Holidays

It has been a long time since I have posted anything. Might be the one month vacation that dearly beloved and I went on. It was much needed after my breakdown and the ongoing onslaught of a dying narcissistic mother. Just before I left she called me and was screaming at the top of lungs over the phone. “You need a second opinion, you need another doctor!” “If you have been in counselling all your life and you are not better you need another doctor!” “Listen to me! I’m your mother!” Right after that she dropped the phone and ran to the bathroom with all her medications. Her flying monkey friend picked up the phone to tell me that my mother had locked herself in the bathroom with all her meds and was going to kill herself. Sigh. Just another day in the crazy world of narcissists.

I do have a new doctor and a new med regime which is working like magic. I no longer have night terrors, or extreme panic attacks. My moods are even without highs or lows. I am not stressing or having huge pendulum swings of anxiety. Mirtazapine is apparently a drug now being used for PTSD and it is really working for me. I take it along with risperidone and cipralex. I never knew it was possible to feel like this. This is what I have been missing all my life. This is what was denied to me. I am loving every minute of not wondering and worrying about every blessed thing in my life.
I came home from my holiday to host a pot luck dinner at my home. Now the planning for this event is going on while I am away. I have a house sitter who is inviting people to my home at the same time. Major anxiety inducers and yet nary a peep from my adrenal glands. I came home and made cabbage rolls, shopped, etc. get ready to have 18 people for dinner. I didn’t stress one bit and it was a smash success.  Oh yes, I even put up a tree and did some minor decorating. The first time in five years. Great progress. I even waited 4 days before I called my mom and haven’t called her since. I don’t even feel guilty. The holidays are definitely different than they have been in the past. I am actually enjoying them. Hallelujah!

Mom was diagnosed with multiple myeloma a few months ago. She moans, and whines, and complains, and cries about how sick she is. She is always dying and on the verge of death. I don’t care to hear it. I ask her how she is doing and she always starts with “Well, I have cancer, you know…”, like I somehow forgot after being told a bazillion times. I have no patience or tolerance for her self-pity any more. What growth.

Now the hard stuff. While I was away there were four messages left for me by my doctor. I went to see him a week after I got home. It seems that I have some proteins in my urine call Bence-Jones proteins and they should not be there. 80% of people with these proteins have multiple myeloma. The other 20% have other forms of cancer. So he sent me for a repeat to make sure it wasn’t a mistake or a “one off”. I don’t have the results yet. The waiting and fear is causing great anxiety and worry shifts. What if it is, What if it isn’t? I am trying very hard to be mindful and stay in the moment. My support network is keeping me very busy so I have little time to be by myself and think. They are awesome and making this difficult wait so much easier.

On a different emotional level I am angry at my MNM for passing these genes on to me. I know she didn’t do this on purpose, but almost everything bad or difficult in my life has come from her. Why didn’t pass on her singing voice instead. I know, petulant and self-serving. Yet I must work through this a step at a time and unjustified anger seems to be one of the steps. You just have to be angry at something and she is a suitable target.

I am starting DBT in January, I have a new psychiatrist (which I had before the scream fest and only because I moved and not because I needed a new one) and a new drug regime. I am hopeful that the tests are an error but whatever the case I have decided that I will Live, Love, and Laugh myself through the rest of my life. The illness will not define me. Just as I will no longer let PTSD, Anxiety, and OCD define me. I am going to make people smile and laugh which makes me smile and laugh. Mismatched socks, mismatched earrings, a blue streak in my hair, long skirts, sparkles, etc. I am going to do my best to make everyone laugh and be happy. This is not the end.


Psalm 23:4
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

Psalm 118:6
The LORD is with me; I will not be afraid. What can man do to me?

Isaiah 41:10
So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Scattered Leaves

I have so much more to write, but the memories and events have come so fast that they blow around in my mind like the winds of fall that scatter the leaves. You run after them to catch them, thinking you are crafty and quick, but they are smarter and dance off in a different direction. Just like life. Just when you think you have it figured out and it goes a different way. One you never imagined or one you never wanted. But it is. And it gets dealt with in a clumsy, inexperienced and bumbling sort of way and we live to face the next dance. With a narcissist, there a many dances. The dances even change mid song. You can never learn the steps.

I saw a psychologist this week and she asked me why I still see my mother or even wish to. What was I hoping to get out of it. I told her I really had no idea. That maybe it was simply what people do. How cruel to let someone die alone. I said maybe I was trying to get a glimpse of who my mother really was. To see behind the mirror. My answers were as empty as our relationship.

They psychologist looked at me and said, "You won't find her. She is gone; if she ever even existed. Abuse done to the extent that causes one to become like my mother completely destroys the person and erases from the mind who they were. She was gone the moment this event took place. You can't find her. The best thing is to let go and walk away.".

I don't know how to do that. I want my mother. I want to make it okay for her. I want her to know that someone loves her despite what has happened. But she is apparently incapable of understanding love. I don't get it. Love can move mountains. Can it not heal a broken mind? A mother's mind? My mother's mind?

This journey veered off course and has left me lonely, and empty.  I am hollow. A mother sized hole in my psyche, my body. I did not expect his.

