Post deleted–this will be explained in my next post.
Thank you everyone for your prayers. 🙂 My daughter is fine–well, at least she’s not nearly as bad off as this post had said.
She and I were the victims of a very convincing psychopath (not her father). We seem to attract them like shit attracts flies. It’s hard to know who to believe when you’re dealing with a very skilled psychopath and a borderline narcissist at the same time.
I am so sorry. I feel so terrible tonight over what happened I might have to wait until tomorrow or the next day to blog. I don’t want this blog to turn into a diatribe about my own current despair over finding out my own daughter is a psychopath just like her evil father…even though this blog is first and foremost a private journal and self-therapy.
But I don’t want to spread my despair to others. I don’t want to ruin what I’ve started here. How could this be helpful to anyone? I know it will pass. But maybe for a day or two until I start feeling better (and take care of issues such as getting a restraining order against my own daughter) I won’t post anything much….maybe a photo of something if I feel like it. I just want to delete the Christmas photos now because they hurt too much to look at, but I guess I’ll let them stay. I just can’t look at them.
Please keep following my blog. As people damaged by narcissism we all suffer. I don’t hide mine very well. Thank you everyone who replied for all your support. It does help.
There’s no way I’m getting back to sleep tonight.
I don’t even care if this post looks good and I know it will be badly written too because I’m tired and so confused and upset I can’t think straight. I’m not even going to bother looking for a picture for this post. What the hell for?
What I’m about to describe is just one more incident in a long line of incidents in which my drug-addicted, emotionally disturbed daughter keeps trying to sabotage anything good that happens to her, and I place the blame squarely on the shoulders of her evil malignant psychopathic father for destroying her. Right now I feel like there is very little hope for her and there’s not a goddamned thing I can do to save her from herself.
I received a phone call at about 4 AM from her boyfriend, Paul. He said she was in some kind of drug induced state all nightand freaking out and then a van stopped by and picked her up and all her belongings. He thinks it was driven by one of her meth head friends. He also told me she had refused to clean up her Facebook account and remove the druggies from it. Some guy had sent her a picture of his penis and of course he was angry, but she wouldn’t delete him from her account.
I didn’t mention this, but earlier today I went out to Paul’s house again to bring some cake I’d forgotten to bring on Christmas and also because my daughter had called crying saying she needed to talk to me. She told me she was afraid of Paul and thought he was smoking crack. Now I can tell pretty well when someone is on drugs, and I saw absolutely no indication either today or when I was there over Christmas or any other time that he is on anything at all. But my daughter’s behavior has been extremely erratic since she got out of jail and he told me she hasn’t slept in 3 days. I have seen her like this before, and it always means she is either doing pain pills or some other heavy duty drug.
She said he was “attacking” her and she said she had it recorded on her phone. What I heard was a guy begging her to come out of the locked bathroom and telling her he loves her and to please come out so they could talk. All I heard from her were profanities and screaming. He explained (and I believed him) that she had locked herself in the bathroom to take pills and he was about to call 911 but finally she came out, but she was so out of control, throwing things and screaming that he had to restrain her. That was the “abuse.” I told her I didn’t think he was “attacking” her but doing what I myself have had to do when she gets in one of those drug induced out of control states. Then she blamed me for taking his side. I told her I loved her but I couldn’t believe anything she said anymore.
Also, when I was over there, she kept flicking a knife open and closed on her lap. I told her to put it away. It was very disturbing watching that. Her eyes looked wild.
I had given Paul some money from the rest of her settlement from the car accident she had in October and told him to hold onto it for her. He said he would put it into his account. At this point, I trust him more than my own daughter. He actually really cares for her and is scared for her. Unfortunately he wasn’t able to keep her from it and when she went off with these losers tonight she took all the money with her (it was about $1,000). No doubt she has spent it all.
