Category Archives: writing

This blog is growing. Yours can too.

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statsdec2014
Click graph to see more detail.

Now that I can finally crop parts of a screenshot, I can visually show my readers how this blog has done since I started it on September 10th. Its growth has been pretty steady and seems to be increasing fairly quickly, given this blog has only existed for 3 months.

The only anomaly in the graph is the huge spike in views during my second week–the week of September 15th. That was when OM from Harsh Reality reblogged my rant about being frustrated because no one was seeing my blog (I had 12 followers at that point and almost no likes or comments–I was a whiney and impatient noobie!)

Due to OM’s act of generosity, I got 354 views that day, which remained my Best Ever day until a couple of weeks ago, when I wrote my post about whether Sam Vaknin (self professed narcissist and writer of books about narcissism) was a narcissist or not. That article itself would probably not have been all that popular–except Sam himself saw it and commented, then he did the unbelievable; he linked it all over various social media–and that brought me a ton more viewers and about 15 new followers. That was the day I beat my previous Best Day Ever, with 541 views!

While things have died down just a bit from that HUGE spike, overall it appears this blog’s visibility on the web is still growing. I was tickled to death to find several of my articles (the more popular ones mainly) now showing up on the first 3 pages of Google, instead of way back on page 68 or something. They’re starting to show up on other search engines too.

Things new bloggers can do to increase visibility and views.

Blogging (1)

–Read OM’s blog.
I try to take all OM’s advice to new bloggers, and he does know what he’s talking about. I highly recommend his blog, which offers all kinds of advice to beginners and veterans alike. He follows new blogs all the time. He even occasionally offers bloggers the opportunity to “pimp” their blog on his site. Take advantage of it! Here is his blog. Do what he says–it does work.

–The title is everything.
I find it helpful to keep my titles “grabby.” Make them stand out. Make them a little controversial (“Don’t judge me because I’m poor”), a little confessional (“People think I’m stupid” or “I’m Frustrated”), or even pose a challenge to the reader (“My Son is Furry–Have a problem with that?”) Don’t try to make them too “nice”–then they will just be boring.

Keep your titles as short as possible. Never, ever write a title that sounds like a Ph.D thesis, such as: “Preternaturally narcissistic and sociopathic actions within the social media milieu: a paradigm of the interglobal loss of interpersonal altruism.” WUT?
Never, EVER use the word “paradigm” in a title. If you do that, I will personally come to your house and pour water all over your keyboard. That’s a promise. The same goes for “milieu.” Don’t use that word. Ever. No one even knows how to spell it anyway.

paradigm

–Keep your subject matter on topic as much as you can.
It’s alright to veer off topic to tell an anecdote or provide an example–in fact that can make your post seem more personal. But try not to veer off the topic the title promises too much. It’s hard to do sometimes, but if you do, always somehow bring the article back to your original topic, and it will look like you intended for it to veer off topic a little to make a point.

–Break up your text!
Readers don’t like walls of text. While a photo or picture isn’t required for a very short post, it can make it stand out more and look more appealing. If your post is very long, break it up. Use photos or pictures or quotes at appropriate intervals that illustrate the point of your story or article. It’s easy to Google images you want to use–just type the subject matter into the browser and click on Images, and you will find the perfect image to illustrate your article. That’s the way I do it. Your own photos or pictures are fine to use too.

Beyond that, break up your paragraphs into smaller, easier to chew pieces. Readers are not cavemen gnawing an entire flank of beef at once. They are civilized humans who like their steak cut into small pieces that can be picked up and savored one at a time. The same advice goes for paragraphs. Keep them bite size and they will be much more readable and taste better too.

–Use the share buttons!
Even if you hate social media (like I do), make sure each blog post contains all the social media share buttons available, which can be found in the dashboard. Even if YOU don’t want to link your post to them, OTHER people will use them. If they’re not there under your post, people probably won’t bother sharing your post. Share buttons are a lazy way of getting your post seen by many people, only you’re letting your readers do the work for you. Nothing wrong with that.

