Alaina’s epiphany

Posted on February 6, 2015 by luckyotter

Alaina, one of my readers and a frequent commenter on this blog, wrote the incredible story of how she found God’s grace on a dark snowy night in Maine when she had lost all hope and was preparing to die.

My epiphany wasn’t anywhere near as dramatic as Alaina’s–I could see her story as a novel or movie. I’m posting it not because of its drama though (God has a different plan for each of us–he appears in some lives more quietly) but because of how inspirational it is. My jaw was glued to the floor after reading it. I couldn’t help but think of the “Footprints” prayer.

Here is Alaina’s blog (about having PTSD). Please follow her!

On the night of January 14, 1990, I walked exactly 17 miles in a snowstorm down an isolated unplowed road not far from the coast of Maine, where I lived at that time. I know I walked exactly 17 miles because the next day, I followed my footprints in the snow in a car and that’s what the car’s odometer showed.

I had run out of the house to get away from my abusive husband, in terror for both my life and my sanity. I was emotionally very fragile, as a lot of things in my little world were unraveling at that time.

I half-ran, half-walked out of town until I got to the unplowed coastal road, where there was no traffic, no houses, no buildings of any kind, not even any electrical poles for many miles, just trees and more trees and lots of frozen snow and ice everywhere. When I got far enough outside of town to feel sure that no one could hear me, that’s when I began RAGING at God at the top of my lungs. About two and a half years had passed since I had left my job at Pat Robertson’s TV ministry, with my faith utterly destroyed, during that time when Robertson was running for President and the scandals of Jim Bakker and Jimmy Swaggart and other big TV ministers were making headlines. I had stopped believing in God then for all kinds of reasons and – if God DID exist – then I was extremely furious at Him!

I walked for hours through the dark night, with no streetlights or any other lights in sight, just a hazy sliver of moonlight shining through the snow clouds reflecting eerily off the white wilderness that surrounded me. As I walked and raged through the deepening snow, my face, feet, hands, and ears grew numb and my knees began to ache and throb so bad, I felt like I couldn’t take another step. And yet I kept going, having made up my mind to walk until I keeled over and died of exhaustion and hypothermia. That was my crazy plan, to die out there in the frozen wilderness at the ripe old age of 36. But FIRST, before I died, I wanted to tell God, if He really existed, exactly why I was so damn PISSED OFF at him!

So I yelled about all of the evil and horror and pain and disasters in the world. I yelled about children and tiny babies who suffer and die of cancer and other horrible diseases, I yelled about evil wars, I yelled about hurricanes and earthquakes and wild fires and tornadoes that kill and destroy, I yelled about rape and hate and trauma and abuse and mental illness and poverty and hunger and broken hearts and broken families. I yelled about every single thing I could think of to yell about that was wrong in the world, and I yelled about every single thing I could think of that had ever gone wrong in my life. I yelled and I yelled and I yelled at the God I did not believe in, with snow blowing in my frozen face and crunching under my aching feet and knees. I yelled and I yelled and I yelled until I finally yelled myself out. I had yelled about everything I could think of to yell about, there was nothing left inside me, not one damn thing.

At that point, feeling utterly empty and depleted, I kept walking, because there wasn’t anything else to do. And that was when my epiphany happened. It was as if a veil had been drawn back and I was given the temporary ability to see, feel, and sense what was already all around and within me, something too big and overwhelming to discern in ordinary time, with ordinary human senses. I did not see any visions, I did not hear any voices. But I felt: GOD. A huge presence, a great reality, as real and palpable to me as anything I have ever seen or felt or sensed in my entire life, before or since. God was simply THERE, in everything and through everything, part of all of reality, even, somehow, a part of me. And God’s huge, overwhelming presence was overwhelmingly perfect: perfect love, perfect goodness, perfect peace, perfect holiness.

I was not given any answers to any of my questions, not a single one. There were no rebukes or rebuttals for anything I had yelled at Him through all those hours and miles. God just simply WAS, and God was perfectly GOOD, and God absolutely LOVED ME, unconditionally and completely, through and through, in spite of – and maybe because of? – everything that was “wrong” with me.

Not only that, but I got the very strong impression that God was letting me know that He understood, 100%, everything there was to understand about me. He “got” me. He “got” why I was the way I was, He understood why I did the things I did. God knew even those things about me that I did not know about myself, things that I have either forgotten or never known. God knew and understood and He loved me perfectly, faults and all!

