I’m ready to kick some narc ass.

Posted on March 27, 2015 by luckyotter

Yesterday I wrote my rant about my psychopathic sperm donor getting an increase in his disability benefits because of his “homicidal tendencies.”

I was amazed by everyone’s support and encouragement to call out this useless POS and fight the travesty of his being rewarded by the system for being a potentially homicidal psychopath. I’m grateful to everyone for this, because it’s given me the courage to actually take this thing and run with it.

The first thing I need to do is contact the newspapers, either by writing a letter about this outrage or better, finding a sympathetic reporter to write up the story. I could also write a letter describing this travesty to politicians who would be sympathetic to my case. It was pointed out to me that conservatives would have a field day with this, which is very funny to me because I’m anything but a conservative. But hey, whatever works.

Since some of you asked, let me give a few details about why the sperm donor gets disability income. He has Type II diabetes, knee problems (he has trouble with his joints and kneecaps), and a host of mental disorders: he has been diagnosed with PTSD, depression, anxiety, and schizophrenia. Depression and anxiety are legitimate diagnoses, but PTSD is highly questionable and I know for a fact he does not have schizophrenia. He is a good actor and faked psychotic symptoms after his second rejection so he would qualify for a guaranteed income and never have to work a day in his life again. He’s actually a highly malignant psychopathic narcissist who is very intelligent but has zero insight. If you were to call him a narcissist, he would deny it or get angry. In fact, he’s very quick to call everyone else a narcissist, including me. If you asked him, he would probably tell you I abused him, and that’s why he has PTSD. In fact, he has said that. He’s a virtuoso at projection and the most skilled gaslighter I’ve ever known, bar none.

My father called him evil long before it even occurred to me that’s what he was. When he sent me M. Scott Peck’s “People of the Lie” back in 2005, before our divorce went through, he sent it with a note telling me to read it because it was about my ex husband. (I also discovered my mother in that book, and this horrified me but I knew it was true.)

It’s outrageous that this monster is faking psychotic symptoms and being rewarded for it. It’s outrageous that he claims to be a victim of narcissistic abuse with me as the narcissist. It’s beyond outrageous that he will be able to live comfortably, get full health coverage, and never have to work a day in his life and have plenty of disposable income from the back pay he is getting for the seven years he lived on my couch smoking weed and making troll posts on political websites while I worked my butt off to support him. It’s infuriating that while he lives the high life on his handouts, I will continue to be poor, struggling the pay the bills every month on my tiny income, not having any health insurance, and God forbid should I become disabled or ill, because there is no one who would or could take me in should that happen. If I get sick or disabled, I’ll be out on the streets. Getting disability requires that you do not work during the review process, which can take years. You need someone to support you during that time. If it weren’t for my allowing this malignant POS to freeload off me for seven years, that’s what would have happened to him. Oh, I could go on and on, but I’ll spare you.

Just writing this has made me angry. Dwelling too much on anger can cause bitterness and misery, but there is healthy anger too–righteous anger caused by realizing you have been had and are the victim of blatant injustice. Sitting around stewing about it can eat away at your soul, but anger can also be the impetus to get out there and make a stand. It’s the same sort of righteous anger that gave me the courage to finally kick out the psychopath when he physically attacked my daughter last year.

Standing up for my rights against a sick system that rewards evil and just plain laziness is a daunting prospect, to say the least, but I think maybe God is testing my courage and ability to make a stand. He knows I’m ready for this because I’ve let go of most of my fear. There’s always a reason for everything.

Fear is the only thing that holds us back from claiming our rights.

I think I’m ready to kick some narc ass.

ETA: I have one request for those of you who have Facebook accounts. Please share this on your timeline. I don’t dare post this on my FB account because it might be seen by him or people who know him, including my kids. But I’d like to get this out there to as many people as possible. Thanks!

So my psychopathic sperm donor’s being rewarded for being “homicidal”–WTF?

Posted on March 25, 2015 by luckyotter

Apparently, we live in a society that REWARDS a psychopathic malignant narcissist for being a potential homicidal maniac.