He told me there was nothing more he could do for her and she couldn’t come back to his house in the state she is in. He thought their relationship would have to end. Today he was going to take her shopping (she never had a chance to go Christmas shopping because she was in jail) and then on Monday he was going to take her to a therapist. But of course none of that will happen now. He said he loves her but her problem is too far gone and he can’t be with her anymore.
My daughter has squandered her entire trust fund from my father that was meant for her to get an education, sabotaged any trust I ever had for her, and has now has sabotaged a relationship that actually looked promising with a man who truly cared for her, unlike the drug addled selfish assholes she has dated in the past. She has too many charges now to find or keep a job. It’s almost impossible to get a job at all if you even have one charge. Paul thinks he thinks she may be doing meth. If so, this beautiful, brilliant girl who once had so much potential will look like an old woman with no teeth in about a year.
I am done. I love my daughter dearly but I’m not going to enable her anymore. She called shortly after I spoke to Paul, crying but sounding high. She told me she needed to come home. I have a roommate now I need for financial reasons so I can make the rent and I am not going to kick out my roommate, who has been reliable with payments and helpful around the house. I absolutely will not go through what I went through with her a few months ago, when she was having her meth-head and pillhead friends over to the house when I wasn’t home, being picked up and dropped off at all hours of the night, and where every day I lived in mortal fear I was going to come home to find her dead of a drug overdose or the police were going to raid the house looking for drugs. I told her she could not come back until she got some help. She started crying saying I didn’t love her because I believed Paul over her. I told her she could believe whatever she liked but I can’t be part of this anymore. She needs tough love.
For awhile back in the summer, when she went through her last serious drug binge that had her gone for 5 days (and no idea where she was), and at one point out in MY car which she snuck out in the middle of the night (because she forgot where she left hers), I attended Al-Anon meetings, which is a 12-step program based on AA principles for the friends and families of alcoholics and drug addicts. I hade her committed to the hospital for rehab and she seemed better for awhile so I stopped going. But I think I’ll have to go back. I need strength right now not to give into her manipulations and guilt-tripping.
I don’t know if she’s a narcissist, or just a drug addict, or both, but I can’t have that behavior around me anymore. I love her but if she doesn’t get the help she needs, she will have to find somewhere else to stay, and if that means she has to live in a shelter, then so be it. It’s hard for me to do this as a codependent type of person with high empathy, but it’s all I can do. That and pray a lot.
I’m going to church early since I won’t be going back to sleep and try to spend some private time in prayer. I have very little hope for my daughter at this point and am trying to prepare myself for the worst. There is nothing I can do to save her.
Now I just got a text from her evil psychopath father who spends his entire disability check on weed that I’m at fault for believing Paul and not her and that if she winds up dead it’s all my fault. He wants her to keep her druggie friends because he can get his weed from them. (He told her not to delete them from Facebook). He doesn’t care about her at all and what’s more, she told me something on Christmas that makes me believe he raped her when she was 12 or 13. She thinks she blocked it out but I believe it.
I texted him back: Get off my back, I said. The next text I just ignored. Obviously she called him from wherever she is. He doesn’t even deserve to be alive. I wish he would just kill himself already like he always threatens to do. That’s how much I hate him.
Her goddamned malignant narcissist father was the one who destroyed her soul and will ultimately kill her. If that happens I don’t know how I can survive the grief.
I am done. I need to somehow disconnect myself. I might have to get a restraining order against my own daughter now. She needs all the prayers she can get right now.
Call me weird, but to me, mowing the grass is a very zen-like activity. When I start mowing, I get into a mental groove, and the repetition, strenuous exercise, the smell of the cut grass, and the satisfaction of seeing freshly mowed grass all combine to relax my spirit. When I mow the lawn, I don’t have to think about anything. My mind just sort of goes blank and I enter a peaceful place in my head as I push that machine back and forth. It’s very centering. I need that.
It’s winter. Why on earth am I thinking about mowing the grass?