Then I heard the sound of an approaching diesel engine. I did not want anyone to see me, because I knew I probably looked like hell – I had been sobbing during a lot of my yelling at God, and I have never been a pretty crier, my face gets all red and puffy and my nose runs. I have literally scared myself just by looking in a mirror after I cry. So, before the headlights of the approaching truck came around the corner, I slipped and slid off the road and hid behind a thick stand of trees.

The truck pulled up right beside me and stopped. Then I heard a male voice call my name.

It was an old Canadian lobster man by the name of Delwyn, a man I had just met and barely knew. He said he had wondered why I wasn’t at the AA meeting in town that night (although I had only recently started going there and wasn’t sure if I would continue). He said that all during the meeting he had a strong, nagging feeling that he needed to go look for me, that I was in trouble. When the meeting ended, as he was driving home, he noticed a lone set of footprints beside the road, heading out of town. So he had followed my footprints. Who would have guessed that my guardian angel would be an old weather-beaten lobster man?

He drove me to my home, and I have never had a drink of alcohol since that night.

However, I continued to be an agnostic-almost-atheist for the next 13 years. I did not come back to being a Christian until 2003!

Alaina wanted me to put in a disclaimer about the possibility what happened to her could have been due to severe PTSD. I’ll just copy her next post.

I don’t know why my epiphany was so dramatic, maybe God took pity on me because of all the unusual amount of trauma I had lived through, who knows? And it’s crazy that I still did not call myself a Christian for the next 13 years, and even today I STILL have some doubts! Because honestly, nothing in my almost 62 years of living on this earth has ever seemed as real to me as this experience, and my second near-death experience that happened a little over 3 years later.

The problem is that I kept wondering if it was just me being crazy and imagining these extremely vivid occurrences, because… well, mental illness does run in my family, plus I had that 2-year post-traumatic breakdown when I was 14 – 16 years old – although, even during that time, I never once lost touch with consensual reality.

Still, it’s a terrible thing to go through so much trauma and to have such terrible PTSD as a result, that you get to a point where God could appear to you in a burning bush and you will be like, “Yeah, right, like I’m going to believe THIS is real. 🙂

But yes, to answer your question, feel free to use this as a post if you want, I am honored. Also, feel free to attach a disclaimer if you want to, about my mental health… However if you do that, you may also want to include the fact that after my last divorce was final in February 2003, I took my settlement money and checked myself into a mental health clinic, where I had to pay my way with cash, as I had lost my health insurance in the divorce. (I could have paid cash for a nice little house with that money, and I even had the house picked out – but I realized that having a nice house to live in, with me being so miserable that I wanted to die, was not going to do me any good, I needed some real HELP.)

Paul Meier, MD, is the founder of the psychiatric clinic that I went to, in Richardson, Texas. Dr. Meier, who I believe has several doctorates to his name and has been a psychiatrist for about 40 years, plus he has authored or co-authored over 80 books, many of which were best sellers, and he has been on the Oprah Show – Dr. Meier himself ordered a full battery of psychological and physical tests for me, and when he gave me the results of all of my tests, he said that I had severe PTSD and general depression and anxiety, and that I may also have something that he called Cyclothemia (However you spell it? It is a mild form of bipolar disorder, which my doctors since then have decided that I do NOT have, they say I only have the PTSD and depression/anxiety). Dr. Meier told me very definitely that, despite my almost two year incarceration in an insane asylum as a teenager, that I am NOT psychotic, I am NOT crazy, in fact he said that I am amazingly normal, considering my life history.

Dr. Meier is the one who told me that having a PTSD reaction to overwhelming extreme trauma is NORMAL, just as it is normal to bleed if you are stabbed.

So, yes… I realize there is always the possibility that the two most profound and vivid experiences of my entire life were somehow a result of something going briefly haywire in my brain. But I have been certified SANE, and I see a therapist regularly who also says I am sane.

My envy

Posted on February 6, 2015 by luckyotter

“Envy” by Marta Dahlig, Deviantart

I have a trait I’m ashamed of, and I’ve been struggling with it my entire life: envy.