The latest on my MN sperm donor’s disability case is that his PAYMENTS WILL BE INCREASED BY ABOUT 100% due to his being deemed TOO HOMICIDAL to be employable. The HUGE irony here is that it was because of the restraining order I filed on him in February of 2014 due to his physically attacking my daughter that this has been determined.

So when all is said and done, he’s going to be bringing in about $400 a month more than I make a month for WORKING MY ASS OFF just to sit around at home DOING ABSOLUTELY NOTHING but making everyone around him miserable.

This on top of the nearly $30K he is getting in BACK DISABILITY PAYMENTS for all the years he freeloaded off me.

Do I get anything out of this? HELLS TO THE NO, I don’t. I only get the “satisfaction” of seeing this pathetic, useless malignant narcissist PSYCHOPATH rake in enough cash to be able to live quite comfortably, largely due to my being a codependent doormat for years and then standing up for myself.

Oh, and get this. He’s talking about the new car he’s going to buy when I don’t even earn enough to get my own 14 year old car a tuneup.

What the actual f*ck?

This loser should be in fucking JAIL, not being REWARDED financially for being a potentially murderous psychopathic sicko. This ridiculous excuse for a human being sits around getting high all day and trolling political websites (yes, he is one of those Internet trolls we all hate) and no matter what he does or doesn’t do, everything ALWAYS works out for this sorry POS, while I always have to STRUGGLE MY ASS OFF.

Sorry about the expletives, but I’m so mad right now I want to go break something.
His disordered swelled head, maybe?

Only in America, folks. Your tax dollars at work. (No, I am not a Republican btw).

WHERE IS THE FUCKING JUSTICE?????

I had a bad day.

Posted on March 5, 2015 by luckyotter

Shameless self pity alert. If you hate negative posts, don’t read this.

I barely even replied to my comments today, so if I didn’t reply to yours, don’t take it personally. I’ll try to catch up tomorrow. I didn’t even post anything today, and that’s a first in a long time.

You see, I had a terrible day. It should have been a great day. The weather was warm–in the 70s!–and sunny, and yet my day started out horrible and stayed that way. First of all my roommate got mad because I wouldn’t jump start her car (which needs more than just a jump start) even though I was rushing to get out of the house for work this morning. I asked her if she was going anywhere today that she needed the car and she said not really. I told her I would help her when I got home, and she got all pissy. She actually had the gall to ask me to call work and tell them I’d be late just so I could help her jump start her damn car. I didn’t do it. In fact, I told her how entitled she was acting and she went back in the house pouting. Whatever.

This isn’t the first time my roommate has acted entitled and petulant when she didn’t get her way. I’m beginning to think she’s another narc. There’s a lot of red flags. But she helps me with the rent and I trust her on that level and can’t pay my bills all by myself, and that’s the reason she’s here. There haven’t been any real problems except that her entitled attitude is annoying as hell. She was never supposed to be my best friend. But she invades boundaries, is nosy, and demands special treatment. I left the house angry and feeling put upon.

I was already in a bad mood because of that, and then at work I was paired up to work all day with a woman I dislike (and who I’m pretty sure dislikes me). She’s not a narc, but our personalities just don’t go together well. She doesn’t understand my Aspie ways. She is very social and also acts bossy without having any reason to (I get that a lot–people always try to boss me around like I have no brain). I went off on her twice and apologized, but I just don’t care for her at all. She just gets on my damn nerves. Being an Aspie is so hard sometimes.

We had four houses to clean and none of them were easy. Sometimes I wonder why at my age I’m still cleaning fucking houses for a living, when I have a college degree and I can write. Other people get to write for a living and I’m better than some of them so why can’t I make a living doing it? Oh, I know why. It’s my shitty self esteem, which was destroyed by the narcs that have been pulling my strings and reminding me I’m no more than their puppet since the day I was born. I was trained to be narcissistic supply, to have no self esteem and have no mind of my own. I was trained to be prey. I was a good student. It’s hard to untrain yourself, even after the narcs are gone.