–Link to other blogs.
Linking to other blogs within your post creates a pingback: the writer of that blog will see that you quoted them, and will come and check out your blog. It’s more than likely that blogger will start following you back. Creating a blogroll (in Widgets) will help your blog too. It shows you read other blogs as well as your own, and the other bloggers will appreciate your support.

–Reply to the comments you get!
If you ignore your comments, people will lose interest in your blog. People don’t want to feel ignored. If you fail to answer your comments, it’s insulting to the reader who wrote the comment or asked the question, and it will seem like you don’t care. If you don’t want comments on your blog, you can always disable them, but I never understood why anyone would do that. All popular blogs are interactive blogs, where people can comment and lively conversations and debates can get started. It’s helpful to comment on other people’s blogs as well.

–Write frequently.
You should challenge yourself and try to write a post a day. If you can think of nothing to write about (I have those days), post a funny or attractive photo or a quote you like. If you don’t post frequently, people will stop visiting your blog. Sometimes I write 3-5 posts a day. You don’t have to write that many, but one post a day will keep your blog from stagnating like unmoving pond water.

–A few other things to remember.
If you’re a new blogger, don’t panic if things go slowly at first. Don’t get discouraged, frustrated or give up because at first it will seem like no one is reading your blog. It takes time. Becoming visible and getting lots of views and follows takes some people longer than others. The only reason mine seems to be growing faster than some new blogs is because of fortuitous visits by a person in the field I focus on (narcissism and psychopathy) who is somewhat well known and helped get my blog out there. I also write about a topic that happens to be “hot” right now. I don’t think the growth of this blog is because it’s “better” than any other–in fact I think there are many blogs that are much better written and more professional looking than mine.

I still won’t blog about my secret, but…

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emptybook

I did tell one person, a very good friend of mine–another blogger in the psychopathic/narcissistic abuse community, the exact nature of my secret. My confession was satisfactory enough to ease the itch I had to blog about it. She advised me not to, for basically the same reasons I had for not doing so.

We Aspies sometimes don’t say things even when we should. We know how awkward we seem to others and feel like it’s better to stay silent than sound like idiots, especially in the real, flesh and blood world of face to face communication.

Other times we say too much, especially on the Internet, a place where Aspies and INFJs and INTJs like myself abound (I’m either one of those depending which Myers-Briggs test I take), because we feel more comfortable socializing behind the anonymity of a computer and like the fact we can edit what we say before we say it. But there are times we Aspies still can get carried away with our candor and our filter goes on a Caribbean vacation. We just don’t know when to STFU. And we can find ourselves in a world of trouble because of that failure to censor our real feelings.

Back in 2008 and 2009, I was an active member of a certain entertainment related forum. At first I was a respected and popular member and then my virtual mouth developed a bad case of diarrhea. I had developed a crush on a person on the forum and was way too honest about it. Inevitably, a group of bullies and trolls on the forum smelled blood. They decided to use me for target practice, and soon even regular members started to join in. I was openly mocked and even started having problems with the forum administrator. I was nearly banned but wound up leaving of my own accord because posting there was no longer fun. My username became a pejorative, and to my horror, when I Googled my username, I discovered I was being quoted and mocked on two different but related sites, and their members were having a field day making fun of everything I said. I was mortified. It was as bad as being the school pariah all the bullies went after. It didn’t matter that I was essentially still an anonymous person on the Internet and no one knew my real name–I hadn’t felt that shamed or embarrassed since my days as the school dartboard.

The secret I have is actually not what it appeared to be at first. Now I understand the real reasons for it, and to my relief they are normal, healthy ones. It was really a springboard to something else. Strange things happen when you begin to journal publicly about something so personal as narcissistic abuse. One important side effect of blogging was I developed a closer relationship with God, who I rely on now to guide me in all my decisions, including what I blog about. I have prayed about this thing, this secret–and God is providing me with answers–including one I never expected.

An idea is beginning to form in my mind, an huge idea that could totally change my life and maybe the lives of others as well if I play things smart. Or it could lead to nothing other than an interesting venture into unknown territory. Doing this thing requires self-discipline, hard work, passion, and dedication. I’ve never stuck with anything before. I’d become intensely interested in something, and then drop it when it became too hard or frustrating, or when my interest in it burned itself out. That’s one of the reasons I’m still floundering through life like a teenager even though I’m over 50.