Here in western North Carolina, it’s been cold, but not cold enough for the grass to stop growing. The past couple of days it’s been in the 60s. I noticed today the grass needs to be cut. It hasn’t been cut since October. I also need to clean my front porch, which is covered with leaves and other debris.
So tomorrow, after church (if it’s not raining, which weather forecasters are predicting) I’m planning to get out there with the mower and enter my zenlike space.
Besides having a nice looking lawn, I really need to spend some time away from this blog, doing something mindless yet enjoyable. So much has happened over the past few days concerning this blog–and then there was Christmas, which is always stressful even when it turns out as nice as it did for me this year. I just need to get back to basics and mow the damn lawn.
I hope it doesn’t rain tomorrow.
What kinds of activities relax and center you?
Words of truth!
Dear Mom and Dad,
I know you have found this blog, through the fake name I have been using on social media. For obvious reasons, I do not use my real name on social media for anything that is associated with this blog. This is not only to protect me, but to protect the privacy of people I write about in my posts, because what I write about those people is for the most part not complimentary.
I did not want you to know about this blog. Not yet anyway. Maybe someday. It’s gaining an online presence though so really, it was only a matter of time.
But since you do know about it, please allow me to explain my motives here and the reason why I am doing this.
When I disconnected from my ex (called Michael in this blog), I realized I was suffering from PTSD and intermittent deep depressions. My mind and spirit had been crushed into almost nothing. Malignant narcissists like “Michael” are evil to the core and can literally destroy your soul. It’s as much a spiritual disorder as it is a mental one. “Michael” very nearly turned me into someone like himself. I was one step away from developing “Stockholm Syndrome” and that would have turned me as evil as himself. There would be no turning back. I was very lucky to have the strength of will to get away when I did. Malignant narcissists have that ability. To steal your soul and turn you into one of them.
For almost a year now I have been working on myself and discovering the things that I thought had been lost forever (such as my ability to express myself through writing) had not been lost at all. But I felt lost and was still suffering from deep depressions, anxiety and hypervigilance. I plugged away at becoming independent, at thinking for myself for a change. I realized I needed therapy, but could not afford one.
I started reading a lot of blogs by others who had suffered abuse at the hands of a malignant narcissist or psychopath (which are pretty much one and the same). Many of those blogs were written by ACONS (Adult Children of Narcissists). I realized in my readings that my family of origin was very dysfunctional and well, narcissistic. It was what it was. I don’t hold that against either of you or have any animosity toward you, but I couldn’t hide from the truth about my origin.
One day I decided to start a blog, and its original intention was self-therapy. I wanted it to be public to form a sort of support group. I didn’t want to just make it a private journal because to me that feels like screaming into a void. Feedback from others, including professionals in the field of NPD and psychopathy who read my blog, gives me clarity on my own disorders and those of others who have damaged me. I also hoped my story might help others along the way to recovery and it appears that is starting to happen.
One of my caveats in starting this blog was complete and total honesty about both my marriage and my family of origin. There are things in this blog that you will not like reading and that you may disagree with. Some things may anger you. But this is my blog and these are my feelings. They may be incorrect, but they are still my feelings and impressions. If I were in therapy, these are the kinds of things the therapist would hear. This is public group therapy for me and why I don’t use my actual name.
It’s the best thing that ever happened to me, or rather, the best decision I ever made. I have learned incredibly things about myself in this undertaking, and one of the side benefits of this was that inadvertently, other people told me this blog has inspired and helped them deal with their abusers too. I am happier now than I have ever been and a lot less anxious all the time.
I feel like everything that happened–with “Michael” and all the school bullying and alcholism and other dysfunction in my family of origin (FOO)–was for a reason. Everything happens for a reason. I realized God wanted me to use these experiences to help other people. He wanted me to tell my story because so many others can relate and be inspired or given courage. In the process of writing this blog, I have found God and a church that I feel comfortable with. I will never be a fundamentalist Christian or take the Bible as a literal document, but I have also accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and personal savior. For the first time ever, I am understanding His presence in my life and the unbelievable things he is doing for me. He is the best friend I ever had.