It’s been getting a lot better since I went No Contact and started blogging. I’m generally less envious than I used to be, but today it reared its ugly head again.

What distinguishes my envy from narcissistic envy though, is the fact I have never, no matter how much I envied someone, wanted to take away what they had or ruin it for them. Sometimes (not often enough, but sometimes) envy has a plus side: it sometimes inspires us to want to improve our own lot.

When I’m envious, I brood about it and feel resentful that I don’t have the same.

I clean houses part time (this is actually not an awful job) and some of the houses belong to very wealthy people. There’s one family whose house I clean every two weeks–it’s a damned McMansion–who seem to have everything and then some. I had to clean their house today.

The wife, Wendy, is actually very sweet, and always gives generous tips. She’s probably in her 40s and very attractive, with a perfect body and always dresssed in new designer outfits. Her husband is some kind of high level executive and obviously earns a high income. They have three very attractive daughters, one who is going to be going away to college soon. The other two are 16 and 8. This family can pay for their daughters to go to the best schools. Wendy takes lessons in Tai Kwando, and the daughters all get music and dance lessons. They are all involved in sports. Wendy drives a late model SUV and this is just one of their three cars. They go on vacations several times a year. Their Christmas tree was 12 feet tall and scattered all over the house, in every room, are photos of the three girls at different ages, on vacation, or at some sporting event, at a party, or dressed in Christmas dresses and seated under their huge tree. Wendy seems very maternal and nurturing from everything I can see.

Grrrrr. (These aren’t Wendy’s daughters, but this picture looks like them and that looks like the type of house they live in).

I’m extremely envious of Wendy and her family. I compare myself to her, and of course I come up far shorter in just about every area: I’m not married anymore; I struggle to support myself, my daughter and my pets (I’m what most people would consider poor); my son is gay (which is not a problem for me at all but probably means he won’t ever have children); and my daughter is disordered (probably BPD) and shows no interest in getting a higher education although she is very intelligent. I drive a 13 year old car which is in need of repairs. I don’t get to take vacations or even getaway weekends. I’m attractive but Wendy is much more so. I am not athletic or particularly musical. I can’t dance. I’m uncoordinated.

I would never do anything to try to make Wendy’s life miserable though. I like her as a person. The envy I feel may not even be true envy. It’s almost an admiring, slightly awestruck feeling, that someone can be as fortunate as Wendy and her family. I marvel at how lives can turn out so vastly different.

The funny thing is, I probably would dislike living Wendy’s sort of life. It’s way too conventional for me and I can’t stand their house, which is too big, too cold, and it’s a f*cking McMansion and I would rather live in a cabin in the woods.

Of course I don’t know what may be going on behind closed doors. Wendy does seem a bit like the codependent type, and there’s a slightly sad look in her eyes. I wonder about that. Her husband doesn’t seem to be home a lot because he travels so much. In the family photos that include him, he looks a little reptilian. Sometimes I wonder if he’s a narc and Wendy might be being abused in some way. But I prefer my envy and imagine they have the perfect marriage and the family is functional and happy all the time. I like to think of them as the family I wanted to be raised in and the family I wanted to have.

Sometimes I remind myself of Robin Williams’ character in the 2002 psychological thriller “One Hour Photo.” Sy (played by Williams) is a pathetic, lonely photo-developing technician with no life to speak of who experiences pathological envy over a family whose photos he develops. His envy eventually turns into a dangerous obsession. It’s an interesting psychological profile of a man who is probably a “needy narcissist.” It’s a very creepy movie, and is definitely worth watching for anyone interested in the way a psychopath thinks. Of course Williams’ acting is superb.

Here’s the trailer for “One Hour Photo.”

Fun with spam #3

Posted on February 5, 2015 by luckyotter

I hate how much spam I’m getting and most of it’s mind numbingly boring, but here’s a couple more gems worth posting before I delete them. See, spam can be fun!

Submitted on 2015/02/05 at 7:10 pm
Hi there Dear, are you genuinely visiting this web site
on a regular basis, if so then you will without doubt obtain pleasant knowledge. [That’s good to know.]

Submitted on 2015/02/05 at 6:38 pm
Previous research has suggested that the virus has been quite common in camels for at least the past 20 years, and was likely making the jump into humans. [should I be worried about this?]