That’s all changing. I’ve stuck with blogging now for three months and show no signs of stopping. I’m passionate about blogging. It’s my new drug of choice. Because it’s become so much more than just a way to journal publicly about my experiences with narcissism. Watching my blog do so well and watching it grow and knowing it’s helping others besides just me is raising my self esteem so I no longer hear my N mother’s accusation of “loser” or “you can’t succeed” bouncing like a poisoned ping pong ball inside my brain anytime I tried something new. My entire viewpoint on life is different. I feel like I can do things, accomplish something important, and even help others while I make myself happy. Hey, I might not even have to remain poor and underemployed the rest of my life, something I had actually become resigned to. For years I’ve taken it for granted that I would die in great pain, alone and destitute, and no one would care.

There’s a certain topic related to narcissism I desperately want to write a book about. After I wrote my “Secrets” post, after a few days this book idea began to form. I tossed the idea around in my head for a few days and am waiting for some further information before I start, but even if I don’t get the information I’ve requested, I still want to write the book. It will make it harder but I can still do it. I feel like it’s something I must do, but not only that, I’m convinced it’s also what God wants me to do. I have no idea what his reasons would be for my writing this book, but then again, God doesn’t usually explain his reasons. It isn’t until later on that we find ourselves surprised to be in places we never dreamed we’d be in our wildest fantasies.

I have a good feeling about this. Not an unrealistic, grandiose fantasy that never sees the light of day because you either don’t have a real passion for it or have no practical plan to carry it out–this time it’s a real plan that I know I can fairly easily turn into reality. I think I can stick with it this time too, because it’s where God has been trying to lead me my entire life–but I couldn’t hear him because of all the noise inside my head.

The last time I wrote a book–a novel–I made the mistake of letting my MN mother read it. She hated it, so it went in a box in the back of my closet and I didn’t write another thing (except forum posts) until I started this blog. Recently I pulled the manuscript out of its box and read parts of it. It really was cringe-worthy, but in 2003 I was coming from a very unhealthy mental space and besides, fiction writing isn’t really my thing, so.

I know this post doesn’t make much sense, because I’m trying to write about something obliquely and it’s hard to be clear when you’re being oblique.

But the important thing is I have decided to use the writing ability God gave me and use it to write a book about something I’m deeply interested in. I still have self doubt, a lot of it, but I won’t let anyone or anything let me give this up.

PS: my laptop was acting weird while I wrote this, and I just realized I typed the whole thing in airplane mode. 😀

Nano Poblano is over. Wow, what a ride.

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nanopoblano

I wrote 85 posts in November, which is almost 3 per day!

When I first started this blog, I thought writing every day would be a chore and I wouldn’t be able to think of enough ideas to keep the blog going. Like so many other things I’ve undertaken, I thought blogging might engage my interest for a few weeks and then I’d become bored or frustrated and give it up.

But that hasn’t happened. In fact, the more I write, the more I want to. It’s self-perpetuating. Writing has always been something I love to do, but I had gotten away from it for a long time. So long I thought I might have forgotten how to write.

But writing is like riding a bicycle. You don’t forget how. As a matter of fact, my writing has improved a lot since I’ve started this blog. At least I think it has.

Writing is one of those creative endeavors that if we persist at it, even if it’s a chore at first, eventually it will no longer seem like work and become a form of play. The words now flow faster than I can type them out on my screen and I’m constantly thinking of new things to write about. I never expected that.

Nano Poblano helped with that a lot. I wasn’t even trying to meet the challenge–I just couldn’t stop writing.

But now I need a short break to catch up on my reading for a change. It’s great to write every day, but writers also need to balance that by reading the writing of others. It keeps us from becoming too self-indulgent in our own writing, which I worry might be happening.

I won’t be gone long. Probably not even 24 hours. Soon enough there will be something I’m just itching to write about. It might even be tonight. But I’m going to try to resist the temptation. I may even go to bed early for a change.