Being as Aspie just exacerbates this unfortunate situation. It’s hard–almost impossible–for us to make the social connections neurotypicals are able to make to get ahead in life. And in these days where “networking” is so all-important, it seems to me that WHO you know is more important than WHAT you know. It really sucks.

I hate that management took away my regular partner, who I got along with well. Management never explains anything. They just play us like chess pieces. They do shit like this and never tell us why. I’m over this job and am looking for another. It will be another shitty job of course, but at least will be a change. I hate working with all women. I get along better with guys in working situations. I miss working with men.

I posted nothing today because I came home angry, exhausted and depressed, and crashed on the bed for a nap almost the minute I got home. I never woke up or even had dinner. I just woke up a few minutes ago and ate a piece of cheese. This was the only post I could think about writing. It’s a sucky post but at least it’s something.

I’m just feeling blah, depressed and uninspired. And I have to go back to my shitty job tomorrow. I’m afraid I’ll be paired with this woman again. If I am I am going to management and tell them I cannot work with her and ask why I can’t work with my old partner anymore–or better yet, work alone more often. You make more money that way and I like days when I can work alone and not have to deal with socializing.

There are days, like today, where I feel like I’ve made no improvement at all, and haven’t really changed from the mousy little person I was a year ago. I’m just a mousy little person who writes a blog. I feel like my life will always be like this, that I’ll always be poor, always have a crappy job, always feel inferior to others, and never really be able to have fun or enjoy life. I’m aware a lot of this is just my pessimism and having a negative attitude. I know not every day will be like this. There are always going to be bad days even when things are generally going pretty well. I’m angry I didn’t get to enjoy the beautiful weather today. But there will be plenty more pretty days to enjoy very soon.

God help me. I have to get up for work again in a few hours. I really hope it’s a better day. I always feel guilty when I wallow in negative thinking, the way I’m doing right now. At least I can write about it.

Righteous anger.

Posted on February 16, 2015 by luckyotter

Anger is a tool for survival.
Anger has a bad reputation. But it isn’t always a bad thing. Anger can help us survive, and although it doesn’t feel good to be angry, it feels a heck of a lot better than feeling helpless, defeated or scared.

Anger is necessary for survival. It’s natural to feel angry when we believe we are being abused or attacked unfairly or our boundaries are being violated. It’s also natural to feel angry when we see a loved one being unfairly treated or abused.

This type of anger is healthy, righteous anger. People who are afraid to show anger at appropriate times, such as when they are being attacked or abused, are people who will always feel helpless and victimized. I felt that way for years, because anger frightened me.

Coming from a family (and a marriage) where anger was the normal dynamic (and was usually directed against me), I learned to fear anger in others–as well as my own anger. Even when I felt rightfully angry and was clearly being unfairly treated, I learned to keep my anger in check and swallow my true emotions. I felt like I had no right to feel my emotions, especially anger.

Anger turned inward becomes depression.
The danger in this is that when we swallow our anger, it doesn’t go away: it turns inward and this manifests as depression and despair. Anger is poison when turned against the self.

Sure, there are lots of people who are too quick to anger, and anger management can help people with a too-short fuse. But for the timid and victimized, allowing yourself a satisfying display of anger when wronged is a healthy thing.

Anger is proactive.
When we are trying to disconnect from an abusive narcissist, anger is absolutely necessary to successfully escape. Anger overrides fear. Ever notice when you’re angry, you’re not afraid anymore? Well, it’s true. If you are trying to disconnect from your narcissist, allow yourself to feel angry. Show that anger. That doesn’t mean you must be abusive yourself or resort to name-calling, but it does give us the impetus to take action. Anger, unlike despair, depression and some types of fear, is a proactive emotion–an emotion that forces us to take a stand, fight back, and get away.

If you are attempting to go No Contact with your narc, feel your anger. Wallow in it. It could save your sanity and maybe your life,as well as those of your children if you have any. It will motivate you to do what you need to do.

Put your empathy on the back burner.
Over time, I’ve developed a level of empathy for narcissists because I realize they have an illness and they do suffer. But when you’re trying to disconnect, it’s better if you can hate them and think of them as monsters or demons. Save any empathy for later on, when you’re stronger and safely away from your abusers. You cannot afford to have empathy for a narcissist when you’re trying to get out of a relationship.