Tonnemacher remains looking forward to breasts convalescence but it’s not really delaying the woman’s straight down. She has pumped up about the woman reduce and wants some other survivors to know whenever their head of hair evolves returning, they will should never think twice about at risk of your hairstylist. [sounds logical]

Puppy owners Hayley Sulley, 30, and Della Woods, Twenty nine.
The particular Athens Banner-Herald [link deleted] studies which a company director concealed the actual Navigation unit within the carry, inserted it in a handbag of clothes as well as tossed the idea into the variety container. [um, wut?]

Submitted on 2015/02/06 at 2:45 am
I knew I needed a platform for that molding
of the deer. [I really needed to know that.]

What I have learned.

Posted on February 5, 2015 by luckyotter

I had some computer problems tonight (am still having them–this computer is running very slow), so that’s why I haven’t posted anything. I am finally getting to do that.

Some of us may think a narcissist can change. Some of us may think that deep down, they can’t possibly be such bad people. We make excuses for them: they’re rough around the edges, need someone to care about them, they’re really a big softy under that hard exterior, they’re defensive and nasty to us because they’ve been hurt too often.

Not everyone who is rough acting or cranky is a narcissist. There are people who throw up defense mechanisms or act grumpy or snap at you for no reason, but you’ll be able to tell they aren’t narcissists because they won’t be trying to gaslight you, triangulate against you, tell you lies, project their own character flaws onto you, blame you for things that you didn’t do, or act sadistic to try to hurt you. They will have a conscience; they can feel empathy; they can apologize when they’ve been wrong and mean it. They may be depressed or anxious which causes them to act out. They may have something on their mind or be angry with someone. It could even be cultural–kids who had to grow up in rough neighborhoods may act a bit hard-edged even as adults, but that doesn’t make them narcissists or bad people.

A good way to tell if someone who is lashing out at you is not a narcissist is to wait until they are calmed down, and then calmly ask them why they attacked you. If they apologize or talk about their feelings with you, most likely they aren’t a narcissist (but be careful, because a narcissist who thinks they might be losing their supply could be love-bombing you).

If they ignore you, change the subject, or most tellingly, tell you you’re the one with the problem and they’ve done nothing wrong, most likely you’re dealing with a narcissist. Once you know that, expect nothing from them, because you will always be disappointed.

If you know someone is a narcissist, never give them the benefit of the doubt.
They aren’t nice people.
They aren’t going to change.
You cannot help them.
You cannot reason with them.
You cannot get them to “see your side” of things.
They cannot be pleased.
They don’t care about your feelings, only their own.
You are wasting your time on them.

Being nice to them or pandering to them not only won’t work; it will make them treat you worse. They may respect you if you play their own games right back or stand up to them, but they are never going to like you, because they don’t like anyone, least of all themselves.

I like to think the best about people. I’m a natural born sucker. I always give people the benefit of the doubt.
Until today, I thought there was hope for some of them. But I learned a hard lesson.
There is hope for none of them.
They may not want to be narcissists, but they are, and nothing they or you or anyone can do will ever make them change. The only thing that makes sense is to stay the hell away from them or avoid them as much as possible.

They are poison. They live in a hell they created for themselves and they will take you with them if you give them half a chance.
Don’t.

3 more days until my one year narc-free anniversary!

Posted on February 4, 2015 by luckyotter

A few days early but I just realized it’s almost a year! February 7th, 2014 was the day my MN ex-husband was taken off in handcuffs after I obtained a 7-day restraining order. I obtained a one year extension in March (after a terrifying ordeal in court where I had to get up on the stand and state my case WITH HIM IN THE ROOM). He was very glib but his argument for staying with me was laughable. Even the judge was rolling his eyes.

Just to be on the safe side, I’ll probably have to renew the order, but I’m quite sure he’s given up on me being his supply anymore.

I’m not the same person I was one year ago. Everyone had given up on me. I remember being told I was like a walking dead person. I felt like I was marking time until my physical death. That’s how far gone I was after so many years of mental and emotional (and sometimes physical) torture.

I’ll be talking about this again in 3 days. But I couldn’t wait.

Funny cat photo of the day.