I always thought God hated me. He does not. He loves me, and that’s why he gave me all those experiences–to teach me things about a devastating mental disorder called Narcissistic Personality Disorder as well as other disorders I have realized I suffer from. Not long ago, I realized I had Aspergers syndrome. I am self-diagnosed, but this was confirmed by a psychiatrist. It explains so much about my lifelong social awkwardness, difficulty making and keeping friends, and inability to read social cues. Things are getting better though, and through this endeavor, I am making new friends who truly understand me and what I’m all about. There are many people with Aspergers on the Internet, because the Internet is where most of us feel most comfortable expressing ourselves. I also suffer from PTSD (from being with “Michael” so long and allowing him to manipulate me because I wasn’t strong or courageous enough to leave or resist his games), but that’s getting better. I’m feeling less numb and am starting to enjoy life again and appreciate the simplest gifts God has to offer.
I have been getting letters and comments from other survivors who say this blog has helped them and that means so much to me that every time I read one of those I get tears in my eyes. I never thought I could be of any positive use in this world having too many issues of my own to deal with, but instead, by working through those issues publicly, I am helping others too.
This blog is gaining a presence, due to my determination for it to be successful. I try to balance all the seriousness with lightness and humor and the negative with the positive. I write about other things besides narcissism to keep it balanced. Recently, a writer who has written well known books in the field of narcissism has discovered my blog and has done me an enormous favor by pushing it out there on social media. I’m enormously flattered by this but it has brought me many more views than I would have without his help. This blog has also appeared on blogrolls and lists of resources for ACONS and victims of abusive relationships.
It’s only been over 3 months since the day I sat down and on a whim decided to start writing, but it’s taking off like firecrackers now. I’ve also been asked to write a review of a new book that is coming out and I will be writing a biography of someone important in the field. I was going to put that project on the back burner because I thought it was taking the focus off my own recovery, but I just was informed by another editor and writer that he wants to help me as far as obtaining interviews with my subject, who lives in a foreign country, and providing other information that will be helpful.
I’m not going to allow any of this to go to my head because I realize it’s not really me who’s doing this, it’s God directing me where I am supposed to be going. I give credit to God for all the great things that are starting to happen. Everything that ever happens to us is for a reason, and finally, finally I was ready to graduate from my “schooling” and DO something with all the lessons I learned.
My lack of success thus far has everything to do with allowing others to control me and being too afraid to think for myself and be completely honest. Now all that is going to change. Some people are late bloomers but they can still bloom.
This is God’s will for me, his way of using me in this world, and I am sticking with this until the day I die, or until He has another plan for me.
I realize some of this will be hard for you to read and may upset you. You may just want to skip over parts of it. Please try to realize these are just my feelings. This blog is about brutal honesty. I will hold nothing back. I won’t lie or sugar coat anything. I also will never make this blog private. It’s open to anyone who wants to read it. It’s not my intention to antagonize or anger anyone. I just want to be a whole person and writing about my experiences is cathartic and healing for me. It’s working.
Note to my Dad: actually, it was you who started me down the road to recovery when you sent me M. Scott Peck’s book, “People of the Lie,” which I have reviewed here on this blog. When I read it, like you, I recognized my ex for what he was, and even though it was years before I was able to totally disconnect from him (we call it “No Contact” in the world of narcissistic abuse), it was like a bright shining light I couldn’t escape from. It planted the seed for what was to come, and for that, Dad, I want to say Thank you.
To both of you: in spite of the things you may read here, I do love both of you. I wouldn’t be here today without you. You brought me into this world and taught me much of what I know, even though much of it was painful. I also rememeber good times too. Keep in mind, I started this blog due to “Michael” and his abusive mindgames, not as a way to trash my family of origin. He did the most damage to me, I am sure of this as I am sure the sun will rise tomorrow. But that’s okay because today I’m a better person for it.