Embrace your righteous anger. It’s healthy and good for you.
But also know when to let it go when it’s no longer needed. It’s a tool, but shouldn’t become a way of life.

Girl Scout Cookies and God…

Posted on February 14, 2015 by luckyotter

Original art from Deviantart.com

It’s times like this my self esteem and progress in healing seems to take a dive into the toilet.
I don’t handle frustration well at all, and it can set me off on my old unhealthy patterns of negative thinking, feeling victimized, and wallowing in self pity.

I am having the tranny rebuilt on my car, and have just enough money from my tax return to have it done. Of course, God always comes through if you ask, and that’s what he did–but I still can’t help feeling sorry for myself because now I have to use my tax return to replace my tranny (and have a car that runs by the end of this week) instead of doing things I would prefer to do, like going to a few concerts or even planning a weekend trip. I know I should be grateful this happened now–when I have the money–instead of later on, when most likely I would not be able to afford it at all.

For the past two days, my roommate hasn’t been feeling well, so she has allowed me to borrow her car to get back and forth to work. Today I needed to get to the bank before they closed to deposit my state return and buy a few groceries. I live about a mile and a half away from the store, and the weather is nice so walking (which I would up doing) isn’t really an issue.

My roommate’s car wouldn’t start and we couldn’t jump start it with my jump start machine either. My daughter has a friend who was picking her up to go to the mall, and it would have been easy enough for her to drop me off at the shopping center so I could do my errands, but she said there wasn’t enough room in the car (there wasn’t).

So I walked, and instead of feeling happy that I could enjoy this beautiful and mild late winter day with the breeze in my face, I felt petulant and victimized instead. When they drove past me and didn’t slow down to ask me if I needed a ride after all, I felt angry and just wanted to give them all the finger. I know it was irrational of me because there were already 5 people in the car along with a baby, but I couldn’t help feeling like the victim again.

Now I’m cranky and depressed and just feel like sleeping away the rest of the day. Is this terribly narcissistic of me? I think it really is. I hate myself for feeling this way, and sometimes it feels like these sort of situations just make dogmeat out of all the progress I’ve made.

I know those of us healing from narcissistic abuse and PTSD have setbacks, but I still can’t help feeling like the way I feel is just wrong and selfish. So there’s guilt on top of everything else.

I knew I needed to blog about this today, as embarrassing as it is to admit how immature and childish I am behaving. I’m sure many of you have felt similarly in these sort of frustrating situations, even when they’re relatively minor, as this one is.

I need to focus on my blessings: my car WILL be fixed (even though it will set me back) and I had an opportunity to take a nice long walk on a pretty day. I also stopped and bought a box of my favorite mint chocolate Girl Scout cookies from some girls outside the supermarket. Think I’ll go indulge now. When all else fails, chocolate is great therapy.

This may be the best therapy at times like this.

A pretty good day

Posted on November 26, 2014 by luckyotter

Alright, so my day didn’t start out very good.

Yesterday I got my settlement check from the insurance company from the car accident Molly was in last month, and this morning had to go to the bank to open a savings account and deposit the rest in checking, so I was an hour late for work because the bank didn’t open until 9 AM and I didn’t want to be toting a huge check around all day.

At 8:30 I received a call from my boss. She screamed “WHERE ARE YOU?”
Rubbing my assaulted ear, I explained I’d left a message on voicemail at 6:30.
“BUT IT WASN’T ON VOICEMAIL! DON’T YOU REALIZE THIS IS OUR BUSIEST SEASON?” The implication that I was lying about leaving a message could not have been more obvious.
“I’m sorry, I did leave a message. I’ll get there as soon as I can. I won’t be more than an hour late.”
“WELL YOU BETTER MAKE IT QUICK!”
Click.

I opened up my laptop and Tweeted: “Today is going to be the day from hell.”
I quickly scanned my blog stats, and found them disappointing.
Mentally I felt my defensive armor going up and my cortisone levels rising. I braced myself for the attack I knew I’d be facing once I got to work.