Ever have one of those days…

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…where you just don’t feel like writing anything? I’m having one of them today. I’ve found they happen just after I write a “big” post about a major issue in my life. It’s as if I need a few days to decompress and get my creative mojo back. I feel guilty if I don’t write, so I’m posting this so at least I can say I wrote something.

I decided to add a poll to flesh this out a little more, plus I’m genuinely curious about other bloggers’ writing habits.

This is what I was born to do.

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borntodothis

Writing has always been what I’ve excelled at more than anything else, but because of the emotional and mental damage done to me by my psychopaths throughout my life, I never pursued it seriously and always felt I didn’t know what I should be or do. At an early age I started to believe I wasn’t much good at anything anyway.

These are the lies and half lies that were told about and to me by the various psychopaths who got to control me (some are based on half truths):
1. Suzanne is smart, but will never excel at anything because she doesn’t apply herself (true, but I didn’t apply myself because I was told I couldn’t do anything).
2. She is too sensitive to make it in this world (you can be sensitive and be successful).
3. She doesn’t make friends easily because she has a terrible personality (I am shy and not very social but I do not have a terrible personality).
4. She’s negative and lives on the pity pot so she will never achieve anything (this has been true at times).
5. She’s lazy and unmotivated and always gives up (see # 1).
6. She doesn’t stick with anything long enough to get really good at anything (see #1).
7. No one wants to be around Suzanne because she’s such a Debbie downer (depression and PTSD caused by being abused by psychopaths).
8. She isn’t any good at office politics (This is true).
9. She should have become a nurse or a teacher because then she’d always have a good job. (I am totally unsuited for nursing and teaching).
10. If Suzanne was thinner she would be more successful and get better jobs (I have never been seriously overweight so this is a lie).
11. If Suzanne smiled more people would like her better (probably true, but smiling doesn’t come second nature to me–I am working on that).
12. She’s stupid and has no common sense (I am not stupid but it’s true I can be a bit of the “absentminded professor”)
13. She’s insane (insanity implies someone who isn’t aware of their own actions or motives or is deluded–I suffer and have suffered from major depression, C-PTSD, autism and avoidant personality disorder. These are not “insane” diagnoses).

You get the idea.

yousuck

The closest I ever came to having a writing career were my two jobs as an editor–I was a technical writer and editor back in the late 1980s, then became a copy editor and later associate editor for a medical journal from 1989-1991. My job included writing a one page regular column, and I also used to write freelance reviews for self help and pop psychology books. These were all good jobs but none paid well. But honestly, I didn’t really like what I was doing (except for writing the book reviews). It was a very corporate environment and there was a lot of office politics so I was never 100% comfortable there.

After moving to North Carolina in 1993 after my second child was born, I never again had a job even remotely related to publishing or writing, and I thought I never would again.

I wrote a novel in 2003 but it was rejected by several publishers (and my narcissist mother said she hated it and I wasn’t ready to write a novel) so I put it in a box in the back of my closet and never looked at it again. It embarrassed me. So from then on I limited my writing to posts on forums or comments on other people’s blogs. I believed I had forgotten how to write, and even worse, I thought I lost my creativity. I never seemed to be able to come up with ideas anymore. What was really happening was I was so terrified of failure (and so brainwashed by my abusers that I always would fail) that it was just safer to never try anything new or take any risks. If I never tried anything, then I couldn’t really fail, could I? Why have ideas if you’re never going to act on them?

That’s faulty logic though, because if you never try anything new, accept a challenge, or take a risk, you may not fail at any activity but you will fail at life, and that’s a lot worse.

One of the benefits of freeing myself from the psychopaths in my life is occasional unexpected bursts of inspiration, and that’s how this blog came to be. Now that I write something every day, my creative muscle is strengthening and I feel like new ideas pop into my head several times a day now. I thought I’d have trouble even coming up with one post a day, but most days I have ideas for two or three. Blogging is something I should have started years ago; it might have led to something bigger and maybe even become a career.

But you know what? There’s no reason why it still can’t. I feel like I finally found my purpose after so many years of feeling like a lost ship without a rudder. I have a good feeling about it.

writer

Blogging drunk

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drunkwriter

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.