Image

Wow, this is getting real…

Posted on February 4, 2015 by luckyotter

Back in late October, I made the decision to become Catholic. I’ve been attending RCIA (Rite of Christian Initiation) classes every Wednesday night since then.
If you want to read about how my decision evolved, you can read these blog posts:
My Problem with Christianity
I Made a Little Deal with God Today
So Apparently God Accepted My Deal (Part 1 of 2)
So Apparently God Accepted My Deal (Part 2 of 2)
Which Religion is the One True Religion? (not really about my spiritual journey, but might be of interest to readers interested in this topic)

The mass where I’ll be initiated into the church will be at the Easter Vigil Mass on the evening of Saturday, April 4th. I’m the only Anglo candidate this year (the others are Hispanic and attend the Spanish speaking masses). This part of the country isn’t exactly swarming with people wanting to become Catholic!

I’ll be receiving all the sacraments (communion and confirmation) at that time (Confession must be done prior to that). My Methodist baptism is recognized as valid, which surprised me. I have to find the certificate though, which I know I do have, so no having to contact my parents about it. Whew!

I met with the priest tonight to discuss what else I need to do to get ready. There are a few special masses I need to attend, and I also will be meeting with the Bishop in a few weeks. Time has really flown–it’s going to happen in exactly two months! Two months ago was December, and that seems just like yesterday. Things are getting real.

I feel like this is going to be a life changing event for me. I know about all the problems people have with the Catholic church, and some of those arguments are valid. But I feel like this is the direction that’s right for me and that God is leading me to. My other blog posts will explain why.

In fact, the other day I was talking to an old friend on Facebook and he told me he became Catholic last year and it’s the best decision he ever made. I was encouraged by that because it’s all a little scary!

My bucket list (we all need one).

Posted on February 3, 2015 by luckyotter

These are the things I want to do before I die. Of course, these are subject to change and new ones will come along!

1. Write and publish a book about everything I’ve learned from growing up in a narcissistic family and being married to a narcissistic husband.

2. Write a bestselling novel or self help book based on my own experiences.

2. Be able to quit my day job and make an income from this (or another) blog.

3. Go to an exotic or remote country, preferably tropical.

4. Sing in a karaoke contest. (People say I have a decent voice but it’s one of those things I never developed)

5. Learn a musical instrument.

6. Get married again someday to a supportive, fun-loving, non-narcissistic man, who likes to travel and is good at home projects too.

7. Buy a Bengal cat.

8. Buy a small but quaint home near the ocean on the Gulf Coast of Florida.

9. Be completely self confident and at ease with myself.

10. Get over my fear of dying.

11. Redecorate my home exactly the way I want it.

12. Live for several months among people from a different culture.

13. Finally be able to give up smoking completely.

14. Drive cross country with a good friend or lover in a camper-trailer.

16. Finally be free of all my irrational fears.

17. Make a Beef Wellington.

18. Enter an art show and win a prize!

19. Do something really unconventional or eccentric in public and not worry about people thinking I’m crazy.

20. Hike the entire Appalachian Trail (Georgia to Maine; this takes about 6 months).

21. Be happy.

Now, I am going to ask something of you. I’m inviting my readers to add their own bucket lists in the comments. What would you most like to do before you die?

Narcissists are nothing but balloons

Posted on February 3, 2015 by luckyotter

Stick a ~~fork~~ pin in it. It’s done.

This great analogy came up in a Facebook conversation. The analogy isn’t mine, but from another survivor of narcissistic abuse, a woman named Mary Pranzatelli, who asked me to use her name. Mary says:

You just know at the core of that [narcissistic] man/woman is an inner child. And you feel like there is hope that you can pop the balloon that has suffocated this child. A narc reminds me of a balloon. You keep blowing air in his/her balloon. Eventually you become exhausted from blowing into this balloon. The air slowly seeps out… And the Narc needs a new source to blow him up again.

Blowing air in the balloon…is supply. When a Narcissist gets bored or has a Narcissistic injury the balloon deflates…and the person that fails to blow air into the balloon consistently, becomes devalued and discarded. You can only blow up a balloon for so long…

Narcissists are just balloons filled with hot air, and as survivors, we can visualize popping them or letting the air out. It’s a funny exercise, but could help because thinking of them as balloons can make them seem less threatening.

Remember too, narcissists, like balloons, are extremely fragile. They need a constant supply of air from an outside source to float. Otherwise, they are just a limp piece of thin rubber.