Although I have nearly perfect attendance and am never late, sure enough, when I arrived at the office, my malignant narcissist boss screamed, “IT’S THE BUSIEST WEEK OF THE YEAR! DON’T YOU REALIZE THAT? YOU ARE RUINING THIS COMPANY!”
Facepalm.

I knew she wasn’t serious, because I do a good job, my attendance is good, and she’s like that with everyone (well, except for her flying monkeys and sycophants), but it still made me feel violated and angry. Narcissists have a way of doing that.

The other bad thing that happened this morning was my daughter Molly went to court and was sentenced to 30 days in jail. She will be out Christmas day (thank goodness for that!). The good thing is that when she gets out, she will owe no more fines (which are far more than she or I can afford) and will have no more probation. She’ll do her time and just has to stay out of trouble after that.

But the day got a lot better. While it wasn’t the day from heaven, it didn’t turn out to be the day from hell either. I made friends with Molly’s older boyfriend, Paul. We were texting each other back and forth about Molly’s day in court and what happened. When I got home from my long day at work, I called him, and we spent about two hours talking. He is very easy to talk to, even for an Aspie like myself–I always feel violated and threatened by the most simple telephone conversations. I always hated the sound of a ringing phone. But talking to Paul was different, and put me at ease.

Paul is not only comfortable to talk to, he genuinely and sincerely cares about Molly. He’s the first boyfriend she’s ever had who has really cared about her wellbeing and wants her to turn her life around instead of all the losers who did nothing but drag her down and use her. We talked mostly about Molly, and what we can do together to help her. He’s older than she is and she listens to him, where she hasn’t always listened to me (I’m her mom–that’s probably why!) He put money into her jail account so she can buy concessions and make phone calls.

The other day I wrote a long depressing post saying I thought Molly was a narcissist (and she may be), but once again I have doubts. Drug addiction and bipolar disorder can also cause a person to act in a narcissistic way. She also has a diagnosis of BPD and PTSD. People with BPD can act very much like narcissists, as can bipolar people in their “manic” phase.

The reason I’m once again doubting she’s a true narcissist is because when she was handcuffed today, Paul was there with her, and she looked at him and said, crying, “I’m so sorry for all the pain I’ve caused everyone. I really want to change. I’m a terrible person.”

I don’t think she would have been faking those tears and those words; for what reason would she do so? Paul told me they have had some deep conversations about her behavior and run-ins with the law over the past decade and how much she doesn’t want to be part of that anymore. I think she was running around with some people who were very bad for her, because she thought she didn’t deserve or couldn’t do any better.

Molly is intellectually brilliant and could do anything she wants in life. Once upon a time she was a straight-A student. But her self esteem is so low that she’s mostly associated with people far beneath her, people who do stupid things because they just aren’t very bright. Paul wants her to spend more time with her psychologically healthier friends who aren’t doing drugs, and meet some of his friends who are succeeding too.

Molly has never liked to read much (although she reads and writes very well), but in jail she will have a lot of time for reading (it beats playing cards and watching endless reruns of “Cops”). He told me about a book she had been talking about by the actress Kristen Johnson, called “Guts,” in which she describes her struggles with alcohol and drugs before she turned her life around. This book could be inspirational for her. Molly has always liked biographies and stories about people with substance abuse issues. I remember her favorite book in high school was one that had also been a favorite of mine when I was her age: “Go Ask Alice.”

I don’t have any family to speak of (or rather, none that I speak to), and certainly none in my area, but Paul invited me to his home for Thanksgiving. I invited my roommate to come along, but she declined, so it will just be the two of us. He’s new in this area and has no family here either. He’s cooking dinner and I’m bringing dessert and a bottle of red Merlot wine (my favorite).

Having been burned so many times by narcissists and psychopaths, I don’t trust people easily, so of course there’s a small nagging voice in my head warning me Paul may be a narcissist in the love-bombing phase, but I really, truly don’t think so.