Furries revisited.

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furriesposter

I read my stats every day, and by far my most popular article was “My son is furry–got a problem with that?” I have a few theories as to why this is so.

1. It tells a story that promises to be a bit unusual and maybe controversial (a mom who actually approves of her son’s furriness).
2. Furry is controversial in and of itself — lots of people hate them or misunderstand what they’re about.
3. Furry is trendy and cool, especially among young people.
4. The title, I must admit, is great–it’s one of my best titles ever. It’s grabby and sassy and promises to be a little controversial and a little personal and maybe even a little juicy; and there’s also an implied challenge there too for those who dislike furries (got a problem with that?)
5. It includes a video and a cool original photo.
6. Furries are adorkable. (I love ’em).
7. The article is neither too short nor too long.

Now, all that being said, there’s another reason why that article got so many hits. I have a Twitter account which I use primarily to talk to my son, who spends a lot of time there. My son has close to 2000 followers, and most of them are furries, so when I posted the link to Twitter (I link all my articles to Twitter) a ton of his fur-riends wanted to see what I had to say about their friend and also what his mom thinks of him being a fur. It’s a built in audience. If you look at the Twitter button under the article you can see it was linked to Twitter again about 28 times by an army of furries clicking on the Twitter link so it has a huge presence there. It was also linked to various Facebook accounts a number of times too. My son is a little embarrassed by this endlessly circulating article but also seems tickled pink that he’s getting so much attention and has achieved a level of Twitter “fame,” at least among other furries. It gives him a presence in the fandom, and his dance comp video has received many more views now too.

Outside of that, my most popular articles are the ones about narcissists and psychopaths. That’s understandable, given that’s the focus of my blog, and most of my followers are people coming out of abusive relationships with narcs and psychopaths, or just people interested in the ugly and soulless side of human behavior.

But the only other article that received anywhere near the amount of attention my furry article did was my “I’m Frustrated” noobie manifesto which OM was kind enough to reblog and as a result I was so busy with likes, new followers, and comments that day I could barely find time to go to the bathroom! Things have died down a bit, but due to his kindness I never again have logged on in the morning after posting a new article only to find nothing but crickets and tumbleweeds.

Third in popularity was my rant, “Don’t judge me because I’m poor.” Now, I’ll be honest–I didn’t expect that to be a popular article. It’s a depressing topic and I used a sad picture. But I guess a lot of bloggers can relate and poverty, like narcissism and furries, is a hot topic these days I guess. And it has a sassy title that contains a challenge.

The biggest lesson from all this I’ve learned is that titles do matter. A title that is short, a little sassy, a little controversial, and promises a personal confession of some sort seem to get the most hits and likes.
It helps if the article lives up to its grabby title too.

I also have to admit I’m hoping the reference here to furries gives me another little Twitter boost.

How writing every day has changed me

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journaling

Before I started to blog, I was stuck in a quagmire of self pity and resentment. Most of you know I’m a survivor of abuse and hence suffer from depression and PTSD as a result of my abusers’ mental and emotional shenanigans and mindgames.

Even though I disconnected from my abusive ex-husband almost a year ago, my negative thinking patterns remained. Every day was the same as the one before; I was bored with my life and bored with myself, and felt like there was nothing else to look forward to, ever. I felt like I had lost my writing ability, creative vision and intelligence. I tried praying and it wasn’t helping very much–because the faith in myself and my future wasn’t there. It just seemed like a waste of time.

For a long time I had wanted to blog, but several things were stopping me: first, I was terrified to find out I may have forgotten how to write (since I hadn’t written anything besides a forum post in years). Second, blogging seemed like something you had to have computer or technical savvy to do. People told me WordPress and Blogger were hard to use, and I assumed they were right and that I was too stupid to learn (because I really truly believed I lost my ability to learn anything new). Finally, I couldn’t seem to get motivated. I was stuck in a rut and wanted out of it badly, yet couldn’t seem to pull myself out of the murky quicksand of my own ennui.

I really thought there was no place for me in this world and that I was simply too old, too tired, too dumb, and too boring to make any sort of meaningful impact on the world or even on just a few people. Actually it turned out I wasn’t any of those things–people with depression and PTSD often feel this way about themselves.