Rejected Again

Rejected Again

My mother is dying. She has been dying for as long as I remember, but now; she is really dying. A dying malignant narcissist sociopath is said to be one of the most dangerous kinds of people that exist. To that I reply, “Then you never met my mother.”

Dying narcissistic sociopaths go on a rampage when they are dying. They are envious of your talents, your health, your age, your everything; and they want to take it from you. It belongs to them and you can’t have it because they deserve. How dare you rob them of the very things they desire. They will take your life given a half-second of opportunity. My mother again, came close to succeeding.

A few weeks ago I ended up in the psychiatric ward of a local hospital suffering from emotional exhaustion. I just couldn’t stop crying. The badgering from my MNPD mother tossed me to and fro and around and around. Spinning head? That hardly begins to describe what was going on in my head. The force of an F5 tornado may be close. I spent 7 days there with my mom throwing fits and demanding to talk to my doctors, my nurses and anyone with which she could play the concerned and worried victim mother.

I get out of the hospital to go into the storm and spend 3 days with my mom. I prepared myself. I was armed with God. The last day of my stay we went to the Cancer clinic together. My MNPD mother was in so much pain having the bone biopsy done. She had to lay flat on her back on an ice pack for 40 minutes to allow the puncture in her spine to close up. She was tossing around unable to stay still. I climbed on the stretcher and place my one leg over hers and cradled her head in my arms and stroked her hair to help her with her pain. We both fell asleep. Being with my mom IS exhausting. The nurse came and woke us up 40 minutes later. She said it was the sweetest thing she saw and that we must love each other very much. My mom said, “Well, she IS my daughter, of course I love her. With all my heart.” I, in the meantime am thinking “if you only knew”.

That moment. That 40 minutes is one on the most precious 40 minutes I spent with my mother in my 60.5 years of life. That cannot be deleted from my mind. I will treasure that until I greet my maker. Forty minutes that I would not give up for anything.

The next day she in the hospital with a heart attack, pneumonia, and a urinary tract infection. The following day I go to see her with a photo she wanted, and a rosary from my sister. She refused to see me. No reason. Just no. Then the nurse said she didn’t want my gifts. That I could take them home. Not wanted. Me, or gifts. Rejected. Crushed. Like a bug. Nothing.

My mom used to tell me to go kill myself. Then she said if I didn’t that she would. I learned to want to die without her saying the words. I wanted to die. Again. All over again. And again. Insanity.

For some reason my MNPD mother wishes me dead. If I take my own life then it is murder by proxy. She has successfully navigated the walls of my defenses and has convinced me that there is no other way. The pain becomes so great that I can no longer live with it. I don’t want to die, but merely to have the pain cease. Logic is gone from my brain. You cannot discuss anything logically with a sociopath. It will become so twisted that you will never find your way out. The tangled mess of the trail will tighten around your neck until you stop breathing. I felt like dying yesterday but I did not harm myself as has been my practice. I had the thought but no intent as I did when I wrote the following poem in 2013.

Living to Die

Today is the day I live to die
Waiting for Morpheus as I close my eyes
Hoping to shut them for one last time
Peace at last, quietly divine.

But day breaks in and I open my eyes,
Today again I live to die,
The trail of my tears evaporated
Veins on my arms lacerated.

Today  is the day I live to die.
Empty eyes turned to the sky
Arms outstretched above my head
“Take me now for I’m already dead!

My shattered heart beats the lie
Today again I live to die.
There is no tomorrow left in me
Just today when I cease to be.

Today again I live to die
Scream out loud with a primal cry
And tug at the chains that shackle me.
They keep the victory of death from me.

Is my eternal rest nearby?
When every day I live to die?
My blood has dried, my tears are dry
Your aim was true, I’m dead inside.

Today again I live to die,
To look for the light on the other side.
To take this darkness away from me
The shell of who I used to be.

Katie “Vinjette” Kristoffer 2013

I don’t need to die for my mother. Jesus has already been the sacrifice for her and for me. What she wants me to believe is the lies. Only Jesus can save me and he already paid the price. My death will not make my mom happy for she will look for her next victim. Only Jesus can save her and he already paid the price.

Romans 5:8

But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

I have made many mistakes along the way. I get them pointed out quite often, but the end of the stick is not so sharp any longer and doesn’t hurt as much as it once did. The point doesn’t pierce me as it pierced my Lord who was nailed on the cross. He paid the price for all my mistakes. All my sins. Everything. I don’t owe my mother, my children, my spouse, my friends, or anyone; anything. It’s all been paid. In full. I thank my Jesus for his wonderful gift which I accept fully. My mom rejected my gift but I will not reject the gift Jesus offers. I too, hope my mother accepts his gift of amazing love.

1 Timothy 1:12-17

I am grateful to Christ Jesus our Lord, who has strengthened me, because he judged me faithful and appointed me to his service, even though I was formerly a blasphemer, a persecutor, and a man of violence. But I received mercy because I had acted ignorantly in unbelief, and the grace of our Lord overflowed for me with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus.