I had a fabulous time at my daughter’s boyfriend’s home on Christmas, and wound up spending the night in the spare bedroom because we all had a little too much wine and there was no way I was going to try to drive home. I spent almost all day there, sleeping late and then straightening up (like the mom I am). We had a nice late breakfast (at 1 PM!) of eggs and sausages. This turned out to be one of the best Christmases I ever had, and not because of the wine either! The lasagna was perfect and my daughter seems to have learned a lot from her experience in jail.
But as nice as that all was, I’m still a homebody at heart and miss my own bed, my own things, and my own surroundings when I’m away from them. I miss my pets too. (my roommate was taking care of them). So as soon as I got home I got into some comfy yoga pants and a T-shirt and am lounging on my bed right now with my laptop, a delicious drink of blackberry juice and ginger ale, and leftover lasagna I brought home. There are two cats sleeping at the foot of my bed right now as I type this.
The holidays are finally over (I never counted New Years in the equation) and I’m at peace. I think I may read for awhile and turn in early. I’m exhausted!
I know I posted this not long ago, but this nails it.
I want to change my name.
I never cared much for my first name. It’s a name that was immensely popular in the ’50s through the early ’70s (not so much anymore), so it’s one of those dated, middle-aged sounding names that will become another “Ethel” in decades to come. Its commonality and genericness made me feel like an uncreative blob of genericness myself. It’s one of those names parents slapped on their kids because they weren’t visionary enough to think of something more unusual or exotic, or because they just didn’t care enough so they picked whatever was popular at the time.
It also sounded ridiculous with my maiden name, very singsongy. I used to get teased about it constantly as a child. Bullies actually used the ease of which my name could be turned into a little melody and used it to taunt me. I haven’t forgotten that.
I still use my MN-ex’s last name, only because I hate my maiden name even more and because it actually sounds better with my first name. It makes my boring first name seem a tad more exotic at least.
So I don’t like my name too much. And that’s an issue, because your name becomes associated with you as a person, how you are perceived by others, and how you perceive yourself.
I never perceived myself as my true self with my name. It’s a person I never was, a person who was forever trapped in a greenhouse of narcissism, a person with no confidence, no joy, a person who felt like a victim, like an incompetent member of the human race, a person who lived in a state of high vigilance, terror and depressions as deep as the Mariana Trench.
That person is still there, but there’s another person taking her place.
A person who has moments of joy and pride, a person who has emotions besides fear, despair and anger, a person who is becoming interested in life and living, can care for others again, is cobbling together a goal, has faith that God doesn’t hate me after all, a person who is starting to think life ain’t so bad after all.
The other day, I started a LinkedIn account. I never started one before because the whole idea of a “networking site” for “professionals” and its association in my mind with greedy, snobbish, narcissistic Yuppies and their later incarnations made me want to stick two fingers down my throat. And yes, part of that resentment had to do with my poverty and lack of professional success (once I married my psychopath). I have a low paying job but even though I still work there, I feel like that’s temporary and there are bigger things on the horizon, things that involve what I love most: writing. Especially writing about narcissism because it’s such a pervasive problem today and so much suffering could be alleviated just with being educated about it.
But I digress. So I started the LinkedIn account under my future self, as a sort of promise to myself that I’m still getting better. I described myself as “blog owner and writer,” which is really what I am. At first I used my real name, but then something happened that put the fear of God in me.
Both my parents have LinkedIn accounts. Other family members do too. I don’t want my family to find my blog, and they easily could if they saw my LinkedIn account.
What happened was I got an automated suggestion to add my father as a “contact.”
HOW DID IT KNOW???
THEN I got two views by “members who choose to remain anonymous.” Huh? Mommy? Daddy?