I thought about suicide because the prospect of just getting up every morning, going to my boring, low paying job, coming home, spending a couple of hours on other people’s websites before turning into bed, then having to repeat the same thing the next day and the next day and every day for the rest of my life until the pain of illness and old age finally took over was something I just didn’t want to face. But as depressed as I’ve been, I’ve never seriously entertained the idea of suicide because, well, I’m just too scared of it. Death scares the shit out of me. Not so much the state of death itself, but the process of dying.

But guess what? I was already dying. I was walking around like a dead person, spiritually and emotionally numb.

But writing has changed all that.

One day about a month ago, some spark of motivation came out of nowhere and momentarily penetrated the stagnant murk inside my brain. I don’t know if it was God, or the better part of myself doing it but it doesn’t matter because there it was like the beam from a lighthouse first seen in a stormy sea. Rather than ignore it or tell myself I’d act on it later, I didn’t even think about it, I just obeyed it. I opened up my laptop, found WordPress, and immediately set up my blog. It was much easier than I’d been led to believe, and by my third article I felt like I knew what I was doing.

There’s been no turning back, and I feel so much more alive and optimistic about my future and what I can contribute to the world. Blogging is certainly helping me, but maybe I can even help others too. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I have a purpose, a place in this world, and that I’m here for a better reason than just marking time until death and have more to offer than just providing an example to others of how not to live their lives (which is something I used to really believe).

But writing is a discipline, and sometimes I have to talk myself into it. It was hard at first to commit to writing one post a day. But for the most part I’ve not only managed to write a post a day, but sometimes two or three a day. I find that rather than being a chore(as I had feared), the more I write the more I want to write, and the ideas just keep coming. I thought I had no ideas. I was so wrong.

Waking up from the nightmare

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Woman Looking at Reflection

So after 28 years of narcissistic abuse I finally felt free. Before, even though there were periods where we hadn’t lived together, I never felt completely free of Michael’s toxic influence. But my daughter Molly and I were quite literally survivors and both of us had psychic wounds that ran deep and would take years to heal, if they could ever be healed at all.

My job (which I still have) doesn’t provide health insurance so I couldn’t afford to pay for a trauma therapist, but I started reading everything I could about NPD and PTSD/C-PTSD (the type of PTSD that’s associated with abuse). Molly still didn’t want to go to therapy but was still getting her meds for Bipolar and she was in a fairly stable relationship and was no longer getting into trouble the way she used to. She was also beginning to understand why I did some of the things I did and acted the way I had, and I learned she too had a lot of anger toward Michael.

But things were not perfect between us either and we did continue to argue from time to time, and when she was angry, she liked to bring up the fact I had given up custody of her to DSS even though at other times she says she understood it was the only thing I could do at the time and it did save her life. So I don’t let those occasional attacks bother me too much. I know it’s manipulation. Sometimes I think she may have NPD herself, but she does have a conscience and empathy so more likely she just has narcissistic traits which are common people with Borderline PD.

So in March I had to go to court and testify against Michael in order to obtain a permanent restraining order (the one that was issued at the magistrate was good for only 1 month). I was working with an organization that helps abused women and their families, and they counseled me on what to say in court. It was ridiculous I had to jump through all these hoops just to obtain a piece of paper to keep a man I wasn’t married to anyway away from me and my property, but it was what it was.

I knew I had a good case and no reason to be worried but I was still terrified of having to face him in court. Michael is very glib and has a lot of charm when he wants something. He can make himself sound like a victim and make the other person sound like the devil himself. He managed to be surviving pretty well in the men’s shelter, although he told Molly when he saw her how much he hated it and wanted to come back. He also made her go buy him things, which she would do. She felt guilty and caught in the middle between the two of us. It wasn’t fair to her.

Ethan came to visit in early March (on his way from Illinois to his new apartment in Florida–he graduated college in January and is is seeking work in film editing or something related). He wanted to make sure Michael was not going to show up. I assured him he wouldn’t. We had a fantastic time, but he said when he tried to call his father, Michael didn’t want to see him. For some reason he thinks Ethan was the one who convince me to kick him out of the house. No matter how much he’s told Ethan had nothing to do with it, he still blames him for brainwashing me. Huh? Talk about blame-shifting.