Just the other day, Molly was talking about having kids someday. She’s never shown the slightest bit of interest in having children (she is a bit young still and certainly not emotionally ready), but she told me she would be interested if she was married, and she thinks Paul may be The One. I told her not to rush things and I would like her to attend school first. Paul and I think she just may do this once she is released. He wants to take her to the community college just to have a look around and maybe sign up for one class just to get her feet wet.

After putting most of the settlement in savings, I still have a little over $1,000 left, a nice sum of cash for someone as poor as I am. Some will be used for Christmas, but I decided to order a few books tonight. One was Kristen Johnson’s book “Guts” which I’ll bring to Molly; I also ordered a Wild Republic stuffed raccoon (a Christmas gift for my son (who already has “Alfonso” the river otter, who I wrote about)), and two more books about narcissism: Martha Stout’s “The Sociopath Next Door,” which I have heard great things about; and Sam Vaknin’s gigantic tome, “Malignant Self Love: Narcissism Revisited.”
I love to get things in the mail, especially books.

Any day, no matter how shitty it starts, where I can make a new friend, feel hopeful about my kid, have a little money to spend, realize I won’t be alone on a big holiday after all, and get some new books to read, is a good day. And if I can end that day with a new blog post telling you what a good day it was, then it’s officially a great day.

10 things that piss me off

Posted on October 22, 2014 by luckyotter

In no particular order (I hate them all about the same!)

1. Tailgaters. Really, you’re in THAT much of a hurry?

2. People who text while driving. It should be illegal in ALL states. When you text and drive, you’re as impaired as someone just over the legal alcohol limit. If I’m your passenger I will get REALLY pissed–it’s my life you’re risking (not to mention yours).

3. People who can’t stop talking about their kids/grandkids. I don’t mind this sometimes (we’re all proud of our young’uns), but ALL the time gets boring. Don’t you have SOMETHING else to talk about?

4. FOX News. Nuff said.

5. People who act like know-it-alls, when they know nothing.

6. People who think they’re superior because they have more money than you.

7. McMansions. I wrote a whole post about how much I hate them.

8. People who block the aisle at Wal-Mart (and other big box stores and supermarkets). Usually, they’re in groups of 3-5, walking abreast and will not move if you want to pass them. Arrggh.

9. Office politics. It’s why I don’t work in an office anymore.

10. Stale Reese’s peanut butter cups. Blech. They’re awful. I love them when they’re fresh, but you can tell they’re stale when the chocolate’s soft and the peanut butter’s all dried out. The trouble is, you can’t tell until you open one if it’s fresh or stale.

Blogging drunk

Posted on October 7, 2014 by luckyotter

I’ve had almost three glasses of Merlot and I feel like the buzz just got vacuum-suctioned from my brain. See, I had almost finished a writing this post but in my half drunken state I hit some key I shouldn’t have and the whole thing was deleted, and the nice buzz I’d been working on was gone. I wanted to ram my laptop through the wall. I couldn’t get my post back so now I have to start over. I want to kick a puppy right now. And now I can barely type because although my mind is suddenly clear, my body is apparently still drunk.

I’m pouring a little more wine into my glass now and taking a sip. Aaaahhhhh! I must rewrite that post, but it won’t be as good as the first one, which was awesome. Arrrrghhhh!

So today I decided to get drunk. Now, I’m not a big drinker at all, and in fact don’t even like alcohol too much. It makes me feel sick and doesn’t give me the same pleasant buzz it did when I was in my 20s. Today, in my 50s, I can have just one or two drinks and stop. I drink very rarely and when I do I don’t care for it much. Back in my prime I spent a lot of time drunk and didn’t know when to stop. I even joined AA (and met Michael, my psychopathic sperm donor there) but evidently I was just a problem drinker and hadn’t crossed the line to alcoholism because according to their beliefs, a true alcoholic can never ever drink again because if they do, they will fall off the side of the sobriety ship, get abducted by Jack Daniels, whose goons will waterboard you with booze for all eternity. Well, anyway, that didn’t happened to me. The last time I got this drunk was on New Years Eve almost two years ago.

