish, and petty, and I apologize for that. I’m not too proud of it either. But I just don’t understand why Narcs ALWAYS seem to come out ahead, leaving a trail of destruction and misery behind them. I hope there’s a such thing as karma.
The Serenity Prayer comes in handy in times like this.
God grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change.
The Courage to change the things I can
And the Wisdom to know the difference.
It’s the only thing I can do.