I had to write everything I wanted to say in court because I knew my mind would go blank when I had to get up at the stand and talk about why the restraining order should be extended. The big day was in mid-March. Several other cases were heard first and I avoided looking behind me because I knew he was there. I could feel his eyes burning holes into my neck. Finally I was called to the stand and presented my case. I didn’t cry (because it’s really hard for me to cry anymore) but I was trembling and my voice was shaking from fear. The judge had to keep asking me to speak up. I studied her expression but it gave nothing away.

writing

Michael was called up after me and gave a ridiculous story about how Molly had hit him first and he gave her a black eye in self defense (which is total BS because he didn’t have one mark on him). He gave some other lame
“reasons” why he needed to move back but since he really didn’t have a good reason, they didn’t fly with the judge. In fact, he was almost laughable and seeing the manipulation from more of a distance now, he seemed so transparent. Although I hated him, I almost felt sorry for him.

I won my case and the restraining order was extended for one year. The counselor from the women’s organization that had been working with me gave me a validating hug. I went home feeling lighter than I had in a long, long time.

Michael wasn’t done with me yet, but since I was no longer supplying his narcissistic goodies, his attempts at revenge were rather lame. He did things like trashing me on Facebook, saying what a horrible wife and mother I was and how he wished he never met me. He threatened suicide over and over again. I was kind of embarrassed for him, but because of it I stopped using Facebook, which I wasn’t using much anymore anyway because my mother and other family members had found me there (even though I had changed my first name a little to throw them off).

I had to adjust to my new life. For several months I just tried to take things easy, not get involved in too many new things. I read a lot of books, mostly about NPD, malignant narcissism and personality disorders in general. I read a lot of other books too, and started researching all these disorders online and reading a lot of blogs and forums.

I started making glass, mirror and ceramic suncatchers on weekends and have tried to sell some of them. Mostly I just make them for pleasure though. They also make great gifts. I have several of them on my porch and I love watching the way they catch the light and send colored prisms everywhere.

suncatcher10

But writing has always been the one thing I know I’m best at, yet somehow I couldn’t bring myself to write anything beyond a forum post. It just seemed like too much work, and I was afraid I’d forgotten how. I feared I was no longer as smart as I used to be. I didn’t realize at first these numb and dumb feelings were symptomatic of C-PTSD. I knew if I ever did write again it would be to tell my story, but I had no idea where to begin. It all just seemed overwhelming. I thought about blogging but I was afraid it would be complicated and technical, and I still didn’t know what to write about or where to begin.

I re-read M. Scott Peck’s book “People of the Lie,” which I have reviewed in this blog, and realized Michael was not just narcissistic, but was truly evil. Despite it’s medieval connotations, I believe evil and evil people really do exist, and I was very lucky that I survived and both children survived. While most evil people don’t usually murder (they want to maintain their benign appearance), they are murderous and often drive others to suicide or self-destruction. They lie about everything.

I joined a gym and got back in shape. My job is also physical and that keeps me in shape too. I started liking what I saw in the mirror again. I also started meditating, something I started back in the ’90s and then stopped.

About a month ago I revisited the idea of blogging, inspired by some blogs I had seen by other survivors through my readings. On a whim I decided to start one. There’s been no looking back. At first it was meant to be self-therapy, a sort of online journaling, but now it’s turning into so much more and a few people have even said they feel inspired and it’s helping them too. And that makes me feel good. It makes me feel like I still have a purpose in this world and am not just marking time until I die. I want to think that everything that happened to me happened for a reason and that something good can come out of this.

I still have a long way to go, and as soon as I can I want to start seeing a trauma therapist. In the meantime life isn’t unbearable anymore. It’s getting better.

About a month ago Michael was kicked out of the apartment an organization called OctoberRoad was providing for its mental patients. My daughter allowed him to live in her car. He left the windows open during a rainstorm one night and the car was nearly destroyed. She took the car keys away and she hasn’t heard from Michael since, which is very odd, since he would call her up to 10 times a day to demand things.