I was super creeped out. I am NOT ready for them to see my blog. I write about them a lot and most of what I have to say is not complimentary. Not that any of that matters, you see, because it’s not like they don’t already see me as a batshit insane, unmotivated LOSER who turned Bad Choices into a career, but I’m just…not …ready.
Immediately the solution came to me. I needed to use a fake name; if the damage wasn’t already done maybe I could avoid it being done. I chose “Lauren Bennett” because I like the name Lauren–it sounds like the name of a woman with emotional strength and confidence. It sounds young. It sounds like the name of a successful, happy person.
I chose Bennett because it’s a family name. Gotta give a shoutout to the family there somewhere, at least to those members who don’t bother you too much.
I notice the name makes me actually feel different. When I’m using it, I FEEL like Lauren Bennett, a confident, happy, successful, loving woman, a woman who doesn’t walk through life like the Cowardly Lion being waterboarded. My real name is not that woman. My real name feels like a me that isn’t me anymore, a me I no longer want to be or even NEED to be.
Changing my name would also make it a lot less likely to be found on the Internet by people from my past I don’t want to associate with.
So here’s my request. I need advice on legally changing your name. Also any advice on how much this would put me back. I’m living on an extremely tight budget.
My face is melting and my throat is full of sand. My eyes are gross and gummy. My hair is lank and greasy and my nose is raw as sushi. I’m hacking up unspeakable things.
Oh, wait, I feel a sneeze coming on. Ahhhhh—
Dammit! It’s one of those infuriating swallowed sneezes, you know, when you feel like you have to sneeze but it doesn’t come–or maybe your nose just emits a mouselike squeak . Non-sneezes must be one of God’s little practical jokes.
So, what was I talking about?
Oh, right. My danged cold.
I still had to work today (otherwise I lose my Christmas holiday pay) but I felt like I was dragging around a 100 pound weight as I moved around today, sniffling and sneezing and spewing my germs everywhere like Typhoid Mary. I took Dayquil to cope with the symptoms, but still felt horrible, and sleepy on the way home in the car from the medicine. (By the way, Dayquil will make you groggy, so drive with caution if you must).
I drank about a gallon of orange juice and popped vitamin C like a crackhead pops rocks, but all it does is make my bladder work overtime making bright orange urine, which I guess is the point since all that peeing is supposed to rid your body of the illness. Eventually. I’ve been eating so much canned chicken noodle soup I think I might lay an egg if I eat too much more.
In the meantime I have no choice but to power through this. Thankfully, day after tomorrow I’ll have a nice 4 day long weekend to relax and get better. I’ll be cooking my incredible (yes, I don’t mind saying so) spinach and meat lasagna at Paul’s house and my daughter will be home. I’ll also be baking a red velvet cake (with buttercream icing, not cream cheese, which I hate).
All my Christmas shopping is finally done and I’m anticipating a small but lovely Christmas dinner. I’ll still be glad when all this holiday business is over for another year.
As I sit here sipping my peppermint tea with honey, I’m dreaming of spring.
Once the stores start putting up the Valentines day merchandise (which happens the minute Christmas is over), I start to see spring on the horizon. Here in North Carolina (with the exception of last year, which was exceptionally cold for this part of the country), by the end of February it starts to warm up a bit and even a few of the trees begin to take on a pale green tinge. (Has anyone ever noticed, even before the green begins to show, in the very early spring the trees have a diluted form of the same colors they do in the fall?)
The days are already getting longer by one minute a day. By the end of January, it will be noticeable. Ah, spring. I can’t wait for you. I love you. I wish I could hibernate until then.
I hate everything about winter. The dark. The cold. The gloominess. The damned SNOW. But most of all I hate colds and flu. It’s getting late. Guess it’s time to take some Nyquil and rest my body for one more day of work until the long weekend.
But before I do that, I think I’ll take another eucalyptus bath and light my Silver Birch Yankee candle.
Lucky Otters Haven 