But today I decided I wanted to not only drink, but get drunk. I didn’t wake up wanting to do that though. There were important things to take care of.

I guess I need to provide a little background as to what motivated me to want to get sloshed. My 21 year old daughter Molly has had her share of issues. She was a rebellious teenager and her rebellion and rash, impulsive behavior hasn’t let up much since she was 15. I blame a lot of this on her dad and his ex-girlfriend, who took my then 12-year old daughter to drug parties where my girl developed a taste for the illicit and mind-bending.

I just finished my third glass of Merlot (the one I was refilling a few minutes ago) and just took a couple of hits of weed too, another thing I don’t indulge in much. I like to be clearheaded most of the time but today? Honestly, IDGAF.

Molly’s had a few run ins with the law–petty charges like shoplifing and a DWI. Back in April, when she turned 21, she received an inheritance from my father for $20K. My son received the same, but has spent his wisely on his education and camera and computer equipment so he can keep making films which he hopes get him into that industry (I never got any inheritance from my father but that’s irrelevant right now and I’ve talked about that before anyway). Within two months, the money was gone. Neither she nor I have any idea what happened to it, but she did help me pay a few bills and bought herself a used dark blue Honda Acura. The car is fine but needs a little work. Because Molly had a DWI the car was put in my name, and I would have to put it on my insurance and not allow her to drive it until she finished her probation requirements and her license was reinstated.

I’m not typing very well and spellcheck is sure getting a workout too because my fat drunk fingers are flapping around the keyboard like dead baby flounders. Please, dear God, don’t let me hit the delete key or whatever it was by accident again. >< (Does that smilie exist? It's supposed to be that face you make when you're frustrated beyond all reason and you squint your eyes real tight.) Yep, I'm feeling it.

So anyway back in July, about a week before her probation was up, Molly decided to break up with her boyfriend. It was her idea but she went batshit for about a month, laying in bed and not eating for a week (she is bipolar and has BPD), and then suddenly leaving–in the car she isn't supposed to be driving–and not returning for almost a week. Her psychopathic sperm donor texted me and told me she was hanging with a group of junkies and pushers and was shooting heroin herself and I had better do something ~~abou tit.~~ about it.

He was lying through his teeth. It was just him trying to start drama again in his psychopathic, sadistic way, but the situation with Molly was still concerning at the very least. That night she brought home a group of the kind of boys we call "skells" around these parts–according to the Urban Dictionary, a skell is basically a lowlife or redneck type of guy who sells drugs because they're really not otherwise employable. (I just had to go back and correct "employable" three times and twice on this quoted one). My daughter is very intelligent, far too intelligent for the type of company she keeps. So it turned out the guys were really only into weed and Molly had no tracks or marks on her arms and she looked okay. She said they were taking good care of her. I wanted to believe her, but of course I'm not stupid and I know they were very bad for her. But she's 21 and can do whatever she wants. I have no control over what she does. She seems to have no interests in a career or a future, but maybe she's not ready yet. I have to remember I was much the same way at her age (which has a lot to do with why I'm a 50ish unpaid blogger and former medical editor recovering from a bad marriage and currently obliged to clean houses for a living). God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.

But then she disappeared again, with the car. And I didn’t see her for three more days.

I’m pouring a 4th glass. Would you like some? Am I still coherent? Soon I won’t be able to type at all.

Instead of going into my usual panic of biblical proportions and imagining she had been abducted and taken into an abandoned field to be gang raped and strangled and left lying in a bed of tall weeds, I felt…angry. ~~dducted bductedd~~ (That was me trying to type ~~abdduted~~ abducted. (spellcheck said that was right). I decided to leave it there.

The car Molly was driving was in my name, under my insurance, and she was driving it illegally and not very responsibly. She was transporting God knows what sort of lowlifes in it. If anything happened I would be responsible and the car impounded, not to mention that I’d never be able to live with myself if something happened to her in it and I hadn’t at least made an effort to put a stop to it. So I went to the magistrate and filed a charge against her for a stolen vehicle. I hated doing this but I felt like if I didn’t something terrible might happen.