She has no idea where he is. We think he may have killed himself. She wouldn’t have been notified because she had his wallet in her car and there’d be no way anyone could identify him.

Michael was having his mail sent to the house, which I did allow. After three previous rejections, Michael’s SSI finally came through — and that includes several years of back payments, so he is getting a check for about $30K.

If he is dead, how ironic that it happened just as he finally had a means to be independent and no longer had anyone he could use and abuse. Maybe that was the only reason he stuck around so long–as long as he could use up and destroy others. With that opportunity taken away, and with no real self to fall back on, there was no longer any reason for him to live. Or maybe he was finally forced to look in the mirror and all he could see was an endless black void, and that was just too much to handle. What he has been reduced to is just a shell of what he used to be, but was there ever really anything there?

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo

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hashtag

Tonight, I’m mostly reading other blogs instead of adding to this one, but I made a promise to myself to post something original at least once a day. I’m sticking with that promise. I can always think of something to write about.

Okay, so tonight it’s Twitter. I mainly use Twitter to talk to my son, who can almost always be found there. Besides checking in on my kid, Twitter is also useful for quick announcements and promoting something you posted elsewhere. In general though, I think Twitter is rather silly and shallow (and doesn’t allow for creative writing), but it has its merits: being forced to edit your thoughts down to 140 characters or less does oblige you to get down to the essence of what you want to say. That can be a great exercise for writers like me who tend to be too verbose. Just get to the bones of it. Sometimes what you want to say can be more effective stated without all the fat.

I usually think #hashtag games are dumb, but someone started a new one this morning, #TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo. Besides being fun (and addictive) I’m surprised to find how it’s helping me gain clarity about my current situation and the choices I made. Rather than regretting those choices, I can extrapolate from that 10 years into the future and gain insight on what I need to do now, which means I may be much more careful about choices I haven’t yet made.

Mine:

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo That book you just read? Don’t donate it to Goodwill.

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo put a parental lock on MySpace

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo Be very careful what you start posting on the Internet in around 2008-9.

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo Don’t start that Facebook account in 2008. You will come to regret it.

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo That walkie talkie you and ____ think is so cool? A cell phone would be better

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo your son will come out as furry in 4 years. Take more interest in his interest in cartoons

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo your boss is actually a horses ass who will fire you in 2009.

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo those suspicions you have about your son being gay? They’re correct.

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo just because you couldn’t get your book published and your mother hated it doesn’t mean your writing sucks

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo you have not lost your intelligence or talents. You have PTSD. Get help for that.

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo Katrina is happening in a year. Actually send that money to the relief fund.

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo start watching American Idol this year, but stop watching it after 4 years. It does not get better.

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo your not too old to make something of yourself. In 10 years you might be.

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo stop worrying about your son. He will turn out better adjusted than anyone else in the family

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo In 2005 you will say something stupid to your father. Don’t.

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo Use some of that tax return you get in 2005 to learn web design and start a blog now. WordPress is not hard.

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo start meditating now.

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo you’ll still be poor but at least you’ll age well and still look pretty much the same

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo stop worrying about something happening to the kids. They’re still alive in 2014

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo A violent act is NOT necessary to obtain a restraining order. Do it now.

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo you need to write something every day. No excuses.

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo You need to get FULL custody of BOTH kids. Your dad paid for a lawyer–use it.

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo don’t let your daughter convince you to let her live with her dad. She needs to live with you. So what if she hates you now.

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo Don’t listen to his sweettalk and promises. They’re lies. You need to cut him off now.

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo Start a blog now. Stop wasting time on forums.

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo all that postgrunge playing on the radio right now is rock music’s death rattle.

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo by 2010-11, Top 40 radio will be unrecognizable.

#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo stop complaining about the price of gas. It will be 3 times higher by this time next year.

Not mine, but I love this one:
#TweetAtYourself10YearsAgo On 9/23/14, send a tweet to yourself 10 years ago using this hashtag to close the causality loop I just created.

I’m inviting readers to join in. This game really makes you think.