The saying is sure and worthy of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners - of whom I am the foremost. But for that very reason I received mercy, so that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display the utmost patience, making me an example to those who would come to believe in him for eternal life. To the King of the ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen. -NSRV

We're All Lost

I was talking to my MNPD mother on the phone yesterday. Our relationship has had another bump or mountain in our road. I say “our” because we really are on this road together to find a place of healing and love. My mom received the devastating news last week (I think it was) that she has bone mets. She survived a bout of thyroid cancer in the late 1980’s and the doctor’s believe it has metastasized to her bones. The prognosis is not good. She was put on time release morphine which she takes 4 times a day, and 2 days ago they doubled her dose. She sounds pretty loopy when I talk to her, but much calmer. So now I have this difficult mom, who has been dying with her heart problems, and now definitely is dying with this new glitch. Her time is likely short and it will be painful for her. A real contradiction of feelings for me. Part of me is glad she will have pain like she caused us, but the empathetic person in me can’t bear the thought of her suffering. I cannot bear anyone suffering or being in pain. I have had thought such as “Karma is a bitch”. Yeah, it is, but who am I to talk when God’s word clearly states that all of us have sinned and fallen short of the glory that is Christ Jesus. I am certain that the word “all” includes me. You see, I have sinful, unkind thoughts directed to my mother as I still have unresolved anger.

Perhaps my anger is justified, but what does that mean? By holding on to it, it diminishes me as a person and causes me to feel and sometimes act hateful. I have come to understand my mom a little better and I am sad for her. She holds on to so much bitterness about how things should have been, or as she says “That’s not the way it was supposed to be.” She would say that over and over about anything and everything we talked about. Finally, one day I asked, “Well, how was it supposed to be?” Her answer both surprised me and saddened me. At the age of 79 she was still angry about her first husband and her dreams for their life together. In her words, “We were supposed to be a family. We were supposed to have a house, and celebrate birthdays, and Christmases. We were supposed to have happy memories of vacations together.” My dad and her broke up when I was 10 years old. My mom was 28 years old. So for 50 years she has been angry that things weren’t the way they were supposed to be.

In addition, she is angry at her mom. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? Well, she does have every right to be angry at her. Her mother failed her in many ways, just as she failed me and I failed my children. You live what you know and what you have learned. That is why I am smarter now than when I was 20. She is angry that her mom treated her the way she did and failed her. When I ask why the answer is, “because, that’s not way it was supposed to be”. I felt her deep emotional pain and understood what she was saying, but at the same time it was so sad because she has never been able to move from that pain.

I got a little annoyed at hearing her say repeatedly that she wished things had been different because it wasn’t the way it was supposed to be that I reminded her of what my despised stepfather used to say all the time. I used to say, “I wish you weren’t so mad all the time”, “I wish I was better”, “I wish I was perfect”, “I wish I could make you happy”, and the list goes on. His reply was always “If wishes were horses beggars would ride.” That made me so angry. What did beggars have to do with my wishes to not be beaten or abused.

So, I reminded my mother of this, so I could be as kind as my stepfather had been. I was angry and was feeling as sympathetic as she and he had been in my childhood. She sounded wistful and replied “Yes, he did say that didn’t he? He was so cute.”

Cute? Really? I blurted out “Really? I wish the freaking horse would step on his head and crush it! I hated him and I hated him more when he said that!”

Mom, for the first time in my entire lifetime of knowledge of her was very calm. It must have been due to the morphine coursing through her veins. So very calmly she says, “You will not talk about my husband in that way. You will not disrespect him in my presence. He was a good man who provided for you and gave you kids many things you would not have had. You will respect him.”

I sat in stunned disbelief at what I just heard. My MNPD mother, even with her morphine had shown her true colors again. It wasn’t about me. It was about what she wanted in life. She wanted a provider, she wanted a house, she wanted things. She got them through this person, even if it wasn’t the way it was “supposed to be”.  I again felt beaten and humiliated. My mother had just told me to respect a man that molested me. I was nothing. I was lost. She was lost in the ‘supposed to be’; in her dreams that she never realized. My pain was nothing because hers was greater and she was so lost in it.

I retorted, “He molested me! I have a right to be angry at him! You should be angry at him! He touched your daughter. It should not have happened and I will not speak kindly of him. Not ever. How dare you even ask me to respect him. He was a child molester!”

She said, “I know, because you told me, but you should have told me then.”

So it was my fault. A beaten, abused, intimidated, broken child who was threatened almost daily with death was at fault for not telling she was being sexually abused. I know my mother. At that point in time she would not have believed me. She never did. She would have beaten me until I told her the truth she wanted to hear and then she would have made me apologize to him and hug him and kiss like I meant it. I want to be physically ill. I want to scream at the heavens for my justice. Yet I am not sick, and heaven sometimes feels silent.

We are both so incredibly lost in our pain and our suffering. May God reach out and heal us both.

But even though we all have strayed and lost our way at times, we can live in the knowledge that our sins are forgiven.

Isaiah 53:6 (NIV)
We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to our own way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all.

And he will find all of us who are lost.

Luke 19:10 (ESV)
“For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.