Now Molly’s basically a good kid, but she was ~~veyr~~ very angry with me, understandably. I finally agreed to drop the charges on her not because of her anger, but because she was almost done with her probation requirements (and she had been very good about paying her fines and doing whatever else they told her to) and I didn’t want her record to be further sullied. I made an arrangement to have someone else I trusted hold onto the car temporarily and agreed to drop the charges. In order to do that, I had to be back in court with her this morning.

Sometime last month the friend who was holding the car moved so had to return it, which means Molly has acces to it. I’ve given up trying to hide the keys. She’s returning it every night in pristine condition and seems more responsible but I keep warning her she is driving it illegally. Apparently she’s willing to take that risk. I didn’t change my mind about dropping the charges.

To make a long story short, she was supposed to be home this morning so we could go to court together without her having to drive–but guess what. When I woke up this morning she wasn’t here. I couldn’t call her either because she lost her phone (again). We were due in court at 9, and by 8:45 she still hadn’t shown up and it takes forever just to find parking at the courthouse. So I went there myself, stood in line, and told the person at the desk who I was and that I wanted to drop charges on my daughter. The officious lady at the desk said that would be fine as long as my daughter showed up but she was nowhere to be seen. And I had taken a day off work to help her out in court, and that’s not exactly something I can afford to do in the financial straits I’m in.

I drove home in a self righteous fury and that’s when I decided I wanted to drink today. I ~~thought~~ ~~rationalized~~ mused to myself, “we’re all entitled to indulge in some excess on occasion, and after all, I spend so much time and energy trying to always be good and having so little to show for it. Fuck that shit.”

I pulled into an Ingles supermarket and bought a jug of Merlot. Livingston Merlot, to be exact. It’s cheap and doesn’t taste too bad. It does the job, which is to get me pleasantly tipsy. Expensive wines drive me insane because of those goddamn corks which I always wind up mangling in my pitiful efforts to pry them out with a corkscrew or a damn fork if a corkscrew isn’t at hand. And then in my enraged defeat, I wind up pushing the entire mutilated cork down into the wine itself and then have to drink good wine peppered with stuff that tastes like sawdust (though I bet cork does add healthy fiber to your diet).

I picked up some of their delicious homemade chicken salad to go with the wine, because I knew if I didn’t eat anything I’d get sick, and I just wanted to get drunk, not sick.

Today may be the last day I have Internet service (though I will have it set up again soon and in the meantime I can always use the WiFi at the hipster coffee place, the library, or even freaking McDonalds or Bojangles) so I was cheered up a little when I got home from my useless morning in court and found the Interwebs still working.

I decided to blog about how furious I was at my daughter and get drunk while doing it. I could retreat into my own private little alcohol infused world in the comfort of my postage stamp living room and pretend to be fucking Dorothy Parker.

I’m almost finished with the Merlot jug and that’s it for me. I can’t type anymore (this sentence took ~~& 9 8 tries to get right) and my thinking is getting fuzzy.~~

Molly just got home and she said she was late to court because she overslept and had to go strauight there instread of coming home (spelling mistakes left intact) and then opn the way she ran out of gas (again! she is such a blonde!) but made it to court just after I left and the charges for unathorized use are now dropped.

She just noticed the wine and is now rolling on the floor in hysterics because of the face I just made at her that was supposed to look angry but just looked drunk and goofy.

Can you still understand what I’m writing?

Thank God she didn’t have her camera phone with her. If it was my son Ethan, he’d be filming my reaction and putting ~~init~~ it up on Youtube. And with my luck, it would go viral. “My crazy drunk mom trying to look angry”–43,864,301 views. I’m in that weird part of ~~Youtube~~ my brain again.

I’m so relieved my post is still here and my daughter is still okay. I’m so relieved I’m going to take a hot bath and then a nap and then wake up sober and eat a good meal.
Today wasn’t a disaster. I’m just an overstressed nutcase. I don’t have to drive anywhere today. It’s all good.

This is not a nice post.

Posted on October 2, 2014 by luckyotter

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.